Filth [Nihilists Masquerade RP]
Mar 19, 2019 3:01:30 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by The Nihilists on Mar 19, 2019 3:01:30 GMT -5
~The XHF Network feed cuts to static and fades to black. A familiar scene unfolds as the fade in is muted in shadows. The scene is a serene one as it is a calm day in Detroit. The XHF Tag Team Champions have been taking some time in the city where Gebin lived to prepare themselves. After the attack ruining their first title defense it was obvious the Filth wanted to be taken seriously. Not that the Nihilists ever did anything without being serious. Still …~
~The Nihilists walk onto the camera from behind it as it moved throughout a street in the center of the city. They turn to face the camera as everyone stops moving. A stiff wind blows and the light jackets the men wear over their jeans and black t-shirts sway with it as it swirls.~
~We fade in to a scene from earlier in the week. The scene is set in sepia tone to set the mood. We are walking in a run-down building. There is a thickness to the air. Dust seems to coat every surface. It floats in the air in every beam of light streaming through the windows. A hand reaches into frame and with a single finger, runs along a banister and comes up shaking off the dust in disgust. Into the frame wearing street clothes and his blue mask is Esmur. He looks around and we see his eyes behind the mask wrinkle in disgust. He moves into the foyer and past the steps. There are two people asleep beneath the stairs to the upper levels under frayed fabric acting as blankets. There are used needles scattered around them. Esmur shakes his head and steps into the kitchen. It is a pig sty. The skink is overflowing with dishes that have clearly been here for a long time with all the mold and insects around them.~
~Esmur cranes his head to the side. In the next room over is clearly a fight over someone’s latest score.~
~Esmur braces himself as he is too far from the entrance to get out before the other door swings open. It comes off the hinges, clearly it was not seated properly to begin with as the woman who barges in is skin and bones, frail, sickly, and pale. She barges in and nearly runs right into Esmur. She stops and jumps from his presence. She steps back a few steps mouthing words as no sound comes out and her left hand raises to point at him. He raises his arms in innocence and her expression changes. She approaches out of curiosity and touches his mask. He recoils a bit. The smell is something to behold. You can see dirt falling from her skin as she moves and you can almost visualize the stink lines off of her.~
~She pulls a Swiss Army Knife. Esmur sighs. He does not intend to fight. She swings and he simply handsprings onto the table. He kicks some very old … gravy? He kicks something rotten into her face and she moves to wipe it away. He leaps down and moves past her. He shuts the door behind him and locks it. He turns to see the man she was speaking with on the couch … in the couch … enveloped in interior cushioning. He is clearly in no state to get up. Whatever he took has him docile and barely lucid. He is also wasting away and his clothes are torn so much they resemble the house elf attire from the Harry Potter series.~
~He stands up and heads for the back stairwell. The man looks up at him still too high to move. He has tears in his eyes.~
~He walks up the stairs as he shakes his head. Were he a weaker man he would have used that interaction to gain something selfish. But this is no sitcom on television. Esmur is not one to mess with people’s lives and pretend to be something he isn’t. He is no savior … because there is no such thing. There is only misguided loyalties to false prophets. To think that someone would willingly enslave a man. It is disgusting, it is vile. It is against the wishes of the void. To torment a man and push him to a point where he is so happy to be alive he treats you like you saved him when all you did was shove him over the edge then catch him on a pillow at the bottom. It is one thing to get a man to a point where he no longer fears death, he doesn’t see it as some horrific fate that must be avoided, he sees it for the beauty it brings … it’s another to bring him to the point of death and get him to accept it then pull it back and instill that fear once again. It is barbaric. Esmur approaches the top of the steps being sure his foot falls are heard to announce his presence. He crests the steps and stands in front of a man who is sitting at a desk with lines of illicit substances, all blurred out of course, waiting for him~
~Esmur walks past him towards the front stairwell to get out of this ramshackle little slice of agony. The man fumes and lunges at Esmur. But Esmur is in top condition and not currently on smack. He easily turns the man’s momentum on him and flips him sending him back first through a coffee table. He then snaps on a kimura lock. The man cries in agony and screams uncle. Esmur releases him and stands straight. He straightens his outfit and walks down the stairs to the door. He turns to the camera as he stands with his back to the door.~
~He opens the door and steps backwards out it then slams it shut.~
~The scene cuts forward to a scene from earlier today. The two Nihilists are standing in front of a Church. To the right side of the main entrance is a small graveyard. Inside the Church is a funeral service. The Nihilists stroll to the right and into the graveyard for the second time this month.~
~The men walk around the headstones paying respects as they go. Suddenly the doors of the church are thrown wide and a casket is led out by the pallbearers. The Nihilists slowly make their way through the graveyard and out to the fence. They step through and close the gate and observe from outside as the funeral procession goes to a grave that is open and ready. The casket is set up over the hole and everyone settles down on towels on the lawn as the priest sets up at a podium next to an easel with an image of the deceased on it. We cannot hear the words only that he is speaking as the camera pans back to the Nihilists leaning on the fence watching.~
~The funeral procession is now watching the casket be lowered into the Earth. Entombed in the soil and enrobed in the darkness that comes from being beneath the level light can touch, and a perfect metaphor for the darkness that the person in the casket has joined with in the everlasting eternity.~
~The scene is sepia toned again. The camera sits on the outskirts of a circle of people. We appear to be in the middle of some kind of therapy session as the voices are muffled and discussing. As they discuss we see a flash of black and the camera shifts. There beside it in the entrance to the room leaning against the door frame is Gebin. His eyes are hidden by his mask but his mouth is visible and shows a downturned expression.~
~The camera zooms in on the circle and we can hear the voices clearer now. A woman in a doctor’s outfit with a clipboard sits at the far seat in the circle and is leading the discussion.~
~The camera zooms out as Gebin turns and walks down the hallway. He looks up at a sign informing all visitors that where we are is a mental hospital. The circle was a group therapy session intended to help patients talk through their issues and bring to light any needs. Gebin continues to walk. He begins to speak to the camera tilting his head toward it to get his message across.~
”Diagnosable diseases. Treatable. People getting help. This is the benefit of living in a society that values the well being of its people. These people have issues that make their minds unreliable. They cannot separate reality from fiction, they cannot control their attitudes and personalities, they cannot focus or think straight. Mental illness is no laughing matter and seeking help is imperative if you are to control it, live with it. I cannot stress enough how the wrong crowd can exacerbate a situation. For example, a youth pastor who drove drunk but still has the full support of the church. My brother may never walk again. His life is in shambles and he keeps smiling. He refuses to accept help and refuses to believe that he can be better. That kind of toxic relationship is harder to define. Is it a mental illness to continue to ignore reality and to chase phantoms and specters? I don’t know myself but it certainly helps lend me a little clarity. Knucks and Erik Black … you play God you’re your friend Salem. He is dangerously unwell, a threat to himself and everyone around him. You are helping keep him insane. Frankly that is a level of malice I cannot fathom. You openly acknowledge using him. You feel he is a better weapon for your success when he is off his rocker. Gross. Pathetic.”
”MISTER MISTER HELP I’M SCARED!”[/div]
~A small child of maybe six years old runs up to Gebin and hugs on his leg. Tears begin to soak into the jeans of the nihilist. Gebin kneels down and holds the boy’s shoulders.~
~They head off. The boy leads him to a room where they enter and the boy jumps on his bed and curls under the covers. A man sits in the chair across the room reading the newspaper. He must be the boy’s father. The father looks gruff and angry.~
~He leaves the room and beelines it towards the exit.~
~He exits the building and the door closes behind him.~
~We fade back in to our original scene. The wind is still blowing the jackets around. The two men now begin to move. They are headed to the airport to head to the Masquerade. No stops along the way. The camera follows as they head into the parking lot and walk across it towards the terminals.~
~The two men reach the terminal. Esmur holds the door open and Gebin walks in. Esmur turns back to the camera one final time.~
~He enters the airport and the door closes as we fade to black and then cut to static. The network feed then resumes as usual.~
“They say to truly know someone … you must walk a mile in their shoes. However repulsive, vile, repugnant, disgusting, and filthy those shoes might be. They don’t know us. But then we can never really know them …”
“No … we refuse to go the places they go. The XHF may not be family friendly … and neither is our message ... most days … but the filth they let on camera in the RSW is not something you will ever catch us involved in. Wretched hive of scum and villainy if you ask me.”
“The point being, how do you learn about your foes and understand them, give them the challenge they deserve and still come out on top … if you cannot degrade yourself? Contentwise we are no saints, the XHF censors and especially our home in AWF do not particularly enjoy our messages of anti-religion, our tendency to make everyone think about their own mortality, et cetera … but you can watch back any of our promos and find that we do not curse … a rarity in XHF and especially from the filth.”
“And we would not risk our jobs in AWF by showing any of the grotesque exploits RSW allows their … “talent” … to show on a regular basis. But then … we have always been the wordy types … so why not try a different tactic in the face of such extremely unique foes?”
“No … we refuse to go the places they go. The XHF may not be family friendly … and neither is our message ... most days … but the filth they let on camera in the RSW is not something you will ever catch us involved in. Wretched hive of scum and villainy if you ask me.”
“The point being, how do you learn about your foes and understand them, give them the challenge they deserve and still come out on top … if you cannot degrade yourself? Contentwise we are no saints, the XHF censors and especially our home in AWF do not particularly enjoy our messages of anti-religion, our tendency to make everyone think about their own mortality, et cetera … but you can watch back any of our promos and find that we do not curse … a rarity in XHF and especially from the filth.”
“And we would not risk our jobs in AWF by showing any of the grotesque exploits RSW allows their … “talent” … to show on a regular basis. But then … we have always been the wordy types … so why not try a different tactic in the face of such extremely unique foes?”
~The Nihilists walk onto the camera from behind it as it moved throughout a street in the center of the city. They turn to face the camera as everyone stops moving. A stiff wind blows and the light jackets the men wear over their jeans and black t-shirts sway with it as it swirls.~
“We wanted to know what would drive boys to act this way. And that is what they are, boys. From watching some of their promos to hearing what they have to say in them we have learned a good deal about these young bucks. It really is funny how perspective differs. I wonder if they feel that we, with fifteen years in the industry are the old men here? It would be understandable. We are much older than them, but we are in our primes. Owed in no small part to the lack of success we found at their age. You see in the months since both our teams debuted we have been on similar paths. Tearing out a swath of destruction and victories throughout. Yes there was the solitary hiccup on our part but that is where the experience comes in. To a young upstart team who has never faced defeat or hardship … an unexpected loss can certainly derail your thought processes. But to an experienced hand, one that has tasted defeat so often … a single loss in a sea of victory is nothing. Stuff happens. You learn to roll with it and learn from it. And they do say you learn more from defeat than success.”
“But then we realized … it is our outlooks that are where the main differences lie. They look at us and see a pair of men wearing masks. Previous opponents have tried to define us by our masks. Luchadors! They must be luchadors! Well I certainly am no stranger to the high flying arts but the masks are of little meaning to us. Surely they must be the UGLIEST of men! Well we do not judge, our looks have never won us any points but they certainly never cost us any. In fact they seemed to just get us lost in the crowd and lacked recognition. Truthfully our looks have little meaning to us. The masks just make us recognizable so when we come on your screens you know to listen and there is no backstory needed when we begin telling everyone of the glorious darkness. The same thing these belts represent. ~he taps his belt which is around his waist, over the clothes but under the jacket~ Our words and actions are what you should use to define us. Judge us by our size do you? By our masks? Then you will fall like all the others who fail to understand. But you …”
“Your actions certainly also define you. And a lot can be learned from them. But what about who you are? Why do you act the way you do?”
“But then we realized … it is our outlooks that are where the main differences lie. They look at us and see a pair of men wearing masks. Previous opponents have tried to define us by our masks. Luchadors! They must be luchadors! Well I certainly am no stranger to the high flying arts but the masks are of little meaning to us. Surely they must be the UGLIEST of men! Well we do not judge, our looks have never won us any points but they certainly never cost us any. In fact they seemed to just get us lost in the crowd and lacked recognition. Truthfully our looks have little meaning to us. The masks just make us recognizable so when we come on your screens you know to listen and there is no backstory needed when we begin telling everyone of the glorious darkness. The same thing these belts represent. ~he taps his belt which is around his waist, over the clothes but under the jacket~ Our words and actions are what you should use to define us. Judge us by our size do you? By our masks? Then you will fall like all the others who fail to understand. But you …”
“Your actions certainly also define you. And a lot can be learned from them. But what about who you are? Why do you act the way you do?”
~We fade in to a scene from earlier in the week. The scene is set in sepia tone to set the mood. We are walking in a run-down building. There is a thickness to the air. Dust seems to coat every surface. It floats in the air in every beam of light streaming through the windows. A hand reaches into frame and with a single finger, runs along a banister and comes up shaking off the dust in disgust. Into the frame wearing street clothes and his blue mask is Esmur. He looks around and we see his eyes behind the mask wrinkle in disgust. He moves into the foyer and past the steps. There are two people asleep beneath the stairs to the upper levels under frayed fabric acting as blankets. There are used needles scattered around them. Esmur shakes his head and steps into the kitchen. It is a pig sty. The skink is overflowing with dishes that have clearly been here for a long time with all the mold and insects around them.~
“F***ING IDIOT! (Assume beeps here) How could you do that!? I worked all week to get that hit.”
”Screw you b**ch. I needed it more than you. You can go out and get some more. I deserve this!”
”Screw you b**ch. I needed it more than you. You can go out and get some more. I deserve this!”
~Esmur cranes his head to the side. In the next room over is clearly a fight over someone’s latest score.~
”Oh you son of a … you’ll never get any from me again!”
”Cry me a river, not get the hell out. I wanna enjoy this in peace!”
”Cry me a river, not get the hell out. I wanna enjoy this in peace!”
~Esmur braces himself as he is too far from the entrance to get out before the other door swings open. It comes off the hinges, clearly it was not seated properly to begin with as the woman who barges in is skin and bones, frail, sickly, and pale. She barges in and nearly runs right into Esmur. She stops and jumps from his presence. She steps back a few steps mouthing words as no sound comes out and her left hand raises to point at him. He raises his arms in innocence and her expression changes. She approaches out of curiosity and touches his mask. He recoils a bit. The smell is something to behold. You can see dirt falling from her skin as she moves and you can almost visualize the stink lines off of her.~
”I’m going to have to ask you to politely step away from me.”
”… What … are you some kind of gimp?”
”Pfffft, what? I … excuse me … ~he gathers himself and straightens his coat~ I am sorry you must have me confused …”
”No that mask you must be a gimp. Who sent you? Who called for you? Clothes that nice, must work for someone who is really into the sh**. Just look at that! You wear that in public? Nah hon I know what you are here for. Before you head upstairs to whoever is playing this game with you … you should play with me.”
”Miss, I am not here for games. I am not who you seem to think I am. Clearly whatever you are on is addling your mind and ruining your senses. I am a respectable professional here to …”
”Dress in bondage, get whipped, and help some motherf***er get his rocks off. Yeah I know the f**king story.”
”I get the distinct impression that you do not. And for the love of … will you stop cursing, do you know how much we’re going to have to pay to edit this? We can’t all be unprofessional like Jeffrey Viper. Some of us have standards.”
”Standards? Pah-lease! I just want you to pay me for my services so I can get back to … edit? Wait what? Is that a motherf**king camera? Dayum man you got some odd kinks. IS the mask for foreplay or during?”
”This is getting me nowhere fast. I am not a mother loving gimp!”
”You a pimp? Some kind of criminal? Why else would you hide your face? And with that silly thing. I mean it’s basically a neon sign yelling, ‘I AM A GIMP!’ buddy.”
”Ok this conversation is over. I have research to accomplish and who knows, my foes may actually be here judging by their past exploits. … There’s no little people upstairs is there?”
”Ok that is one unique kink list you got there. But my offer still stands. You wanna get satisfied and help a lady out or not?”
”My dear, you require a different kind of help than I am qualified to offer. I hope you find it. And who knows, maybe one day you will embrace eternity.”
”Oh hell no, this is not going down like this. Some cult a** bullsh**.”
”… What … are you some kind of gimp?”
”Pfffft, what? I … excuse me … ~he gathers himself and straightens his coat~ I am sorry you must have me confused …”
”No that mask you must be a gimp. Who sent you? Who called for you? Clothes that nice, must work for someone who is really into the sh**. Just look at that! You wear that in public? Nah hon I know what you are here for. Before you head upstairs to whoever is playing this game with you … you should play with me.”
”Miss, I am not here for games. I am not who you seem to think I am. Clearly whatever you are on is addling your mind and ruining your senses. I am a respectable professional here to …”
”Dress in bondage, get whipped, and help some motherf***er get his rocks off. Yeah I know the f**king story.”
”I get the distinct impression that you do not. And for the love of … will you stop cursing, do you know how much we’re going to have to pay to edit this? We can’t all be unprofessional like Jeffrey Viper. Some of us have standards.”
”Standards? Pah-lease! I just want you to pay me for my services so I can get back to … edit? Wait what? Is that a motherf**king camera? Dayum man you got some odd kinks. IS the mask for foreplay or during?”
”This is getting me nowhere fast. I am not a mother loving gimp!”
”You a pimp? Some kind of criminal? Why else would you hide your face? And with that silly thing. I mean it’s basically a neon sign yelling, ‘I AM A GIMP!’ buddy.”
”Ok this conversation is over. I have research to accomplish and who knows, my foes may actually be here judging by their past exploits. … There’s no little people upstairs is there?”
”Ok that is one unique kink list you got there. But my offer still stands. You wanna get satisfied and help a lady out or not?”
”My dear, you require a different kind of help than I am qualified to offer. I hope you find it. And who knows, maybe one day you will embrace eternity.”
”Oh hell no, this is not going down like this. Some cult a** bullsh**.”
~She pulls a Swiss Army Knife. Esmur sighs. He does not intend to fight. She swings and he simply handsprings onto the table. He kicks some very old … gravy? He kicks something rotten into her face and she moves to wipe it away. He leaps down and moves past her. He shuts the door behind him and locks it. He turns to see the man she was speaking with on the couch … in the couch … enveloped in interior cushioning. He is clearly in no state to get up. Whatever he took has him docile and barely lucid. He is also wasting away and his clothes are torn so much they resemble the house elf attire from the Harry Potter series.~
”Hey bro, you … you got the pizza?”
”No. I am not the pizza delivery man. But I suppose I can speak to you.”
”Ah sh**. Am I dying? Did that b**ch poison me? Knew it was too good to be true. Nobody would give her the good stuff for her services. You see that whore? You SMELL that whore? Well you seem awfully nice Old Scratch so I s’pose to buy me some time I’ll chat.”
”I am not … ~he thinks better of this. Cunning is the better part of valor.~ … decided whether you need to accompany me yet. Entertain my musings and we’ll cross that bridge when we’ve finished.”
”Sounds fair.”
”What brought you to this place?”
”Pfft, silly question man. Free living space, state can’t do anything to get rid of this many people. Contacts know about it, easy to find what I need.”
”You misunderstand. I mean what drove you to this place. What makes you want to be here?”
”It numbs the pain. Figure you think me a bad man. But I was somebody once upon a time bro. I had a great gig going. Was junior executive. Used to get to go to all the hottest meetups. Made a name for myself. Engaged in the illicit to keep myself in their good graces. Never had an issue with controlling it. Life was good. Then the business collapsed. 2008 was rough man. Lost my house, lost my girl, lost my car. Nobody around this hellhole was hiring. This was all I knew that could keep some part of my old life alive. Seemed better to die doing what I knew than face that unknown and harsh world with less than nothing.”
”So you fear … irrelevance? You are afraid of being unknown. You cannot handle the loss and you self-medicate, self-harm.”
”Don’t we all? Don’t you? No I guess not. Human concerns are beneath you. I don’t wanna die knowing my life meant nothing. I did nothing to be remembered. Ain’t no parade for me. But here? This is living, I am alive. I feel fantastic. I feel like my existence has meaning.”
”What meaning have you found? All you are doing is masking your pain and hiding from your potential. Do you not see the irony? Your fear is driving you to madness and misery. And you sit here on a broken couch in a broken house with a broken body, broken spirit and broken soul. What meaning can you find here?”
”I … I don’t know I just belong. What good is life without meaning? Why would I want to live in a world where I get punished for no reason and lose everything?”
”Why does there have to be meaning? There is something freeing in knowing that nothing matters. All joy is fleeting, all sorrow is fleeting. You do something to make someone feel good you’ve eased up the pain of their life for a moment. You’ve made a difference. You’ve changed their outlook if even for a minute. And you both gain from it. You screw up? It’s a moment in time, it’s over. It doesn’t mean you are bad. There is no punishment coming, no reward. It’s just living in the moment. In the end we all end up in that eternal darkness as one unified force again. So why infect it with misery and illicit material? You are punishing your body and mind now hoping things will come to you in some future that is never promised to you. You need to liberate your thinking. Your desire for everything to matter, to mean something, for logic and fairness in how the world works is only holding you back and making you miserable. Once you have embraced the darkness … you are free.”
”SO if there is no reward, then what good is it doing anything worthwhile huh Mister Philosopher?”
”Because everything comes back in kind. If you make life hard for others, they will make life hard for you. By needing everything to make sense or fit in with some narrow guidelines you become susceptible to control, manipulation. By playing the right cards, others can toy with you and take your happiness. If you care what others think you might fail to ask for help when you desperately need it for fear of looking weak. Like now. Do you really wish to die here? Would a benevolent force allow that? As you said, you did nothing to deserve this place. It was comforting because it was familiar. If you were to get help you could help others get the most out of this life and in turn get more from yours. You would give “meaning” to those who wish to help. And in the end you would be free of the fear of the unknown and the knowledge that we are all the same being waiting to reunite in the darkness when the time is right will stop you from fighting it and disrupting the serene eternity.”
”No. I am not the pizza delivery man. But I suppose I can speak to you.”
”Ah sh**. Am I dying? Did that b**ch poison me? Knew it was too good to be true. Nobody would give her the good stuff for her services. You see that whore? You SMELL that whore? Well you seem awfully nice Old Scratch so I s’pose to buy me some time I’ll chat.”
”I am not … ~he thinks better of this. Cunning is the better part of valor.~ … decided whether you need to accompany me yet. Entertain my musings and we’ll cross that bridge when we’ve finished.”
”Sounds fair.”
”What brought you to this place?”
”Pfft, silly question man. Free living space, state can’t do anything to get rid of this many people. Contacts know about it, easy to find what I need.”
”You misunderstand. I mean what drove you to this place. What makes you want to be here?”
”It numbs the pain. Figure you think me a bad man. But I was somebody once upon a time bro. I had a great gig going. Was junior executive. Used to get to go to all the hottest meetups. Made a name for myself. Engaged in the illicit to keep myself in their good graces. Never had an issue with controlling it. Life was good. Then the business collapsed. 2008 was rough man. Lost my house, lost my girl, lost my car. Nobody around this hellhole was hiring. This was all I knew that could keep some part of my old life alive. Seemed better to die doing what I knew than face that unknown and harsh world with less than nothing.”
”So you fear … irrelevance? You are afraid of being unknown. You cannot handle the loss and you self-medicate, self-harm.”
”Don’t we all? Don’t you? No I guess not. Human concerns are beneath you. I don’t wanna die knowing my life meant nothing. I did nothing to be remembered. Ain’t no parade for me. But here? This is living, I am alive. I feel fantastic. I feel like my existence has meaning.”
”What meaning have you found? All you are doing is masking your pain and hiding from your potential. Do you not see the irony? Your fear is driving you to madness and misery. And you sit here on a broken couch in a broken house with a broken body, broken spirit and broken soul. What meaning can you find here?”
”I … I don’t know I just belong. What good is life without meaning? Why would I want to live in a world where I get punished for no reason and lose everything?”
”Why does there have to be meaning? There is something freeing in knowing that nothing matters. All joy is fleeting, all sorrow is fleeting. You do something to make someone feel good you’ve eased up the pain of their life for a moment. You’ve made a difference. You’ve changed their outlook if even for a minute. And you both gain from it. You screw up? It’s a moment in time, it’s over. It doesn’t mean you are bad. There is no punishment coming, no reward. It’s just living in the moment. In the end we all end up in that eternal darkness as one unified force again. So why infect it with misery and illicit material? You are punishing your body and mind now hoping things will come to you in some future that is never promised to you. You need to liberate your thinking. Your desire for everything to matter, to mean something, for logic and fairness in how the world works is only holding you back and making you miserable. Once you have embraced the darkness … you are free.”
”SO if there is no reward, then what good is it doing anything worthwhile huh Mister Philosopher?”
”Because everything comes back in kind. If you make life hard for others, they will make life hard for you. By needing everything to make sense or fit in with some narrow guidelines you become susceptible to control, manipulation. By playing the right cards, others can toy with you and take your happiness. If you care what others think you might fail to ask for help when you desperately need it for fear of looking weak. Like now. Do you really wish to die here? Would a benevolent force allow that? As you said, you did nothing to deserve this place. It was comforting because it was familiar. If you were to get help you could help others get the most out of this life and in turn get more from yours. You would give “meaning” to those who wish to help. And in the end you would be free of the fear of the unknown and the knowledge that we are all the same being waiting to reunite in the darkness when the time is right will stop you from fighting it and disrupting the serene eternity.”
~He stands up and heads for the back stairwell. The man looks up at him still too high to move. He has tears in his eyes.~
”Am … Am I going now? … Are you letting me stay? You’ve saved me!”
”No my friend, none of us can really save each other. We can only save ourselves. Look into the abyss, stare into the void, and feel no fear. Be comforted. Be accepting and embracing. Live.”
”No my friend, none of us can really save each other. We can only save ourselves. Look into the abyss, stare into the void, and feel no fear. Be comforted. Be accepting and embracing. Live.”
~He walks up the stairs as he shakes his head. Were he a weaker man he would have used that interaction to gain something selfish. But this is no sitcom on television. Esmur is not one to mess with people’s lives and pretend to be something he isn’t. He is no savior … because there is no such thing. There is only misguided loyalties to false prophets. To think that someone would willingly enslave a man. It is disgusting, it is vile. It is against the wishes of the void. To torment a man and push him to a point where he is so happy to be alive he treats you like you saved him when all you did was shove him over the edge then catch him on a pillow at the bottom. It is one thing to get a man to a point where he no longer fears death, he doesn’t see it as some horrific fate that must be avoided, he sees it for the beauty it brings … it’s another to bring him to the point of death and get him to accept it then pull it back and instill that fear once again. It is barbaric. Esmur approaches the top of the steps being sure his foot falls are heard to announce his presence. He crests the steps and stands in front of a man who is sitting at a desk with lines of illicit substances, all blurred out of course, waiting for him~
”Hold it hot shot, you ain’t Jim. What’s going on?”
”You can stow the misguided attitude. I am here to talk and learn about this condition, this addiction that seems to infest the beings of the people here. I need to know what drives people to this state to better get in the heads of my opponents. They are a truly irredeemable bunch this Awoken faction. They revel in their filth and bad reputation. They take pleasure in being the worst type of people. And they are addicts. Addicts to sex, addicts to glory, addicts to money, addicts to drugs, and addicts to fame.”
”Everyone’s got a vice. Everyone’s addicted to something Mister Hypocrite. Tell me all about the bondage mask Gimpy McGee.”
”I … really? It is a wrestling mask. It is for the benefit of the camera following me. This mask is how the viewers know me. To walk in here without it would just confuse everyone. You run this building. You could easily stop this whole charade and get these people help. And yet you let it devolve into a hive of insects and vermin. And you let the people within it become infested and become an infestation. Why? Why do you do this?”
”Why does anyone do anything Einstein. I get something I want out of it. I keep these people safe from the fuzz, give them a roof over their head and help … push them … to get the stuff they clearly want. And I get some money, some substances, and some loyalty out of it. See life is fragile, they want to keep me safe so they can keep getting their fix. I am a well-protected and loved man. SO you tell me … why do you do what you do masked man?”
”You’ve become addicted yourself. Addicted to the feeling of control. You ruin their lives because it makes you feel like a bigger person than you are. You are trying to play God and manipulate them to serve your interests and vices. It really is pitiful. You keep them unable to reach their potentials, unable to live their lives. … Not unlike Erik Black … a puppet master out to gain what he can at the expense of others with no concern for how it will break them. It is one thing to stop people fearing death and the unknown. It brings them peace and tranquility and improves the world itself. It is quite another to push the to a state where they don’t realize what fear is. You rush them recklessly headfirst into the void before the void is ready to receive them. You are a purveyor of the foulest corruptions. And you are a victim of those very same corruptions. You peddle them your … I suppose someone like you or the Filth Factory would call them sins … and then you over indulge in the fruits of that labor.”
”Don’t you talk down to me like some high and mighty perfect being. I am providing a service to these people and I expect recompense for my time, efforts, and influence!”
”No you are a fountain of corruption. Poisoning the well. You get these people to slip further into this self harm cycle. You create these poor fools and monsters like Knucks and Salem. Still you have provided me a useful window into their minds. I’d thank you but you aren’t worth it.”
”You can stow the misguided attitude. I am here to talk and learn about this condition, this addiction that seems to infest the beings of the people here. I need to know what drives people to this state to better get in the heads of my opponents. They are a truly irredeemable bunch this Awoken faction. They revel in their filth and bad reputation. They take pleasure in being the worst type of people. And they are addicts. Addicts to sex, addicts to glory, addicts to money, addicts to drugs, and addicts to fame.”
”Everyone’s got a vice. Everyone’s addicted to something Mister Hypocrite. Tell me all about the bondage mask Gimpy McGee.”
”I … really? It is a wrestling mask. It is for the benefit of the camera following me. This mask is how the viewers know me. To walk in here without it would just confuse everyone. You run this building. You could easily stop this whole charade and get these people help. And yet you let it devolve into a hive of insects and vermin. And you let the people within it become infested and become an infestation. Why? Why do you do this?”
”Why does anyone do anything Einstein. I get something I want out of it. I keep these people safe from the fuzz, give them a roof over their head and help … push them … to get the stuff they clearly want. And I get some money, some substances, and some loyalty out of it. See life is fragile, they want to keep me safe so they can keep getting their fix. I am a well-protected and loved man. SO you tell me … why do you do what you do masked man?”
”You’ve become addicted yourself. Addicted to the feeling of control. You ruin their lives because it makes you feel like a bigger person than you are. You are trying to play God and manipulate them to serve your interests and vices. It really is pitiful. You keep them unable to reach their potentials, unable to live their lives. … Not unlike Erik Black … a puppet master out to gain what he can at the expense of others with no concern for how it will break them. It is one thing to stop people fearing death and the unknown. It brings them peace and tranquility and improves the world itself. It is quite another to push the to a state where they don’t realize what fear is. You rush them recklessly headfirst into the void before the void is ready to receive them. You are a purveyor of the foulest corruptions. And you are a victim of those very same corruptions. You peddle them your … I suppose someone like you or the Filth Factory would call them sins … and then you over indulge in the fruits of that labor.”
”Don’t you talk down to me like some high and mighty perfect being. I am providing a service to these people and I expect recompense for my time, efforts, and influence!”
”No you are a fountain of corruption. Poisoning the well. You get these people to slip further into this self harm cycle. You create these poor fools and monsters like Knucks and Salem. Still you have provided me a useful window into their minds. I’d thank you but you aren’t worth it.”
~Esmur walks past him towards the front stairwell to get out of this ramshackle little slice of agony. The man fumes and lunges at Esmur. But Esmur is in top condition and not currently on smack. He easily turns the man’s momentum on him and flips him sending him back first through a coffee table. He then snaps on a kimura lock. The man cries in agony and screams uncle. Esmur releases him and stands straight. He straightens his outfit and walks down the stairs to the door. He turns to the camera as he stands with his back to the door.~
”Addiction. You two are fueled by it. Everything about you is like a junkie waiting for his next score. I pity you. The talent you two possess, the teamwork with which you fight. It would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t so pathetic. You are addicted to substances which sap your ability to think straight and strategize. You have no focus and no off switch. You slip steadily into your bad habits. What happens the day you cannot stop them long enough to have a match? Catastrophe. That is what awaits you at the Masquerade. You are so addicted to the past glory you don’t even bother to see what you should be feeling. Duke and Chaos were not the best XHF had to offer. They were never near the titles. They weren’t worthy. They weren’t on the level of the GUNS. They weren’t on the level of the Icons. And nobody is on the level of the Nihilists. We are free of addiction. There is no physical need or mental block requiring us to seek out drugs, sex, or anything like that. Our minds are clear and focused. You may be the top team in Jobber City … but we are the top team in the world. And your addictions will be your undoing. Your addictions don’t make you weak … your blind reliance on them to sort you out before a show does however. Instead of seeking help, each one of the three of you fools digs the others deeper into the muck. There will be no glory for you. There is only darkness.”
~He opens the door and steps backwards out it then slams it shut.~
~The scene cuts forward to a scene from earlier today. The two Nihilists are standing in front of a Church. To the right side of the main entrance is a small graveyard. Inside the Church is a funeral service. The Nihilists stroll to the right and into the graveyard for the second time this month.~
”It is funny Gebin. We once again find this theme of loss in our opponents. It cannot be coincidence. These two boys are fueled by the pain of loss. It is interesting when you think about it. Seth Dillinger lost a close friend, Raiden lost a cousin … but these two. The well runs deep on the pain and loss here.”
”Indeed. Salem lost his mind. Schizophrenic but off his meds. If we weren’t so talented I’d be fearful for what he might do in the ring if he were to have a psychotic episode. And his so called friends keep him unwell and unmedicated because they think it makes him a weapon in the ring. Liability … a word they must not be familiar with. Didn’t he fall in love with a crazy stalker?”
”Also dead. A source of great anguish for the poor boy. It is hard to tell if it broke him or focused him to be honest but he is not right in the head right now. He took it very hard. As a technical style wrestler he is the weak link. His mind is no longer right and he is unhinged. He … violated her corpse and refused to face reality. He couldn’t deal with the loss.”
”He is repulsive. He lost his identity as well. He believes he is the painted face. Quite frankly I think he shouldn’t be anywhere near a ring. But we will be happy to take advantage of his little break to hand you both your first defeat. After all, we are the global tag team champions. We are the best at what we do. And that comes from being at peace with life’s foibles. We seek help when we need it, we make sure to be in our best conditioning. It takes experience to learn proper coping strategies. A reason why we are only now at our most effective and powerful. We worked hard for what we have and to be who we are. You … don’t even know who you are. Neither of you. You are both being used by the people around you. Erik Black uses you as his lackeys and protection. Your women use you and you don’t even see it. How long did it take you to accept Lilith’s death Salem? Too long. For you and for all us watching your escapades.”
”And then there’s Anthony. Knucks. You know, you would think someone who is so affected by the loss of a loved one due to addiction, you’d have a better grasp on your impulses and what they could do to you. But you have no control. You want revenge for your mother’s loss. You want the world to pay. And yet you go out and get drunk and high in nearly every video promo. You cannot control your impulses. You do horrible things to people.”
”The way you treated the women on that boat, your coworkers in RSW, your friends who stay by you and help you … it’s appalling. And yet you want to see your mother again. You have to be good by your own religious standards. You kidnapped, tortured, held, and intended to kill a man for a crime he may have possibly helped commit? You now use him as a servant because it will keep you supposedly on the side of good. But here’s the kicker. There is no afterlife. There is no God. There is no heaven or hell. There is no meaning, there is only action and the darkness. Your mother was surely taken before her time. But the void treats us all as equals and embraces us all the same. You will be reunited again in the abyss some day if that helps you sleep at night.”
”Indeed. Salem lost his mind. Schizophrenic but off his meds. If we weren’t so talented I’d be fearful for what he might do in the ring if he were to have a psychotic episode. And his so called friends keep him unwell and unmedicated because they think it makes him a weapon in the ring. Liability … a word they must not be familiar with. Didn’t he fall in love with a crazy stalker?”
”Also dead. A source of great anguish for the poor boy. It is hard to tell if it broke him or focused him to be honest but he is not right in the head right now. He took it very hard. As a technical style wrestler he is the weak link. His mind is no longer right and he is unhinged. He … violated her corpse and refused to face reality. He couldn’t deal with the loss.”
”He is repulsive. He lost his identity as well. He believes he is the painted face. Quite frankly I think he shouldn’t be anywhere near a ring. But we will be happy to take advantage of his little break to hand you both your first defeat. After all, we are the global tag team champions. We are the best at what we do. And that comes from being at peace with life’s foibles. We seek help when we need it, we make sure to be in our best conditioning. It takes experience to learn proper coping strategies. A reason why we are only now at our most effective and powerful. We worked hard for what we have and to be who we are. You … don’t even know who you are. Neither of you. You are both being used by the people around you. Erik Black uses you as his lackeys and protection. Your women use you and you don’t even see it. How long did it take you to accept Lilith’s death Salem? Too long. For you and for all us watching your escapades.”
”And then there’s Anthony. Knucks. You know, you would think someone who is so affected by the loss of a loved one due to addiction, you’d have a better grasp on your impulses and what they could do to you. But you have no control. You want revenge for your mother’s loss. You want the world to pay. And yet you go out and get drunk and high in nearly every video promo. You cannot control your impulses. You do horrible things to people.”
”The way you treated the women on that boat, your coworkers in RSW, your friends who stay by you and help you … it’s appalling. And yet you want to see your mother again. You have to be good by your own religious standards. You kidnapped, tortured, held, and intended to kill a man for a crime he may have possibly helped commit? You now use him as a servant because it will keep you supposedly on the side of good. But here’s the kicker. There is no afterlife. There is no God. There is no heaven or hell. There is no meaning, there is only action and the darkness. Your mother was surely taken before her time. But the void treats us all as equals and embraces us all the same. You will be reunited again in the abyss some day if that helps you sleep at night.”
~The men walk around the headstones paying respects as they go. Suddenly the doors of the church are thrown wide and a casket is led out by the pallbearers. The Nihilists slowly make their way through the graveyard and out to the fence. They step through and close the gate and observe from outside as the funeral procession goes to a grave that is open and ready. The casket is set up over the hole and everyone settles down on towels on the lawn as the priest sets up at a podium next to an easel with an image of the deceased on it. We cannot hear the words only that he is speaking as the camera pans back to the Nihilists leaning on the fence watching.~
”We all deal with pain in different ways. These people choose to seek comfort from those near and dear to the departed, to soothe each other. They find solace in their friends and family. And in this case they turn to their deity. This is healthy grieving gentlemen. This is how we come together as a unit to overcome the sadness and find joy once again. We celebrate the life of the ones we lose and we move on knowing they are all united in the all-encompassing blackness that will one day envelop us all.”
”Some people may look for meaning or reason behind the tragedy. But this is a fool’s errand. Nothing can bring you back once the darkness has laid claim to you. And to be sad is foolish. This is the ultimate fate to which we are all born and will all suffer inescapably. How much better it is to go in without fear and on our own terms.”
”Then of course, there is the Filth Factory way. Drown your feelings in illicit mind-altering substances, kidnap and torture, have sex with everything that moves … and some things that don’t … and generally be a nuisance without ever confronting those feelings or getting over the loss. Let it fester and percolate. Let that open wound ooze and truly make you dirty. Become an irredeemable monster and make everyone around you nervous, fearful, spiteful, or just all around hate you.”
”Some people may look for meaning or reason behind the tragedy. But this is a fool’s errand. Nothing can bring you back once the darkness has laid claim to you. And to be sad is foolish. This is the ultimate fate to which we are all born and will all suffer inescapably. How much better it is to go in without fear and on our own terms.”
”Then of course, there is the Filth Factory way. Drown your feelings in illicit mind-altering substances, kidnap and torture, have sex with everything that moves … and some things that don’t … and generally be a nuisance without ever confronting those feelings or getting over the loss. Let it fester and percolate. Let that open wound ooze and truly make you dirty. Become an irredeemable monster and make everyone around you nervous, fearful, spiteful, or just all around hate you.”
~The funeral procession is now watching the casket be lowered into the Earth. Entombed in the soil and enrobed in the darkness that comes from being beneath the level light can touch, and a perfect metaphor for the darkness that the person in the casket has joined with in the everlasting eternity.~
”It is quite frankly amazing either of you can function nevermind that you are allowed to be part of a normal society. Your very beings are infected with the scourge of your misdeeds. You are damaged beyond repair and you spread that corruption to those around you. The people you associate with are either horrible or miserable. Poison, Lilith, Erik Black, Cheyenne, Brother Bones. This is a list of gang members not a list of reputable associates for a normal tag team. You wallow in the pain you cannot and will not overcome and you spread that doubt, deceit, and filth to the world you inhabit. It’s no wonder nothing about you is ever clean. But then … you are both sick. And maybe you need a dose of reality to come to terms with that and get the help you need …”
~The scene is sepia toned again. The camera sits on the outskirts of a circle of people. We appear to be in the middle of some kind of therapy session as the voices are muffled and discussing. As they discuss we see a flash of black and the camera shifts. There beside it in the entrance to the room leaning against the door frame is Gebin. His eyes are hidden by his mask but his mouth is visible and shows a downturned expression.~
”Let’s listen in, this could be enlightening. Our foes at the Masquerade share something in common with these folks.”
~The camera zooms in on the circle and we can hear the voices clearer now. A woman in a doctor’s outfit with a clipboard sits at the far seat in the circle and is leading the discussion.~
”Well that was certainly what I call progress. How about you? What has been on your mind today?”
”Well, my mind has been a rush of ideas. I can’t sort through the chaff to think straight miss. I never used to have issues when I was young but as I got older my brain started to short out. Ya know? It’s like some days it just can’t settle on what it wants to think about. I can’t judge what’s important. Everything gets jumbled and sometimes I mistake dreams and daydreams for reality. Some days I just can’t focus. Other days it’s hallucinations.”
”That’s interesting. So your attention is divided?”
”You could say that I guess. Fractured more like. It’s not that I can’t pay attention it’s that I can’t keep things straight in my head. I can’t trust my own memories. My eyes, ears and brain all play tricks on me. It’s incredibly frustrating. I thought I was making progress here but lately it seems to be regressing. I just … lose myself for hours at a time and wake up with no memory of what I was doing. Yesterday I was convinced my daughter was here with me. And it was a dream. I don’t even have kids. Today I thought I was dead. It was frightening … and … comforting.”
”And what do you think might be behind this slipping? You were making progress as you said, how do you feel about that all now?”
”Like you’re a colossal toolbag wasting everyone’s time.”
”That was uncalled for and it is not your turn to speak. Now… go on.”
”Uh yeah, I just feel like things haven’t been improving. I mean I’m certainly better now than when I came in…”
”Well duh, you got to shower and cut that awful hair. How did you get through life being a complete waste of space and energy? Too bad that shower didn’t wash off the ugly or the whiny little sh** out of you.”
”That is not helpful. We are all here to support each other in these trying times and you need to respect the rules of the circle. Now sit down. If you are so eager to speak why don’t you share?”
”Fah you little c**ts would love that wouldn’t you. I’m the most interesting person here and I don’t even understand the purpose of these little circle jerks. None of these whiny pricks is getting truly better. You just get us to talk so you can get paid and feel good about … ~he shudders for a moment and his posture changes~ … all the f***ing spiders. Why do you let them in? You know we are afraid of them. They want us dead. They whisper how they want to kill us every night. You bring them here just to make me uncomfortable. You hate me. Everyone hates me. Every thing hates me. Would you like me to leave? Is that it?”
”I understand. Jerome did you take your medication this morning?”
”Unnatural. Makes me blind. Can’t see the things out to get me. Could be killing me and you wouldn’t know it! Why do you do this? ~The phrase echoes as he shudders~ Why does anyone do anything? You bastards all want entertainment. Am I a clown to you? Parade me out here to listen to little miss fluff and stuff over here talk about how she can’t stop eating? Or this a**ho** who can’t remember his pet’s name and imagines children and love as if anything could love someone so pathetic. Oh how about the dude who always complains of a melted face? Ot the one who goes catatonic and pees herself then wakes up and blames everyone else?”
”That’s not very nice. We help you and you just get mad!”
”Now now he can’t help it. Jerome here is …”
”For the last F***ING time B**CH my name is AXEL! And I’m sick of coming here. I have half a mind to check myself out and let you sickos get on without …~he shudders again and sits down calmly~ … Oh is it time for the meeting already. I’m terribly sorry I’m late everyone. I hope nobody is put off my my tardiness. I’ll share. Hi everyone, my name is Bill and I’m an alcoholic. I lose large chunks of time to blackouts. I don’t … recall … drinking but it must be happening.”
”Well, my mind has been a rush of ideas. I can’t sort through the chaff to think straight miss. I never used to have issues when I was young but as I got older my brain started to short out. Ya know? It’s like some days it just can’t settle on what it wants to think about. I can’t judge what’s important. Everything gets jumbled and sometimes I mistake dreams and daydreams for reality. Some days I just can’t focus. Other days it’s hallucinations.”
”That’s interesting. So your attention is divided?”
”You could say that I guess. Fractured more like. It’s not that I can’t pay attention it’s that I can’t keep things straight in my head. I can’t trust my own memories. My eyes, ears and brain all play tricks on me. It’s incredibly frustrating. I thought I was making progress here but lately it seems to be regressing. I just … lose myself for hours at a time and wake up with no memory of what I was doing. Yesterday I was convinced my daughter was here with me. And it was a dream. I don’t even have kids. Today I thought I was dead. It was frightening … and … comforting.”
”And what do you think might be behind this slipping? You were making progress as you said, how do you feel about that all now?”
”Like you’re a colossal toolbag wasting everyone’s time.”
”That was uncalled for and it is not your turn to speak. Now… go on.”
”Uh yeah, I just feel like things haven’t been improving. I mean I’m certainly better now than when I came in…”
”Well duh, you got to shower and cut that awful hair. How did you get through life being a complete waste of space and energy? Too bad that shower didn’t wash off the ugly or the whiny little sh** out of you.”
”That is not helpful. We are all here to support each other in these trying times and you need to respect the rules of the circle. Now sit down. If you are so eager to speak why don’t you share?”
”Fah you little c**ts would love that wouldn’t you. I’m the most interesting person here and I don’t even understand the purpose of these little circle jerks. None of these whiny pricks is getting truly better. You just get us to talk so you can get paid and feel good about … ~he shudders for a moment and his posture changes~ … all the f***ing spiders. Why do you let them in? You know we are afraid of them. They want us dead. They whisper how they want to kill us every night. You bring them here just to make me uncomfortable. You hate me. Everyone hates me. Every thing hates me. Would you like me to leave? Is that it?”
”I understand. Jerome did you take your medication this morning?”
”Unnatural. Makes me blind. Can’t see the things out to get me. Could be killing me and you wouldn’t know it! Why do you do this? ~The phrase echoes as he shudders~ Why does anyone do anything? You bastards all want entertainment. Am I a clown to you? Parade me out here to listen to little miss fluff and stuff over here talk about how she can’t stop eating? Or this a**ho** who can’t remember his pet’s name and imagines children and love as if anything could love someone so pathetic. Oh how about the dude who always complains of a melted face? Ot the one who goes catatonic and pees herself then wakes up and blames everyone else?”
”That’s not very nice. We help you and you just get mad!”
”Now now he can’t help it. Jerome here is …”
”For the last F***ING time B**CH my name is AXEL! And I’m sick of coming here. I have half a mind to check myself out and let you sickos get on without …~he shudders again and sits down calmly~ … Oh is it time for the meeting already. I’m terribly sorry I’m late everyone. I hope nobody is put off my my tardiness. I’ll share. Hi everyone, my name is Bill and I’m an alcoholic. I lose large chunks of time to blackouts. I don’t … recall … drinking but it must be happening.”
~The camera zooms out as Gebin turns and walks down the hallway. He looks up at a sign informing all visitors that where we are is a mental hospital. The circle was a group therapy session intended to help patients talk through their issues and bring to light any needs. Gebin continues to walk. He begins to speak to the camera tilting his head toward it to get his message across.~
”Diagnosable diseases. Treatable. People getting help. This is the benefit of living in a society that values the well being of its people. These people have issues that make their minds unreliable. They cannot separate reality from fiction, they cannot control their attitudes and personalities, they cannot focus or think straight. Mental illness is no laughing matter and seeking help is imperative if you are to control it, live with it. I cannot stress enough how the wrong crowd can exacerbate a situation. For example, a youth pastor who drove drunk but still has the full support of the church. My brother may never walk again. His life is in shambles and he keeps smiling. He refuses to accept help and refuses to believe that he can be better. That kind of toxic relationship is harder to define. Is it a mental illness to continue to ignore reality and to chase phantoms and specters? I don’t know myself but it certainly helps lend me a little clarity. Knucks and Erik Black … you play God you’re your friend Salem. He is dangerously unwell, a threat to himself and everyone around him. You are helping keep him insane. Frankly that is a level of malice I cannot fathom. You openly acknowledge using him. You feel he is a better weapon for your success when he is off his rocker. Gross. Pathetic.”
”MISTER MISTER HELP I’M SCARED!”[/div]
~A small child of maybe six years old runs up to Gebin and hugs on his leg. Tears begin to soak into the jeans of the nihilist. Gebin kneels down and holds the boy’s shoulders.~
”What’s wrong little one?”
”They want to stab me! They say they need to take a blood test but I’ma scared! I might die! It’s too big, I hate needles.”
”It’s ok. Here come with me back to your room and let’s talk.”
”They want to stab me! They say they need to take a blood test but I’ma scared! I might die! It’s too big, I hate needles.”
”It’s ok. Here come with me back to your room and let’s talk.”
~They head off. The boy leads him to a room where they enter and the boy jumps on his bed and curls under the covers. A man sits in the chair across the room reading the newspaper. He must be the boy’s father. The father looks gruff and angry.~
”And who the hell are you?”
”Just here visiting for research purposes. Your son found me and was scared so I helped him.”
”Bah, kid is afraid of everything. Darkness, Shadows, needles, animals, foods. Kid is just a whiny little punk. Takes after his maternal side of the family. Bunch of cowards they are.”
”Uh huh … and maybe that is why he is here? That sounds like a debilitating condition to be so afraid of everything. An oversized fear response, always flight never fight. Doesn’t that sound like an issue you would want to get help for?”
”No. The court made me bring him here. I call it child abuse giving a kid a needle. It’s unnatural. God don’t make no mistakes. Kid’s afraid because he went against God and listened to all that science mumbo jumbo. Not a lick of it is true. Just needs to pray for a little courage. Nothing wrong with him but his own attitude and not listening to the good book.”
”And why do you say that? You are so quick to assume your God will give you the answer and yet here you are in a building dedicated to healing. Perhaps your God led you here because this is how he intends to heal your son? Did you ever think science and these doctors are the answers to your prayers? Or do you just want a miracle? Put nothing in and get everything out? It’s the same logic my brother uses. He could have been able to walk again. His family would be whole if he wasn’t so stubborn and refusing to accept help and guidance. This level of mental illness is one I cannot comprehend. He may never get to spend time with his son because he refuses treatment and is slipping further and further into this holy schtick. He’s begun to endanger their well-being by being so bull headed. Just like you. What if your son’s fear causes him to ignore a treatment that would save his life one day? He could be living his life to the fullest and you rob him of that because you have a mental block in place that says God is all, forget life.”
”I don’t need you to tell me how to raise my son. He don’t need no treatment. He’s just a pu**y. God will set him straight. And hopefully your trip to hell will suit you well. You need a healthy dose of the fear of God.”
”No I’m sorry I don’t. Fear for your son is bad but fear of God is good? Do you only do good deeds expecting some reward? How short sighted and narrow minded. That attitude is too easy to exploit. Mental illness is no laughing matter. It is foolish to assume you can pray it away and it is just malicious to prevent your family and friends from getting treatment.”
”I just don’t want to be hurt! Mommy died because she was in pain and God didn’t heal her!”
”You can’t rely on God. You need to be strong for yourself. Make your own choices and live because living is what you are here for. There is no preset destiny, purpose, or reason. There is no need to wait for a reward that likely won’t come. The book’s standards are too high anyhow. Do good because it helps make the world better to live in for everyone. And don’t fear the end because in the end that is the great unifier. There is no mental illness, or pain, or sorrow once the darkness takes hold of you. And everyone returns there the same, no matter if they were rich, poor, black, white, male, female, or anything in between.”
”Just here visiting for research purposes. Your son found me and was scared so I helped him.”
”Bah, kid is afraid of everything. Darkness, Shadows, needles, animals, foods. Kid is just a whiny little punk. Takes after his maternal side of the family. Bunch of cowards they are.”
”Uh huh … and maybe that is why he is here? That sounds like a debilitating condition to be so afraid of everything. An oversized fear response, always flight never fight. Doesn’t that sound like an issue you would want to get help for?”
”No. The court made me bring him here. I call it child abuse giving a kid a needle. It’s unnatural. God don’t make no mistakes. Kid’s afraid because he went against God and listened to all that science mumbo jumbo. Not a lick of it is true. Just needs to pray for a little courage. Nothing wrong with him but his own attitude and not listening to the good book.”
”And why do you say that? You are so quick to assume your God will give you the answer and yet here you are in a building dedicated to healing. Perhaps your God led you here because this is how he intends to heal your son? Did you ever think science and these doctors are the answers to your prayers? Or do you just want a miracle? Put nothing in and get everything out? It’s the same logic my brother uses. He could have been able to walk again. His family would be whole if he wasn’t so stubborn and refusing to accept help and guidance. This level of mental illness is one I cannot comprehend. He may never get to spend time with his son because he refuses treatment and is slipping further and further into this holy schtick. He’s begun to endanger their well-being by being so bull headed. Just like you. What if your son’s fear causes him to ignore a treatment that would save his life one day? He could be living his life to the fullest and you rob him of that because you have a mental block in place that says God is all, forget life.”
”I don’t need you to tell me how to raise my son. He don’t need no treatment. He’s just a pu**y. God will set him straight. And hopefully your trip to hell will suit you well. You need a healthy dose of the fear of God.”
”No I’m sorry I don’t. Fear for your son is bad but fear of God is good? Do you only do good deeds expecting some reward? How short sighted and narrow minded. That attitude is too easy to exploit. Mental illness is no laughing matter. It is foolish to assume you can pray it away and it is just malicious to prevent your family and friends from getting treatment.”
”I just don’t want to be hurt! Mommy died because she was in pain and God didn’t heal her!”
”You can’t rely on God. You need to be strong for yourself. Make your own choices and live because living is what you are here for. There is no preset destiny, purpose, or reason. There is no need to wait for a reward that likely won’t come. The book’s standards are too high anyhow. Do good because it helps make the world better to live in for everyone. And don’t fear the end because in the end that is the great unifier. There is no mental illness, or pain, or sorrow once the darkness takes hold of you. And everyone returns there the same, no matter if they were rich, poor, black, white, male, female, or anything in between.”
~He leaves the room and beelines it towards the exit.~
”Both of you are broken Filth Factory. And it is up to us to show you the path. We will help save you the same way we tried to help Seth and Raiden. The same way we pitch our message to everyone. Stop treating each other like the dirt you are named after. Stop using each other. Get yourselves right in the head. You are not the creature you paint your face to be. You both need help. And if it takes you losing to us and being laughed out of the building after all this hype then so be it. We will accept that burden.”
~He exits the building and the door closes behind him.~
~We fade back in to our original scene. The wind is still blowing the jackets around. The two men now begin to move. They are headed to the airport to head to the Masquerade. No stops along the way. The camera follows as they head into the parking lot and walk across it towards the terminals.~
”When it comes right down to it. Your name is fitting. Your presence here exudes filth. You seem to take pride in that fact but it is not something any normal person would be proud of. But then as we saw, you guys are most definitely not normal. You aren’t right in the head. You are dangerous. You are unstable. And you don’t deserve to hold these tag titles. You are too weak. Weak willed, weak of mind, weak of spirit. A strong man knows when he needs help. A strong man doesn’t use his friend and keep his medication from him to make him a weapon. A Strong man doesn’t need to blindly seek glory. And a strong man definitely doesn’t need to go taking things they want as if they are entitled to it. You want to hold these titles you will have to earn them by beating the best darn tag team to ever grace the ring. You will need to put your money where your mouth is and back up the talk.”
”The difference between us and the others you’ve preyed on is that we are not afraid to get dirty. If we have to dig through the filth to spread the message then so be it. It’s never been a problem for us in the past and it won’t now. We will help you, we will be your guides. We will be your medication, your call to action, your emissaries of the emptiness. We will get you over your fear, your pain, your loss. You may ask yourselves … why? Why help us? Why be so magnanimous? Why would you do this?”
”Why does anyone do anything? Because …”
”…We can. And because …”
”… We must.”
”The difference between us and the others you’ve preyed on is that we are not afraid to get dirty. If we have to dig through the filth to spread the message then so be it. It’s never been a problem for us in the past and it won’t now. We will help you, we will be your guides. We will be your medication, your call to action, your emissaries of the emptiness. We will get you over your fear, your pain, your loss. You may ask yourselves … why? Why help us? Why be so magnanimous? Why would you do this?”
”Why does anyone do anything? Because …”
”…We can. And because …”
”… We must.”
~The two men reach the terminal. Esmur holds the door open and Gebin walks in. Esmur turns back to the camera one final time.~
”It’s our desire to clean up the filth. We will bring our titles to RSW, we will bring our masks and belts to the Masquerade. And we will walk back out with them, and your respect. We know you are good. Very much so. But until you get your minds set … until you become better, until you understand the power of the abyss and the message that guides us … you will never stop our message from ringing out loud and clear. You will be just like every other team to stand in our way. You will be bent, broken, and defeated. But hey, if you are as good as you seem to be, it’ll be fun and exciting. And maybe you’ll come back for another shot. But until then? Embrace eternity.”
~He enters the airport and the door closes as we fade to black and then cut to static. The network feed then resumes as usual.~
