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Darkness Falls
He stayed in his room because he was forced to. The four walls of that tiny room had been home for months. This was his choice, because everything beyond that room, was far more entrapping. Those people cared, and loved, and never feared showing it. They were all good people… ALL of them. It was a shame really, because it seemed far too good to believe. No one was happy all of the time, and no one cared that much, right? Or was that just a distorted reality of one man. One man who loved nothing but himself. The marijuana cured the anxiety, the fear of the change that awaited him. If he did leave, he traveled at night, where the darkness was still able to save him. He could indulge in its cloak, and figure out the place he was forced to call home. But there wasn’t one thing that proved his theory for the overall good of the city. There wasn’t any proof. But as his boots scraped along the ground, he continued his voyage to find more about the place he’d quickly become the outcast of. His black hat pulled down, he ventured on in to the night. “The truth will set you free.” Styles chuckled as he worked his way across the deserted main strip. No one ever came out in the night, unless their trash bins had fallen over… that would’ve fucked up the entire scenery of the place. Once in a while he’d find one of the do-gooders up late, watching TV or playing on the computer, other than that it was a ghost town at night. He was still lost in the reality of this place, and lusted for the reasons why he’d been cast to a place where he was so out of turn. Deep down he knew exactly what had happened. This was payment for his lack of delivery. Tail’s soul had been harder to obtain than originally thought. Every night he retuned to the same spot, the same house, the same metaphorical crossroad. A vast stone church sat before him, it’s structure built with strength, which lay exposed to those who believed. It was a sign of purity, and resembled that of the Roman’s; which Styles had spent some time in, centuries ago. He reflected on the power the stone gave off, feeding the god-fearing people of the town their every drop of righteousness. Styles knew better, he knew there wasn’t any sort of God… or else he would’ve shown himself to save a man nights prior. Frank Hart had been his given name, and he had pleaded for the almighty to save him, at least until the he was flying into the air. He hadn’t been killed for a purpose, well actually, maybe he had. Styles could remember the joy he took out of deflating that man’s faith. There was always time for a hunt. Thousands of years had passed, Styles appearance forever changing, but his blood lust remained. The power of the spirit, the justification of the conqueror; He was the judge and jury, merciless within his own right. If there were a God, it would be him; He was the seven deadly sins rolled up in to flesh and blood. His mind raced, as a smile crept along his face, the thought of this strong building crumbling to the asphalt excited him. His blood boiled as he pictured the pastors burning alive within the stone entrapment, screaming for the almighty to spare them. To spare their lives for the faith they had entrusted in a glorified legend. Only Styles had risen from the dead wearing a crown of thorns. He could only picture the church burning for a little longer before it faded from his mind, he thought he could smell the charbroiled skin, but he chuckled at his imagination. Striding away, he flicked his cigarette to the lawn, only wishing it would ignite, sending hell straight to the townspeople. But he knew there would be a time, and a place. There always was. He had killed Julius Caesar, Lincoln, and numerous others throughout time, he was a hell of an adversary to hope. He always played the same role, and did it to absolute perfection. Death, misery, destruction… there were far too many names to describe his work. He was tired of resurrecting the hard-on he had for himself, as he continued back to his small dormitory style room, his run in with the church had stifled his memory to where he could almost recognize the hate he had for it, but he was still confused about where he was. His slate had been wiped clean, memory and all, in order to write his destiny. He hadn’t the slightest clue of what he needed to do, but he was almost positive it would come in bits and pieces. He had originally wanted to head back to what he was forced to call home, kill off the rest of the herbal relaxation, but he caught an urge; and urge that watered his mouth, and caused his entire body to be thrown in to a whirlwind. He wanted to kill tonight, to sacrifice someone to the greater “good.” He couldn’t explain the feeling, besides an ecstatic moment of finally finding out what he did best. He was a killer, plain and simple. He was the destroyer of natural beauty, Hurricane Katrina wouldn’t have held a candle to him. He wanted a drop-dead blonde, or brunette; maybe even a redhead, as much as they disgusted him. He didn’t understand the sudden urges, as they crushed his mind with such force they almost sent him in to shock. Too much information within the last couple days had confused him. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore, or what he was. He felt as if he had needed a plan, some sort of ritualistic manner he could follow, but it was almost as if the information was bred in to his mind. He knew how to extract the victim, and the kind of force it would take. His mind raced as he found a house that seemed familiar. He had seen it before? In his dreams? Nightmares? The woman on the computer was beautiful, even though it was 3 a.m. She smiled as she wrote up a message, looked to be Myspace, Styles confirmed as he peered through the window. “Probably cybering with some fucking fat fuck on the other end, pretending to look like Brad Pitt.” Styles muttered, as his anger rose, wishing he could kill whoever was on the other line instead. Johnny Styles knew what he had to do. He smiled over the thought of fucking this bitch, then cutting her throat, to let her bleed out, just like Havoc’s talent. He wanted to hear her scream for her God, beg for forgiveness. Styles loved this part of the hunt, but tonight wasn’t the time. He knew he could do it within a couple days, take his time rather than rush with the details. This would be a release for him, he knew it; He wanted to see her eyes as the life slipped away. He was already hard, an erection had built over the conquest at hand, and at that instant he knew there wouldn’t be any reason to turn back. He hoped she had a lover, that way he could kill two birds with one stone, literally. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ll have your day, I promise you that. Hopefully sooner than later.” He said, as he broke his glance from the woman, and turned back towards the road. He was ready; every sense was burning with sensation as he strolled down the road, licking his lips in anticipation. He knew he’d have the right moment soon, as he lit up, and strolled back along the deserted roads. The air was crisp, and cool, but it still seemed warm to him. His breathe mixed with the smoke, and formed a large cloud that hovered above him before dispersing in to every which way. He would go home to rest tonight, as much as he didn’t want to, his sleep was crucial to the bigger picture. He looked forward to the excitement brewing within the next couple days. He would send that town in to a downward spiral, cracking the foundation of their every belief. Doubt would be burned in to their mind, destruction chiseled in to their retinas. He was a demon in the land of angels, too much to do with so little time. 
“Who do you want to be?” He demanded. “The fuck if I know.” I responded to my reflection. Yeah, he was fucking with me again. Almost a frequent occurrence… not quite sure where we were headed this time. “You used to know. You used to be the head of the table. Now you’ve let yourself become a seat, if anything. Who the fuck are you?” He said, anger in his tone. “Let me ask, if you’re what I see, then why aren’t we on the same page? Why are so hell bent on conquering everything? You’re filled with bloodlust. You’re me.” I said, still astonished at the fact I was standing before a mirror and holding a heated conversation. “You’re weak… You’re broken, and lost. You aren’t me at all. You’re something different. Somewhere along the line you quit, you became this piece of shit that looks at ME.” He stated matter-of-factly. He pointed out our differences with a bone chilling truth. I was weak, and broken, and the rest of the adjectives he used to describe this shell of a former self. He had caught me off guard; a left hook to the jaw, metaphorically speaking of course. That’d be crazy otherwise. “People feared you. That’s the most power you’d ever taste. That’s the greatest fucking high you would ever have. Instead, you’ve become a sappy piece of shit. Kaos Fail type of shit. Grow up you pussy.” He continued, the verbal onslaught never-ending. The reflection shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, suddenly a pair of world titles sat draped across his chest. “You don’t remember what it’s like to be me. You’ll never get it back, for the shear fact you’ve become lazy, and soft. Havoc looking like a superstar against you? Are you fucking kidding me? Let me in there, I’d mop up.” He tossed the titles aside, and the mirror world shook vigorously as they hit the ground. God this was fucking crazy. “I’ll tell you straight up, you murdered Frank Hart; I’ll give you that. But that’s the only good thing I’ve seen out of you in years; it’s embarrassing. You’re nowhere near the caliber we once was. Maybe it’s time to quit cowering behind their accomplishments. It’s time to climb out of that fucking shadow you live in…” “Do you, nigga.” He laughed, my resentment continuing to build with each potshot. I hated him, but his words were true. They rang clear in the crisp air, laying their heavy blows. I remained speechless, as I pulled myself from the front of the mirror. I’ve been a lot of things in my life, but nothing fit more snug than a quitter. I felt the vomit brewing in my stomach. I stepped back in front of the mirror, catching the eyes of myself, hating what I saw… But loving him at the same time. There was a void, a vast, mind numbing black hole in my soul. Everyone asked what happened to me. They all wondered where I had fallen. Drugs, pussy, stress; who the fuck knew. I didn’t. He was right… he was me. “So then, what do you suggest?” I asked, knowing the retort would be more irritating than anything. “Find your nut sack, wherever the fuck you dropped it.” He taunted, grabbing his own crotch, making his point very well known. My blood boiled, and a sucker punch to the mirror crossed my mind. Fucking crazy. “You’re fucking retarded!” I yelled… at the mirror. “You really think you know what’s going on out here in the real world? You think you have the slightest fucking clue? I’ve been screwed over, embarrassed, and treated like dirt. You’re imaginary, there isn’t anything real about you.” I rambled, letting my reflection know his place in my mind. Wow, about time you showed some of that rage, that hate. You’re different than the others Johnny. You don’t survive by the interactions around you. Besides those select few, you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself. That’s not a bad thing, that’s just how you work. You live off from hate and rage; You destroy things, and people. It’s about time you accepted that and quit being such a whiny bitch. You’re embarrassing me.” He said, continuing to taunt me, as if his words were finally breaking down whatever walls I had put up. I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let him continue to belittle me without any sort of reaction. “You couldn’t do any better.” I quipped, smiling at him this time, hopefully making his insides churn. I bet I could, I bet I’d be twice the man you’ve become, fuck, I’d probably be four times the man you are now. Anything is better than this sniffling brat who still seems to be wet behind the ears. I’d know how to adapt, how to become better. You’ve stayed the same for years, relying on your name to take you places. That rides over, coward, now you’ve become a no showing piece of shit that is a piece of meat tossed to the young lions. You’ve disgraced your name and family.” He said, smiling as if he’d just conquered an empire. His words hit like the ton of bricks they were meant to be, and I reacted quickly, and justly, in my mind. My fist shattered the mirror, and glass spraying in every direction, small shards leaving cuts along my knuckles. I stared at once had been a simple full body mirror, containing the antagonistic reflection of what seemed to be my pride. Staring at the glass, and then my bloodied hand, I felt a great, long smile empower my facial features. The prick had been right the entire time, and I understood that now. Something had happened when I crushed that glass, and it sanctioned a change within me. It lit the fire that had long ago dimmed in to nothing more than a fizzled pile of ashes. “Johnny Styles.” I muttered out loud, the smile grew larger, if that was even possible. The darkness was still there, consuming my insides, growing in to what should have always been, but my eyes were no longer dim, and soul less. They had found meaning, and they could see light years before me. Life was no longer tragic to me; it was just another object for my taking.
A team that has been handed everything. A team who has no morals. A team who would toss you aside the first chance they get. A bunch of soulless motherfuckers. That’s the Asylum. A bunch of rejected Goth motherfuckers, playing boogieman. What kind of team sacrifices one of its founding members? Cipher was all Asylum. Did whatever he was asked to do. And in return…He was treated like a damn bitch! And this is the team representing the tag-team division? This is the team everyone is supposed to fear? The replacement for the Heart Attacks… As much as I hate the fucks, you two clowns aint got shit on the Heart Attacks Everything about you Havoc has already been done, Ask yourself how many Johnny Come Lately have blown through this game with a Darkie gimmick? For crying out load I have been in the ring with men who were the devil themselves. Men like Crimson Skull who on a goodnight makes you look like a damn Halloween juvenile begging for a treat to be handed to him. Don’t believe this metaphor plays true? Who did you defeat to become NLWF Tag-team champions? Not a fucking soul! Had them handed to you. Havoc…Andrew you both speak as though you two matter in grand scheme of NLWF but what have you two done? You act like you're both a driving force, When Andrew just joined the ship, two days before Direct Hit? The Asylum is anything but strong. Members flock in and out every other day. Why do you think Keith Cunningham turned down your invite? Because there is no promise, no reward for being apart of the Asylum. And as soon as he over stays his welcome, he’ll be hung up on a cross. As if you two were reliving the Mesentery days of pro wrestling. It’s the reason why I joined up with Cyber Punk. He doesn‘t believe in your false hype. Were both legends in are respected times. We’ve seen fads like the Asylum come and go. Don’t push my buttons Havoc because that is the last thing you would ever want to do. You really don’t want to exercise your free will in my ring and try and ‘end’ me. You really don’t want to take everything you think you know about me and apply it. Everything you speak is false. Your gimmick is a falsehood to shield you from reality. All it is to you is a place where you can believe what you want to believe. It’s much like an underground cult. You believe in something that isn’t true but you convince yourself so hard that it is. You want to believe you two are the godsend in NLWF. You want to believe you’re here to take down Gods of this game. Couldn‘t be done even with Sil on your side. Inside of you Havoc, slowly beats your cold heart. Inside of you beats the one thing that you keep so ice cold. When Direct Hit comes I will shatter your heart with my bare hands and then what are you going to do? I’ll tell you exactly what you are going to do. You will look at it shattered on the mat. It will slowly melt away and evaporate into nothing. Then what is going to control you? Destiny? Destiny will fall once you lie on the mat with your jaw broken. Destiny will be a lie once the EMT’s strap you to a stretcher and put a neck brace on you. I’ll make sure to send you some flowers while you rest in the hospital. You will need the smell of something alive while you rot to death in the hospital bed. History will remember this day Havoc. They will remember the day an uprising tried to take over the Czars of NLWF. They will remember the day that the Czars stepped off there thrones and faced the rebellion first hand. I will look you in the eyes and you will quiver. Then you and the people you bring behind you will understand that it is not the blade you fear. It will be my divine power. You want to take pride in your ‘superior’ logic, Havoc, then employ it. Don’t pick a fight you know you cannot win. When I lift up my blade and it spins maliciously don’t stand before me… kneel before me. Otherwise… I’ll make it so the world will never know you existed at all. Andrew Savage Welcome to the NLWF, Now get the fuck outta here! Funny how this is a main event and I can't help feeling like I'm starting back at the bottom. That always amuses me. Andrew Savage, a newbie? Lets keep it real, you‘ve been thrown into a match you know nothing about. Your first 48 hours apart of the company have you being feed to the lions of this promotion Allow me to knock a little nugget of information into your head…You can't take down JOHNNY STYLES nor CYBER PUNK. I've seen many just like you. I've been just like you. I've watched rookies come at me for years. Trying to take down my name, and bring up their own. Trying to ride my dick, using my name to get somewhere. Look Andrew, I'm giving you material. I'm giving you something to use against me. Or attempt at least. Instead of the same bullshit you threw at me. The same as everyone else. I bet you enjoy watching my matches. It gives you someone to look up to. You see, I gave you a reason to come at me. You need this match to gain respect. I take this match for a tune up. Same bullshit, different day. Yes I'm a King. Yes, Cyber Punk is a God. And its time for you to be sacrificed! Andrew, I'm every thing you're looking to be. Nothing about you makes you different from the jobbers of this place. You expect for everyone to respect you as soon as you step foot in to MY ring? Who the fuck are you!?! A nobody, exactly. I had heard good things about you, heard you were pretty good. I can't see it. I figured you'd watch some old promos, and make an attempt to pick me apart. But it's not that way is it? You needed me to give you material. Well here it is, use it all. I just wonder though. What's it like at the bottom? I forgot, sorry. It's just been so long that I've been at the top, I forget what its like at the first rung. I know how to win, I know how to talk. I can walk and chew bubble gum too. Imagine that. Can you? Doubt it. Punk and I run this shit Andrew. I know talent when I see it. I've brought in huge names. I didn't bring in you, and there was a reason. You can't cut it. I’m not one to be frightened by your presence. If anything, you should be frightened by me. See, son, you know nothing of me. You‘re still trying to get your sea legs while tip toeing the plank, while the sharks swim in a circle waiting for you to stumble and fall. Which is what will happen at Direct Hit. And Havoc, I don’t have an ounce of respect for you. I don’t care for your demeanor, your posture, and your intentions. Well, I should say your ‘intentions’ with the magic quotation fingers here. What have you done, recently, to show your strength? What have you done to have a going out party? Nothing? Excuse me, I didn’t hear correctly. Did you say something? Of course you didn't People will have you believe that I have some kind of ‘mystique’ about me. People will have you believe that I am not a ‘being’. They want you to believe that I am some person who cannot bleed and one that cannot lose a battle. Let’s make everything perfectly clear. I can and have lost a battle. I can and have bled. I’ve been jumped and crucified enough to know the feeling of both. However, I am something no one will ever be. I am immortal. What happened the last time someone was beaten, bloodied, and shown for display? Does anyone remember? Of course you don’t. The last time someone was shown for display her returned to walk among the mere mortals and be praised for everything he’s ever done. People saw it as honor and vigilance. People praised his name forever. You know what became of him? He became a GOD Look at me, Havoc, and see the truth. Last week I was thrown against the barricade that holds all the peasants away from me, Last week I took matters in my own hands and KILLED frank Hart, and yet I still stand here ready for the next battle, not even a hint of remorse in my tone. A big difference between us. You sacrifice someone and can‘t stop talking about it. I MURDER someone and eat dinner a hour later. Havoc, I look at you today with more hate than you could ever imagine. I look at you with more disgust for everything you stand for than I originally did. I look at you as a traitor to everything you ever stood for. You used to stand for destruction and demise and I could relate to that. Now you abandon your ship, right at the moment your crew needed you. You stand in front of your shadow as the light. At Direct Hit, I’ll make sure you join back with your darker side. I’ll make sure it happens when you land right on your shadow. Your death is now, You’re Sacrifice is SATURDAY kid. You’ve been a dead man walking for weeks and you’re just now getting ready to sit on the electric chair. You’re guilty as charged for trespassing on my turf. Once I hit the switch, there is no turning back. And while the lights in the room blink and your body shakes from the excruciating pain, you’ll see God standing in front of you with the most devilish of smiles. Your days of being a Leader are over. Your days of claiming to be a threat is over and there is nothing you can do about it. Not only well I put the final dagger to your career at Direct Hit, but I well also lay the last kick to the Asylum’s back! -- FIN -- |