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Leaping to new heights
Disaster was becoming all too common. The statue had cracked and revealed the flesh and bones entrapped within. A second body laid before the foot of the decrepit castle, his throat slit from ear to ear, eyes open to the holy forces dragging him to the after life. Havoc hadn’t even seen it coming. His naked body stood strong, finally regaining the power that had been lost within the stone. He hadn’t awoken mad, or even bothered. It had been a peaceful time for him; he was almost more upset at being dragged back in to the freefall that was Nolimits. It was almost unfortunate that such a peon had to be murdered, but there wasn’t any excuse for it. He had died for the cause, as simple as that. Styles collected the deceased’s clothing and dressed himself; he wasn’t happy in the least bit. It was much of a contrast from the clothing of royalty, but it would do in this certain situation. He had no idea what to do now; his path had been interrupted, leading to the stone entrapment. He was ready to head in to the battle, and he disguised himself in the fallen man’s clothes. He was desperate to see his former civilization, and to be witness to its fall from greatness. He strode along the desert ground, his feeble sandals unable to withstand the constant lashings from the sand, forcing him to walk barefoot. His feet were burning, and beginning to leave traces of the perilous journey. They’d have to read his feet to understand the story; it was surely there. Styles made his way to the center of town, the empty streets showed nothing of the vibrant life that had been present before. Everything seemed deserted and run down, the entire city left to perish beneath the on going battle. Styles strode along the streets, his pace quickened as he looked for some sort of cover. Everything now was pointing to survival for him; he could only think of a few friends who would house him upon his return, and unfortunately he had no clue on how to contact them. Two men casually strode around the corner of a building, large automatic weapons holstered on their shoulders. Styles quickly darted for cover behind a building, and slowed his breathing. He watched as they passed by, giving little notice to their surroundings. He could’ve easily snuck up and snapped their necks, but he decided to keep himself hidden as much as possible; He was a ghost to these people now. The two men passed along, and disappeared in to the thick fog, and Styles snuck back out to the street, finally finding an abandoned building to respite within. He worked his way to the furthermost room, and finally collapsed to the floor. He’d have to find Cyber Punk tomorrow, or else he’d be a dead man. Style’s body finally relinquished to the pain, and he shuddered before falling in to a deep unconsciousness. God damn, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But he was finally going back to his safe place; or at least a dream. Ride for hours, Supply the flowers. This is history in the making,, Now shut the fuck up and let me make it. 
Cyber Punk and SBK laughed as they each took a long drag of the blunt, then passed it to the third party. The environment was the same, a dimly lit nightclub, except this time everyone there was a female, and they had been surgically enhanced to unrecognizable. Tits bounce to and fro, even the set of triple fucked E’s that sat in the corner of the room. SBK took another drag as it was passed to him, and he inhaled deep. “God man, this shit is fucking amazing. I’m floating as we speak!” He bellowed, as the two other men snickered. They were in the presence of the Devil, and Styles had name-dropped God. “I’ve been waiting for you, gentlemen.” The Devil boomed, nodding his head to his guests. “I’m sure you have.” Styles muttered, as he nudged Punk. The blunt was passed around again, the three tried to keep from snickering. The Devil had already gained Cyber Punk and SBK’s soul; he didn’t need to be around any longer, but he actually enjoyed the company of the two men. Watching Hitler east porcupines had grown old to him. The devil hit the blunt until he coughed, and began to choke. The other two just laughed hysterically, until the Devil shot a death glare at the two; but they just laughed harder. “What are you going to do, take our soul?” SBK shouted, laughing even harder this time, CP adding in; “Yeah you fuck, learn how to hit a blunt.” SBK screamed, mid laugh. The Devil just stared in astonishment, then broke out laughing. “Thank God he was high” Both men thought to himself. There was that word again. They laughed even harder; and fortunately, so did the Devil. The devil smirked at the two men, and both men sat slumped, smiling back in their amplified state of mind. The Devil looked nothing like Pacino, whatever the stereotype of him was. He was middle aged, and attractive. No Homo. He probably fit in wherever he decided to walk on the Earth. Oh, wait, he already did. They continued to tear in laughter as Cyber Punk rested his cranium against SBK. Carefully studying the devil, CP bravely whispered “I bet he's got money.” Divorcing himself from CP, SBK grinned while nodding his head. Quietly slithering against the leather skin of the couch, CP watched as the devil choked from the thick tang of weed smoke while chuckling back. “Man you better hurry the fuck up!” SBK whispered as Cyber Punk quickly dipped his fingers into the pocket of Lucifer. They scratched and clawed against the leather of his wallet; his scheming fingers hooked from all ends as he withdrew the wallet. SBK chuckled back as he then murmured “Did you see the fucking watch?” Sucking his teeth Cyber Punk quickly replied while burying the wallet in his pocket. Lucifer couldn’t do anything but laugh at that point. He could feel the burning sensation of a priceless coin in Cyber Punk’s pocket, and it cause him to laugh even harder; as did the two meatheads. “You know, you two actually make me laugh.” Lucifer said, the booth seemed to shake with his laugh. “Good, I’m a fucking comedian.” SBK stated, hitting the blunt again. But then he got down to business. “Listen bro, you’re know we enjoy the good time. Fuck man, I love tits. But let’s figure this shit our real quick and takeover that pussy festival out there. No need to dick around anymore. Let’s get to business.” SBK stated with balls, Cyber Punk straightening up in his seat, ready for the forthcoming transaction. The Devil glanced back over to the two men, his blood shot eyes seemed redder than anything the two men had ever seen before. He continued to stare before he looked down at the diminished blunt, and he crack a smile; of all the things to do. “You know” Lucifer began before pausing for a moment “I like you two, but I still own your soul’s, that’s a given thus far. I understand you’d like them back; I understand that completely. My only thing is… I’m gonna need A LOT in return.” He stated as he lit a cigarette, SBK following his lead. “I’m going to need something that might be too hard to acquire. I’m talking about Havoc. He seems so pure, and untouched; Fucker has been playing Satan to long. I want his fucking soul!” Lucifer stated as he began to laugh uncontrollably as SBK and Cyber Punk didn’t understand, and exchanged glances. “I’m asking for different things. This is by far a team job. SBK, I want Havoc, Nightmare, and Andrew Savage’s souls. That is my only offer that could ever be traded for yours. It’s more than a fair trade, I think.” Lucifer stated, as he dragged down the remaining three quarters of his cigarette; definitely impressive. SBK put his down as he thought about how difficult that would be. He definitely had Havoc’s trust, but he was still different. He wasn’t as free as Cyber Punk. He wasn’t anything like my former partner Joe Santiago. “This is gonna be fucking difficult; fuck, you knew that already.” SBK stated in disgust. “Prick” He mumbled, beneath his breath; or at least he thought. The Devil laughed at the comment, before putting his hand out for SBK to shake. “It’s a deal then, Mr. Styles?” “Fine.” SBK said in a defeated tone, before shaking Lucifer’s hand. Then the Devil turned to Cyber Punk. “Now as for you Cyber Punk!” The devil coolly whispered, while smoke swirled from his nostrils. “You and I have had some fun haven't we? I mean think of everything we've done.” He then frowned as a grin crept curving his lips. “Yes, I did leave you out to dry in the end Cyber Punk; But, here's your chance to collect your soul.” Cyber Punk continued to listen as SBK did the same, while holding the Newport between his fingers. “You see, I have something else for you Cyber Punk. You’re going to learn the hard way. From what I've seen, you’ve been causing problems with my carriers......... my mob.” Placing his cigarette down, he continued, as his voice triggered the hatred he had for Cyber Punk. “You see your soul is in a product of mine. Once you have tasted that product then that's when you'll find your soul” The devil stated, while pulling back against the leather. “What fucking product?” Punk questioned as the devil shrugged his shoulders. Before he could give a response, a second blunt was pushed in to Lucifer’s hands; SBK had rolled in within the exchange between the other two men. The Devil smiled as he pulled up a lighter, and lit the thing, dragging two large hits, before passing it back to SBK. “Go enjoy some of the show.” Lucifer stated as smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. “Fuck man, I’ve been waiting for this business to end, I want some fucking pussy.” Johnny Styles stated matter-of-factly, as he had already pulled himself out of the booth. “Too much twat to waste, faggots!” He exclaimed, as he darted off on to the dance floor, Cyber Punk quickly following, as the Devil laughed.
SBK awoke with the sound of devastation. Subconsciously he had heard the bombings, and the reverberation of the foot soldiers walking through the streets. There had to be hundreds of them, all walking to the same beat. Impressive, but at the same time, it seemed to be a foolish idea. Throw a couple red coats on, and you’d have the losing party of the American Civil War. SBK cautiously arose from his slouch, and dragged himself to the door. He watched as Havoc led his troops along the road. Certainly not much of an enigma. SBK sat within the empty building, curious as to what was happening, his inner inhibitions burning out from within his pores. A slight sweat broke out along his skin, as he thought about slitting Havoc’s throat. He needed the perfect moment. The mass of bodies continued along the street, impressive and strong. Havoc had a strong following, and SBK was more than sure he would have little problem using them as an expense. With a little luck, Havoc climbed from his post, which had been carried by the few slaves he had left alive. He strode along each building, entering and exiting with his own regard. He was only a few houses from where SBK inhabited, and neither man was bound to surrender. Except for the fact that Havoc had the army. SBK move himself from room to room, avoiding being caught in the sight of any henchmen. Finally, he worked himself in to the same room as Havoc. The leader of the Asylum was looking the opposite way, and SBK found the best opportunity to gain the upper hand. “Revenge is due” SBK stated, as Havoc whirled around, his eyes focused on SBK as if he was translucent. “Not a ghost Havoc” SBK continued, as Havoc placed his hand on the sword dwelling within his overcoat. The only thing SBK had was the shard of glass that had killed the man outside of the temple. The tool that had began this entire sequence. Hate stood it’s ground within both men’s eyes, and they continued to circle one another. Finally, Havoc’s henchmen had entered the room and circled SBK, the former King. NO! Havoc screamed, as the first of the henchmen lunged at SBK. His chest ended up cut, and he fell to the ground dead, eyes open to the heavens; SBK took the opportunity to close them for him. “I want him myself! All of you leave!!” Havoc stated, as his men followed the orders, and left the two men in the deserted home. “You won’t live.” Havoc stated, his confidence overwhelming. “You neither” SBK muttered as the two men dove in to battle.
Havoc, I just fucking raped you. No spit, and no rubber. Just like I did when we meet one on one two weeks ago…Just like I DID LAST WEEK. How fucking lucky are you that Silva and every other nameless hack came out and disturb are match? My work alone was enough to bury the entire Asylum. Screw jobs is what the Asylum is all about. A stable made up of Johnny come lately who in retrospect don’t stand a fucking chance in NLWF alone. Just like yourself Havoc! You better hope your Asylum dogs are paying close attention to your safety come Direct Hit. Because I promise you. The New Design are issuing are own bounty. The head of Havoc before New Era! And after we take your head, the rest of your crew will crumble. All the way up the line. All the way to Death Angel and Nightmare. Andrew Savage…Nightmare…Jobbers sums up that peering I’ve been meaning to show you rookies your place in line. I wanted to make sure you two understood where you stand behind the big players. Nice swerve, faggot. Both of you, Andrew Savage and Nightmare, You’re both two cocksuckers following the examples left before you. Following Havoc‘s every word. Following his words over the side of the cliff, got cold feet? No worries myself and Punk will kick you over the edge. 300 style on you bitches You align yourself with fucking schmucks, run a shit show, and somehow think that the Asylum changed the game. What the fuck you two changing buds? The standards? Because they’re definitely a lot fucking lower now, you piece of stale shits. You two want to be original, you want to be something fresh? Well then, change whatever the fuck you’re doing, and take some notes on Punk and I Shit wait, can you two try and swagger jack anything else from The New Design? I doubt it, were you’re fucking role models bitches. Were the guys that you look at, and try to impersonate. Shit isn’t working. I’m wasting my time trying to prove my point. None of you are mainstream yet; Even with Havoc named number one contender. He’s just another replacement. that’s the unofficial theme of the Asylum. REPLACEMENTS that can and will be Replaced What am I supposed to do though? There’s too much to tear you two apart on, I’d be wasting the viewers time with this shit. They all see you two as the translucent piece of shits you are. Yeah, translucent. Need me to spell it asshole? I’m giving you fucks too much credit, using words that big. Fuck, I’m wasting more than credit; I’m wasting time. This was murder since the first verse, now we’re hitting the hook. It’s cool. You two just bit off a little too much. Now it gets fun. Eat them words faggots, it’s more than a mouthful. Should of no showed, the Kings of the New Desgin just ruined your fucking month bitches. H I S T O R Y. I N .T H E .M A K I N G. Now shut the fuck up, and Cyber Punk and Myself make it. FIN |