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FUCKOUTTA HERE
“FUCKOUTTA HERE!” “In the time it takes a Casket to be filled with concert, gives me enough time to make sure this young buck understands that you don’t fuck with another man’s life. I swear to you all watching, I will take a dive to save my son. But Cyrus will not pin me on his own will. I am gunning to take this cocksuckers face off. Then when he can’t stand on his two feet. I’ll lay down. And Ill place his arm on me.” “I just told you everything I’m gonna do Cyrus, and the sad part is…You can’t do shit to stop it!” “What makes you think you can stop my plan from happening? What makes you think that you’ve earned some respect around here? You lost your strap to Johnny Electric, and you want to compare yourself to me?” “Start reading the history books, homie.” “See, when you were still wetting the bed, I was running the show, changing the game for the better. I started stables, I trained future champions, and I demolished legends. You’re a piece of shit compared to them. You stole my style, my swagger, and you’re trying to run with it. It’s not working out bro.” “You’re neither edgy, nor cool.” “The suit, the cocky attitude, the One World Nation, I get it; I see what you’re trying to accomplish. Thanks for the flattery” “Thanks but no thanks.” “But, I will admit, you made some valid points in these weeks. Made me realize, I’m not what I used to be. I’m not connecting on both ends like before; I’m a bit confused. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. I’m tired of the training, the performing, everything.” “I’m bored.” “But look at you, full of life; fresh. I remember that. I can remember many of things that I’ve accomplished. But I think it’s time to let them go. That’s the past right? I’m washed up, trying to catch my reality here. I’m losing time, right boss?” “I’m not sure.” “New chapter, fresh start. I’ve tried this before; We’ll give it one last run. What’d you think?” “I’ll show you why I’ve done what I’ve done.” “The things you heard about me…” “I fucking earned them, buck.” 
“Mr. Styles, the board will see you now.” The receptionist said, as she arose from her desk, a bluetooth headset clung to her ear. This was the big moment, my leap from mortal to the likes of a God. I was destined for this, years of vigorous tasks. It was time to embark on a mythical journey. The bitch in the headset ushered me through with her hands, eyeballing the shit out of me. I’ll give you a reason to look. “Sorry, wrong weight class.” I said, following with a laugh. She muttered something; I knew she was cursing me. I followed her appointed trail and turned left two doors down. The group of high-ranking gentlemen before me would cast my fate. “Gentlemen.” I stated with my best politician impression. Shaking hands and smiling, it was easy. They all greeted me with the matching gratitude. They could care less about me, I knew this; what worried me was their take on my status. Fuck them, I’ve done a lot, my name speaks VOLUMES. People fucking quote me, how could I not be promoted? I was a GOD right? I sat before them all, each one stared at me with disgust. They had never liked the way I had approached them. I was always told I had little respect for anyone. Fuck ‘em, I didn’t know them, and they sure as hell didn’t know me. “Mr. Styl-” One of them started, William I think it was. Short, gray-haired man, wider than he was tall; all of them looked like they could use a month on a treadmill. Fucking Bill. Jesus Christ was I disgusted as I stood from my seat. “Johnny. Just call me Johnny. None of this Mister bullshit. Now Bill, continue.” I said, cutting Billy off mid sentence. I smiled and sat back down, pulling my legs up on to the corner of the table, tucking my hands behind my head. Might as well get comfortable. “See it’s this bullshit.” I heard one of them mutter, as my eyes darted back and forth, searching for the culprit. “Okay wiseass, please tell me why I wouldn’t deserve my Immortal Status? What the fuck haven’t I done for you spineless pieces of shit? I’ve earned my fucking place!” I said. It had begun so smoothly, now my blood was boiling. I could feel the beads of sweat building on my forehead. I cuffed my sleeves up, and loosened my tie, trying to cool myself down. It was a terrible Irish temper I had. “You, Lloyd, how about a gin and tonic? Can you do that for me?” I said, pointing at the man’s face. He sat there for a moment, almost in awe of my abruptness. Finally he rose and mixed a stiff drink from the bar, even threw a lime in to it. Nice guy that Lloyd was. “This is the shit Styles. This is why you’ll never get what you’re asking for. You can’t handle it. Plus your performances as of late, have been… let’s just say less than stellar. And allowing your son to get kidnap? You’ve turned in to a bad investment.” One of them said, he hadn’t been sitting at the table. Lurking back in the shadows of the room, fucking coward. “So you understand we won’t be letting you in. Sorry.” Another stated matter-of-factly. He sat there with a smug look on his face, almost proud that he’d finally stood up to a bully. I leapt across the table and pummeled that look in his face. Within the confusion I had landed some “accidental” elbows, and knees. And yea Cyrus had to do something to make his appear like he has a set. Had to do something to remove his teen booper image. I bet the fuck still wets the bed…But other then that, I was quite satisfied with my performance; far beyond mediocrity. “I’ll be back in six fucking months, and I’ll expect this meeting to go much smoother next time.” I said as I cleaned the blood from my knuckles… brand new fucking shirt, too. “I’ll let myself out.” I muttered as I exited, leaving the door wide open behind me. Fucking bullshit. “Get a boob job.” I cooed to the receptionist as I exited the office, still wearing that queer fucking earpiece. I smiled to the bewilderment of the waiting room.
“He wanted to be me. He had to. He studied my style, my composure. He’s been sneaking in as many glances as possible. He loved my swagger, as much to make it his own. Why not? It looked so fucking good.” “I’m not sure what to think. I’m a bit irritated but the poor kid is star struck. He needs this for himself. I’d been there, Christ, for first timers I look like junk. I’m rusty as fuck, and I’m not as eager as I once was. I’m uncomfortable, that’s perfect.” “But he’s seen me succeed; he’s been a fan from the beginning. He’s caught that sense of self-worth I ooze. I’m happy he caught his stride, but why was it mine? Why is it someone else jumping on to coattails? I’m tired of watching looping timelines.” “I was once a King.” “Now I’m struggling, trying to keep pace with the fresh faces. I feel old, but it’s not possible, I’m not even 35 yet.” “Maybe it’s something I’ve done wrong? I’ve relied too much on other people lately? Nope, I think it’s the fact that I could give two shits if this sank or floated. NLWF that is.” “He stole my son. He wears his pride on his sleeve, the confidence leaked from his pores. His designer suits matched his composure; they flaunted his god-given sense of style. The whole Hollywood Stable One World Nation. He loved the Hollywood life. He loved the beautiful, exotic women; the type that you’d have a wet dream for. Blonde, brunette, it never really mattered. His story was always the same: successful, rich, and charming.” “Remind you of someone?” “It should. It reminds me when I was fresh faced, ready to take on the world.” “Then I did, and won.” “I’ve made a name for myself here, because I’ve done legendary things. I’ve made the dream come true. Now I’m just lingering around, hoping for a handout. I’m gonna try something else.” “I’m going to switch directions.” “Congratulations on trying to be me Cyrus. Thank you for making an attempt at trying a day in my shoes. But lets face the facts here junior, it doesn’t look good for you. I’ve seen you before, too many times. I’ve watched the likes of you try to run with the big dogs. Hyped up on whatever they had done prior. But you haven’t beat anyone worth wild since coming here. Joe and I crushed you, and Electric took you out two weeks ago with my help. Who do you think I work with pal? Who do you think has beaten them before?” “You got it, bud.” “I’ve done this long enough where this can be the last run. Win or lose with you, and I CAN forecast that W, I’m finishing my career. So you want to be that stepping stone, it’s fine with me. We’ll make this quick, and hopefully painful.” “But I’m sure you already know what’s coming. You seem very comfortable stealing my son just to get your dick wet, and looking up everyone in my past. You certainly did your homework didn’t you?” “You’ve ridden your cloud far enough guy, times are about to change. “ “No worries though, I hear Wizney has a spin off for yea.”
She hadn’t screamed like I had hoped, but her little boyfriend had been more than enough entertainment. He would’ve killed the bitch first, but she had earned the right to watch her boy toy scream and writhe in pain. Styles hadn’t even cut him yet, and he had pleaded for his life and forgiveness. Instead, he had gotten the end of his mortal existence, how fitting. As for that prized young lady, she had muttered something about God’s willingness of forgiveness, and had assured me I could be spared. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be. Her throat lay open, ear-to-ear. God had met Styles before; he had wanted nothing to do with him. Alive, that’s what this feeling was. Pure and utter existence. It was the finest feeling he knew, that one right after the soul escaped the lifeless carcasses. There wasn’t any need for forgiveness, this was all meant to be. Destiny made it’s self clear within Styles’ travels. It had been hours since I had butchered the couple, yet I still relaxed within the confines of their warm home. Incense burned at the corner of the room, it’s coils of smoke danced their way through the air. The scents sent shivers through my spine, sending me in to a deep ecstasy. Pictures littered the walls, mostly of the woman and her canine companion. He was still out back, waiting to be let in. Soon, I would, but first I had to admire my craftsmanship. I could never hurt a dog anyways… call me soft. It was time to go, the incense had burned itself out, taking it’s warmth with it. Too much purity; time to go. As I arrived back to my small apartment, my mind raced to the night before, remembering that odd women at the pub. She had been absolutely stunning, beautiful to say the least. Fuck, that had been an understatement. She had some sort of odd resemblance about her, almost as if I’d seen her before. Her eyes held every secret I had. It had been my first interaction that had resembled anything with context. Everything else was the same plotline, the same script. Eva I think it was. She had known about the wholesomeness of the town. The god fearers they all were. She had known about my violence. But she had only smiled, so perfectly at that. She was so familiar. But a distraction, and I didn’t need one of those right now. I needed to have my head on straight, ready to go at whichever moment. Clarity is what I needed. I was beginning my war. Breaking down the walls of purity that held this place so tightly in tact. Very slowly I played this chess game, sending my messages one by one. Having a bit of fun for a while, then unveil my works of art. Unveil the masterpieces to the joy of the retina. All in due time would everything change for the better. Disaster would consume the town, slowly turning them in to the nonbelievers, survival of the fittest. Hate, lust, a dash of evil; shaken not stirred. Absolutely beautiful to watch. Then I could rally the troops, the firm believers ripped apart by doubt, holding on to anything to gratify their existence. That’s when humanity becomes truly admirable,; when it’s torn to shreds by itself. Greed rears it’s ugly head, and runs rampant. That’s when I’ll rally, and conquer. That will be when I make my move. Ride the brilliant strategy straight to immortal life. War could be such a beautiful thing. Oh it certainly would be.
Look at who is in One World Nation. Two people who want attention in some sort. Two people who have never really succeeded in this business and want the spotlight given to them. So what do they do? They kidnap and get handed championships. They use the thing that gives shock and awe so people will try and pay attention to them. They need and desire attention all the time and when the attention isn’t on them they start to freak. They then do more things to get attention and the vicious cycle continues.” “It’s a very vicious cycle.” “The thing about attention, though, is that you can have too much. Once you have too much attention things start to get boring. They become the same thing over and over again. Jumping Jada? Cliché. The paint is starting to peel, kids, and it’s only a matter of time before The East needs to be repainted with a new coat. You aren’t rising anymore. You’re just falling. When you hit the ground you’re not going to have anything to brace yourself. Your legs will break and your egos will be shattered. Nothing will save you. That’s when I come and rip you limb from limb and I start painting NLWF with a fresh coat.” “I’ll paint it red.” “Brenton Cyrus isn’t a threat to me. He’s nothing to me. Why should he be something to me? He’s the bug I wiped off my windshield this afternoon. He’s the dirt I wiped off my shoe when I entered my house. Cyrus wants you to believe that he’s the new badass with his actions but this destruction wouldn’t have started if it wasn’t for people like me… both incarnations. You’re just cleaning up the scraps… hoping that your little gathering would get enough attention to where you could take control.” “It’s not going to work like that.” “He wants to make everyone believe that the saying “out with the old, in with the new” is in effect. Well, Cyrus, when the new is utter shit then how do we believe that? We can’t. We can’t rely on two ingrates to ‘save’ us from NLWF. It’s not possible. Why? Because they’re not really saving us from anything. They’re stopping the old guard from coming in and laying waste to everyone and everything in our path.” “That’s exactly what I will do in the ring at War Games” “This isn’t your world. It’s mine. And as much as you want to try and convince yourself it isn’t… it is. You know it, I know it, and the world knows it. I created the classics in that ring, not you. I’ve held championships more than anyone in NLWF besides Santiago and I’ve held them longer than anyone in this game. There is no rising while I’m here. You’ve had your fun, Cyrus, and it’s now time you get destroyed.” “Permanently.” “This is your last warning. If you want your life to be easier… you will not even try at War Games, just save yourself from a Unconisous victory and give me back Lex. I’m on a mission for blood and I will not stop until I get it! You will fall at my boot. This is going to be a massacre and once you’re grinded into bits I’ll make sure you realize whose house this really is.” “So I ask the question again: why? Do you really want to know why?” “The Man.” “The Myth.” “The Legend.” “The Strike Back Kid” “Why? Because the classics never die.” -- [ FIN ] -- |