Post by Angel Blake on Apr 22, 2018 1:08:42 GMT
”I have been called many names over many millennia…”
The sudden boom of his voice shot your eyes awak as you stared up at the blank white ceiling of your sad studio apartment.
”Osiris. Zeus. Odin. Amaterasu Omikami. Buddha. Quetzalcoatl. For as long as there have been humans there has been a name for who and what I am. All of which were vessels to serve my purpose.”
Without thought you sit up from your bed. Without question you follow the sound of his voice.
”You refer to this vessel as Angel Blake, a pale painted man of absolute horror. I chose him for a reason. Your fear of his capabilities intrigues me. The way even the strongest of your species sinks back entertains me. Humans are capable of so much wonder yet introduce a little bit of terror and you find out how spineless they truly are.”
Bare feet slaps against pavement then crunches branches until finally walking over broken stone.
”I once sought to alter the path of humanity. I had hoped by presenting you with God in the flesh you would see your own divinity and embrace it. I was incredibly wrong. Each time I graced humanity with my presence you refuted me, refused me and more than once you killed me.”
“Not this time.”
“I have come back to you in this form not by coincidence but by design. Through the hands of Angel Blake I will deliver subjugation and domination. I will give humanity the iron fist they have been begging for. You have asked why I do not interfere in your lives? You are about to find out.”
Your clammy hand reaches for the rusty iron handle of the crumbling wooden door. You’re finally where you belong.
”Tristan.”
His spoken name freezes you in place, memories flood your vision as you witness countless training sessions, sparring matches and lectures. You feel your heart pause as the moment of ultimate betrayal plays once more and you see the master of one thousand holds laid out.
”For too long now you have taught the willing in your ways, like a false prophet you stood before them and dictated how the world works. However you seldom listen to your own lessons as time and again you have allowed past failures to influence your future. I have heard your prayers, your never ending questions of why…”
“Why are you not good enough?”
“Why are you not fast enough?”
“Why do you fail so often and so gloriously?”
“I have heard your questions, Tristan and I do feel sorry for you. I pity you. You do not deserve to be the mockery you have become. The amount of time you have devoted to the profession we find ourselves a part of is unchallenged. No one out works you, no one out trains you, you are by all rights a wrestling dictionary of moves…”
“But this mindless devotion has only brought you disappointment.”
“Furthermore it has cost you friends and family. Instead of looking to the lord for guidance you look to me for answers about your own frailty. Tristan, I have given you all the tools I can give, it is up to you to use them. Instead you have decided to squander and waste the exponential possibilities this life has gifted upon you and instead focus ever so narrowly on your dogmatic approach to the business.”
“You made professional wrestling your God”
With hesitation you push the old doors open and peer down the dimly lit hallway. Beyond the pale you see a crease of light shining through in the darkness. You know he is there.
”But your God is cruel and unforgiving. Your God celebrates maniacs and madmen who are not interested in being the best wrestler, victory is their God.”
“And you wonder how Jayson could abandon you?”
“What life do you offer someone as talented and amazing as the Son of God besides a life of failure? Your dogma leads to mediocrity in a profession that has a five star matches every single week. You walk among titans who are unafraid to end your very life for a simple piece of gold and expect someone like Jayson Matthews to walk the same path as you when it has been so fruitless, so painful…”
“And so pointless?”
“The name of Tristan will only be legend among those foolish enough to follow him. In the greater world that is our business you will not be remembered. You will not be revered. You will simply be a cautionary.”
“Behold, Nighthawk, the Master of One Thousand Holds, forever Mastered by One Thousand Opponents.”
“Jayson Matthews betrayed you and your false God because I offered him what you never could. I offered Jayson the truth, not just about his father but about life itself. The secret you are too inept to understand or accept.”
“Only the strong survive.”
“Jayson is strong, stronger than you ever gave him credit for. He has battled in bloodier wars than you and not just survived but thrived. He has faced and defeated titans of this industry. Jayson Matthews chose to cast aside your false God, ignore your idiotic diatribes and accept me into his heart.”
“I delivered him.”
You found yourself now standing before the Lord and Savior. Clad in all gold leather, his pale painted face arched into a terrible grin, he stroked his pet tiger who purred loudly at his touch.
”Did I not, Jayson?”
”Y-yes…”
”Your eyes are opened now. You understand. Those who do not fight for themselves are not worth fighting for. That is why Tristan must be purged from this world once and for all.”
You felt yourself step forward suddenly almost on instinct.
”Don’t hurt him.”
Your voice was pleading, begging, the Lord did not waver in his cold gaze.
”He does not deserve my mercy.”
You drop to your knees before the throne of God.
”No. I know but I still care about him… I…”
”Worship him?”
”No but he doesn’t deserve… Whatever you’re going to do to him-”
Without warning the Lord rises, his hand striking the side of your face sending you flat onto your back. The panther quickly pounces and pins you to the cold stone ground.
”WHAT HE DESERVES!?”
The Lord stands over you bloating out what little light there is like a golden nightmare.
”What he deserves is to burn in hell for denying my existence! What he deserves is an eternity in the lake of fire with all the other putrid sinners who refuse me! What he deserves is to suffer pain never ending until he finally accepts me as the one true God and even then be cast out into the void!”
“He deserves no mercy.”
“He deserves no safe haven.”
“Tristan is the same as every other ineffectual internet hero whose strongest weapon is his swiftness with a keystroke. Quick to point out what is wrong with this world but never moving to effect any real change! Tristan has had decades to enlighten humanity but instead has chosen to hide behind walls and words! How many lives has he saved!? How many has he changed!? And how many did he simply disregard out of hand as not worth his time!?”
“Tristan is the epitome of humanities unwillingness to be better.”
“Passing out judgment like bullets from a clip to whomever crosses his path but never ever willing to step in and make a difference. For years I have listened to him judge his peers as if he has some moral high ground but always end up flat on his face pondering where he went wrong. The answer is simple, he lacks the strength of his convictions and so is nothing more than a paper thin hero of humanity whom I shall burn once and for all!”
The hot breath of the tiger hits you in the face like a warm blanket but you muster the strength to respond.
”Just don’t hurt him.”
The Lord bends down, cradling your face in his icy palm.
”For you my son? I would do anything…”
The Lord rises again as the panther curls into a ball against your hip, the warmth of her buddy making you realize how cold this room is.
”Tristan will survive our encounter. This I promise you.”
The Lord looks down at you, his eyes like an abyss sucking you in.
”But he will never be the same again.”
The Lord once more takes his seat upon his throne, the IWF World Championship now proudly seated on his shoulder.
”This trinket is mine to win. Mine to lose. Tristan is but a character in the Testament of God and he will finally learn his place this Sunday. Pray for him Jayson, for he does not know his sins.”
”I will.”
”Pray for all those who deny me. Before they know it they too will beg for mercy beneath my boot. They wanted me to answer their prayers?”
“I will.”
“They will not live to regret it.”
Saint Michael suddenly appeared from the darkness besides the Lord.
”All Bloody Hail.”
You'll die with fear in your eyes
Praying... begging for a merciful death.
Suffer 'til the last drop of blood.
In your hopeless position, this is the best that I've got.
Suffer, just like you made me do. Just like you made me feel
The bleeding has stopped, but the scars won't heal.
There just ain't enough pain to punish you the way you deserve
...In those ways I need
The hour is late and your time is up
You better run 'cause this day is mine
The sudden boom of his voice shot your eyes awak as you stared up at the blank white ceiling of your sad studio apartment.
”Osiris. Zeus. Odin. Amaterasu Omikami. Buddha. Quetzalcoatl. For as long as there have been humans there has been a name for who and what I am. All of which were vessels to serve my purpose.”
Without thought you sit up from your bed. Without question you follow the sound of his voice.
”You refer to this vessel as Angel Blake, a pale painted man of absolute horror. I chose him for a reason. Your fear of his capabilities intrigues me. The way even the strongest of your species sinks back entertains me. Humans are capable of so much wonder yet introduce a little bit of terror and you find out how spineless they truly are.”
Bare feet slaps against pavement then crunches branches until finally walking over broken stone.
”I once sought to alter the path of humanity. I had hoped by presenting you with God in the flesh you would see your own divinity and embrace it. I was incredibly wrong. Each time I graced humanity with my presence you refuted me, refused me and more than once you killed me.”
“Not this time.”
“I have come back to you in this form not by coincidence but by design. Through the hands of Angel Blake I will deliver subjugation and domination. I will give humanity the iron fist they have been begging for. You have asked why I do not interfere in your lives? You are about to find out.”
Your clammy hand reaches for the rusty iron handle of the crumbling wooden door. You’re finally where you belong.
”Tristan.”
His spoken name freezes you in place, memories flood your vision as you witness countless training sessions, sparring matches and lectures. You feel your heart pause as the moment of ultimate betrayal plays once more and you see the master of one thousand holds laid out.
”For too long now you have taught the willing in your ways, like a false prophet you stood before them and dictated how the world works. However you seldom listen to your own lessons as time and again you have allowed past failures to influence your future. I have heard your prayers, your never ending questions of why…”
“Why are you not good enough?”
“Why are you not fast enough?”
“Why do you fail so often and so gloriously?”
“I have heard your questions, Tristan and I do feel sorry for you. I pity you. You do not deserve to be the mockery you have become. The amount of time you have devoted to the profession we find ourselves a part of is unchallenged. No one out works you, no one out trains you, you are by all rights a wrestling dictionary of moves…”
“But this mindless devotion has only brought you disappointment.”
“Furthermore it has cost you friends and family. Instead of looking to the lord for guidance you look to me for answers about your own frailty. Tristan, I have given you all the tools I can give, it is up to you to use them. Instead you have decided to squander and waste the exponential possibilities this life has gifted upon you and instead focus ever so narrowly on your dogmatic approach to the business.”
“You made professional wrestling your God”
With hesitation you push the old doors open and peer down the dimly lit hallway. Beyond the pale you see a crease of light shining through in the darkness. You know he is there.
”But your God is cruel and unforgiving. Your God celebrates maniacs and madmen who are not interested in being the best wrestler, victory is their God.”
“And you wonder how Jayson could abandon you?”
“What life do you offer someone as talented and amazing as the Son of God besides a life of failure? Your dogma leads to mediocrity in a profession that has a five star matches every single week. You walk among titans who are unafraid to end your very life for a simple piece of gold and expect someone like Jayson Matthews to walk the same path as you when it has been so fruitless, so painful…”
“And so pointless?”
“The name of Tristan will only be legend among those foolish enough to follow him. In the greater world that is our business you will not be remembered. You will not be revered. You will simply be a cautionary.”
“Behold, Nighthawk, the Master of One Thousand Holds, forever Mastered by One Thousand Opponents.”
“Jayson Matthews betrayed you and your false God because I offered him what you never could. I offered Jayson the truth, not just about his father but about life itself. The secret you are too inept to understand or accept.”
“Only the strong survive.”
“Jayson is strong, stronger than you ever gave him credit for. He has battled in bloodier wars than you and not just survived but thrived. He has faced and defeated titans of this industry. Jayson Matthews chose to cast aside your false God, ignore your idiotic diatribes and accept me into his heart.”
“I delivered him.”
You found yourself now standing before the Lord and Savior. Clad in all gold leather, his pale painted face arched into a terrible grin, he stroked his pet tiger who purred loudly at his touch.
”Did I not, Jayson?”
”Y-yes…”
”Your eyes are opened now. You understand. Those who do not fight for themselves are not worth fighting for. That is why Tristan must be purged from this world once and for all.”
You felt yourself step forward suddenly almost on instinct.
”Don’t hurt him.”
Your voice was pleading, begging, the Lord did not waver in his cold gaze.
”He does not deserve my mercy.”
You drop to your knees before the throne of God.
”No. I know but I still care about him… I…”
”Worship him?”
”No but he doesn’t deserve… Whatever you’re going to do to him-”
Without warning the Lord rises, his hand striking the side of your face sending you flat onto your back. The panther quickly pounces and pins you to the cold stone ground.
”WHAT HE DESERVES!?”
The Lord stands over you bloating out what little light there is like a golden nightmare.
”What he deserves is to burn in hell for denying my existence! What he deserves is an eternity in the lake of fire with all the other putrid sinners who refuse me! What he deserves is to suffer pain never ending until he finally accepts me as the one true God and even then be cast out into the void!”
“He deserves no mercy.”
“He deserves no safe haven.”
“Tristan is the same as every other ineffectual internet hero whose strongest weapon is his swiftness with a keystroke. Quick to point out what is wrong with this world but never moving to effect any real change! Tristan has had decades to enlighten humanity but instead has chosen to hide behind walls and words! How many lives has he saved!? How many has he changed!? And how many did he simply disregard out of hand as not worth his time!?”
“Tristan is the epitome of humanities unwillingness to be better.”
“Passing out judgment like bullets from a clip to whomever crosses his path but never ever willing to step in and make a difference. For years I have listened to him judge his peers as if he has some moral high ground but always end up flat on his face pondering where he went wrong. The answer is simple, he lacks the strength of his convictions and so is nothing more than a paper thin hero of humanity whom I shall burn once and for all!”
The hot breath of the tiger hits you in the face like a warm blanket but you muster the strength to respond.
”Just don’t hurt him.”
The Lord bends down, cradling your face in his icy palm.
”For you my son? I would do anything…”
The Lord rises again as the panther curls into a ball against your hip, the warmth of her buddy making you realize how cold this room is.
”Tristan will survive our encounter. This I promise you.”
The Lord looks down at you, his eyes like an abyss sucking you in.
”But he will never be the same again.”
The Lord once more takes his seat upon his throne, the IWF World Championship now proudly seated on his shoulder.
”This trinket is mine to win. Mine to lose. Tristan is but a character in the Testament of God and he will finally learn his place this Sunday. Pray for him Jayson, for he does not know his sins.”
”I will.”
”Pray for all those who deny me. Before they know it they too will beg for mercy beneath my boot. They wanted me to answer their prayers?”
“I will.”
“They will not live to regret it.”
Saint Michael suddenly appeared from the darkness besides the Lord.
”All Bloody Hail.”
You'll die with fear in your eyes
Praying... begging for a merciful death.
Suffer 'til the last drop of blood.
In your hopeless position, this is the best that I've got.
Suffer, just like you made me do. Just like you made me feel
The bleeding has stopped, but the scars won't heal.
There just ain't enough pain to punish you the way you deserve
...In those ways I need
The hour is late and your time is up
You better run 'cause this day is mine
Well howdy there pardner.