Post by Cyrus Daniels on Oct 10, 2013 18:30:59 GMT
Killian Creed.
I hope ya will forgive me mate, but I really don't know all that much about ya. But what I do know about ya, I like. Perhaps the most important thing I know about ya is that ya took Bertie Verona ta his limits last week n' gave him so much ta handle that ya forced his hand ta "cheat" ya outta a victory in the eyes of many. I respect that. I know all about what it takes ta push the big names ta limits they don't expect ya too - just arsk Spike Kane, Xander Famularo and Xavier Cross. Only arsk them though mate, if ya can stand ta hear them explain the technicalities of why they're still so much better than me.
I really don't have the patience for any of that.
But I know this ain't about who we've beaten or almost beaten, this is about ya ' me. One bloke ta another. One crim ta another. Ya know all about my side of life so perhaps ya have me at a distinct disadvantage in some respects, 'cause ta be perfectly honest with ya mate, I am still learnin' about your side of life - ya are not the first veteran the suits have put me against, n' ya won't be the larst, even if ya are a veteran who has been outta practice for the larst fifteen yeers.
A rusty veteran is still a veteran, right, mate?
Now I personally have never had a problem with Bertie, but I can understand why ya would. Bertie is merely a symptom of a much deeper problem with this company, a problem named Simon De Montford, so the way I see it, ya have two choices from here Killian, ya can continue your little crusade against Bertie for the annoyin' little weed that he is, or ya can attack that weed at its root n' go straight for the jugular. I won't tell ya a side ta pick, that ain't my job or my concern, I will simply say that I know which way a man with "Kill" in his name should go.
See I look at ya Killian 'n for the first time I see the sorta bloke I could really get along with, n not in the way that I got along with the Crocodile Hunter either...we've both slapped the piss outta him 'n now he's laid up in a hospital bed, 'n I dunno about ya mate but on some level it really irks me that neither of us were responsible for that - or maybe ya were, in which case ya really are a decent bloke, ain't ya? I'm sure with our records, the cops will be askin' us both eventually, 'n when ya end up denyin' any involvement or knowledge of what happened ta Stephen eleven days ago, personally Killian, I hope ya are lyin' your arse off.
Cyrus grins.
See not many blokes have it in them ta surprise me Killian, but ya are different, ya are much more like me than maybe even ya wanna admit. We both obviously don't have a problem declarin' our intentions or hurtin' people for the sheer pleasure of it, that is why this Monday at Sacrifice may well be the most enjoyable night of my life so far, at least the most enjoyable night that doesn't involve havin' Nicole Kingsley chained ta my bed beggin' ta be whipped 'n riden harder 'n farster than any race horse.
Cyrus laughs.
If I had any choice at all in the matter, I would wanna face the Killian Creed who was so pissed off at Davey Ortega and Gjenrei that he promised ta hurt them, ta destroy them 'n went on ta describe the euphoria he would feel in doin' so, rather than the Killian Creed who was so full of shit 'n cliche about facin' a bigger man like ya were when ya were dealin' with the Crocodile Hunter. It may have been enough for ya ta beat him, but I am an entirely different beast, even if deep down ya still believe me ta have the huge cultural handicap of bein' a born 'n bred Ozzy. Many men have made the mistake of underestimatin' me n' thinkin' that I really am no better than the useless dingleberry I carried around for over a year in this business, 'n knew even longer while I was doin' my time in the big house.
Don't disappoint me by makin' that same mistake, Killian.
Unless ya wanna pay a heavy price for your stupidity.
So now that I've told ya which Killian Creed I wanna face, the question remains of how exactly do I get him? Is it as simple as arskin' for it, or is it a matter of time, patience 'n finding the right trigger, 'cause I'll be honest mate, I've never been that good at the former but I am an absolute marster of the latter. Feel free not ta give me an arnswer right away though mate, part of the fun for me has always been findin' out exactly what makes a bloke kill...
Or in your case, Killian.
I have a feelin' I already know the arnswer.
Doctor Nicole Kingsley sat in the cold sterile room at Penn Presbyteran Medical Center, visually monitoring her elder brother Stephen's vitals, though she knew there was nothing she could do for him, it was an environment that was familiar to her even if the situation wasn't. She couldn't resist ocassionally getting up and checking the various drips and tubes that kept her brother alive, even if he was still unconscious.
Nicole: It really is amazing isn't it Stephen? Here I am, a fully qualified 'n licensed physician n' I am still so powerless here ta help ya, because this ain't my job. My job is with IWF and soon, very soon, they will take me away from here, away from ya even when I don't really want to go. I really don't. Do you want me to go Stephen, is that what ya want?
Nicole sighs.
Nicole: None of this is supposed ta be happening. None of this is supposed ta be my job. It is your job ta be my overly protective big brother. My job is supposed ta be as your annoying little sister whose in love with someone you and daddy don't approve of, that's what family is supposed ta be Stephen, I realise that now, I realise that I'm probably too late ta say sorry, but I still am. So wake up n' get back ta doing your job so I can carry on doin' mine. Please. Wake up Stephen...wake up.
Nicole's voice falters under the weight of her emotion and drops to a whisper.
Nicole: Please wake up. Wake up n' tell me how much you hate Cyrus Daniels. Wake up n' tell the police that he had nothin' ta do with this. Wake up 'n tell them ta leave us alone, tell them ta stop wastin' our time n' go find the real bad guys who did this ta ya. Cyrus would never do this ta ya, we both know that, don't we? What he does for the IWF cameras ain't real, it's all an act, its all make believe ta sell a few tickets 'n entertain a few thousand people in the arenas, its just a job, it ain't who he really is. I know who he really is n' I love him for it...even if ya can't understand it Stephen. I don't need ya ta understand, I need ya ta wake up...
Nicole reaches out and takes her brother's limp hand in between both of hers.
Nicole: Wake up n' tell me I'm an idiot for waitin' so long before finally pluckin' up the courage ta come see ya. Wake up n' tell me somethin'. Wake up n' tell me anythin'. Tell me a story Stephen, ya always were good at those, even if I never listened, I'm listenin' now...better late then never, ey?
Nicole lets out a nervous giggle.
Nicole: Please tell me some of this is gettin' through ta ya Stephen. Really, I need ta know ya can still hear me brother, n' if ya can, I need ya ta know that I still love ya, that even though I'm with Cy now, it won't ever stop me from bein' Baby Nicky, your little sis. In medical school they told me so many stories of how ya should keep talkin' to those in a coma 'cause ya never know what they might register n' what may trigger a response from them. Squeeze my hand if ya can hear me Stephen...
Nicole waited for a moment, she felt nothing from him. Still the same cold, limp, lifeless hand in between the warmth of hers, and she wept in slow, gentle, rolling, silent streams of tears.
Nicole: Why won't ya arnswer me? Ya never gave me any arnswers. Ya never told me why ya felt ya had ta take the fall for Bruce, n' I never forgave ya for it. I forgive ya for it now Stephen. None of that matters, the only thing that matters is that ya come back ta me Stephen. Come back ta me. Come back home. I need ya. I miss ya. I love ya. I'm sorry that this is what it has taken for me ta realise I was wrong, but I promise if ya come back, I'll make it up ta ya...
There was still no response from Stephen Kingsley so Nicole drowned alone in her regret, uncertain that she'd ever find the trigger to bring her brother back from his comatose state even if she spent the rest of her life wading through her tears of regret.
I hope ya will forgive me mate, but I really don't know all that much about ya. But what I do know about ya, I like. Perhaps the most important thing I know about ya is that ya took Bertie Verona ta his limits last week n' gave him so much ta handle that ya forced his hand ta "cheat" ya outta a victory in the eyes of many. I respect that. I know all about what it takes ta push the big names ta limits they don't expect ya too - just arsk Spike Kane, Xander Famularo and Xavier Cross. Only arsk them though mate, if ya can stand ta hear them explain the technicalities of why they're still so much better than me.
I really don't have the patience for any of that.
But I know this ain't about who we've beaten or almost beaten, this is about ya ' me. One bloke ta another. One crim ta another. Ya know all about my side of life so perhaps ya have me at a distinct disadvantage in some respects, 'cause ta be perfectly honest with ya mate, I am still learnin' about your side of life - ya are not the first veteran the suits have put me against, n' ya won't be the larst, even if ya are a veteran who has been outta practice for the larst fifteen yeers.
A rusty veteran is still a veteran, right, mate?
Now I personally have never had a problem with Bertie, but I can understand why ya would. Bertie is merely a symptom of a much deeper problem with this company, a problem named Simon De Montford, so the way I see it, ya have two choices from here Killian, ya can continue your little crusade against Bertie for the annoyin' little weed that he is, or ya can attack that weed at its root n' go straight for the jugular. I won't tell ya a side ta pick, that ain't my job or my concern, I will simply say that I know which way a man with "Kill" in his name should go.
See I look at ya Killian 'n for the first time I see the sorta bloke I could really get along with, n not in the way that I got along with the Crocodile Hunter either...we've both slapped the piss outta him 'n now he's laid up in a hospital bed, 'n I dunno about ya mate but on some level it really irks me that neither of us were responsible for that - or maybe ya were, in which case ya really are a decent bloke, ain't ya? I'm sure with our records, the cops will be askin' us both eventually, 'n when ya end up denyin' any involvement or knowledge of what happened ta Stephen eleven days ago, personally Killian, I hope ya are lyin' your arse off.
Cyrus grins.
See not many blokes have it in them ta surprise me Killian, but ya are different, ya are much more like me than maybe even ya wanna admit. We both obviously don't have a problem declarin' our intentions or hurtin' people for the sheer pleasure of it, that is why this Monday at Sacrifice may well be the most enjoyable night of my life so far, at least the most enjoyable night that doesn't involve havin' Nicole Kingsley chained ta my bed beggin' ta be whipped 'n riden harder 'n farster than any race horse.
Cyrus laughs.
If I had any choice at all in the matter, I would wanna face the Killian Creed who was so pissed off at Davey Ortega and Gjenrei that he promised ta hurt them, ta destroy them 'n went on ta describe the euphoria he would feel in doin' so, rather than the Killian Creed who was so full of shit 'n cliche about facin' a bigger man like ya were when ya were dealin' with the Crocodile Hunter. It may have been enough for ya ta beat him, but I am an entirely different beast, even if deep down ya still believe me ta have the huge cultural handicap of bein' a born 'n bred Ozzy. Many men have made the mistake of underestimatin' me n' thinkin' that I really am no better than the useless dingleberry I carried around for over a year in this business, 'n knew even longer while I was doin' my time in the big house.
Don't disappoint me by makin' that same mistake, Killian.
Unless ya wanna pay a heavy price for your stupidity.
So now that I've told ya which Killian Creed I wanna face, the question remains of how exactly do I get him? Is it as simple as arskin' for it, or is it a matter of time, patience 'n finding the right trigger, 'cause I'll be honest mate, I've never been that good at the former but I am an absolute marster of the latter. Feel free not ta give me an arnswer right away though mate, part of the fun for me has always been findin' out exactly what makes a bloke kill...
Or in your case, Killian.
I have a feelin' I already know the arnswer.
Doctor Nicole Kingsley sat in the cold sterile room at Penn Presbyteran Medical Center, visually monitoring her elder brother Stephen's vitals, though she knew there was nothing she could do for him, it was an environment that was familiar to her even if the situation wasn't. She couldn't resist ocassionally getting up and checking the various drips and tubes that kept her brother alive, even if he was still unconscious.
Nicole: It really is amazing isn't it Stephen? Here I am, a fully qualified 'n licensed physician n' I am still so powerless here ta help ya, because this ain't my job. My job is with IWF and soon, very soon, they will take me away from here, away from ya even when I don't really want to go. I really don't. Do you want me to go Stephen, is that what ya want?
Nicole sighs.
Nicole: None of this is supposed ta be happening. None of this is supposed ta be my job. It is your job ta be my overly protective big brother. My job is supposed ta be as your annoying little sister whose in love with someone you and daddy don't approve of, that's what family is supposed ta be Stephen, I realise that now, I realise that I'm probably too late ta say sorry, but I still am. So wake up n' get back ta doing your job so I can carry on doin' mine. Please. Wake up Stephen...wake up.
Nicole's voice falters under the weight of her emotion and drops to a whisper.
Nicole: Please wake up. Wake up n' tell me how much you hate Cyrus Daniels. Wake up n' tell the police that he had nothin' ta do with this. Wake up 'n tell them ta leave us alone, tell them ta stop wastin' our time n' go find the real bad guys who did this ta ya. Cyrus would never do this ta ya, we both know that, don't we? What he does for the IWF cameras ain't real, it's all an act, its all make believe ta sell a few tickets 'n entertain a few thousand people in the arenas, its just a job, it ain't who he really is. I know who he really is n' I love him for it...even if ya can't understand it Stephen. I don't need ya ta understand, I need ya ta wake up...
Nicole reaches out and takes her brother's limp hand in between both of hers.
Nicole: Wake up n' tell me I'm an idiot for waitin' so long before finally pluckin' up the courage ta come see ya. Wake up n' tell me somethin'. Wake up n' tell me anythin'. Tell me a story Stephen, ya always were good at those, even if I never listened, I'm listenin' now...better late then never, ey?
Nicole lets out a nervous giggle.
Nicole: Please tell me some of this is gettin' through ta ya Stephen. Really, I need ta know ya can still hear me brother, n' if ya can, I need ya ta know that I still love ya, that even though I'm with Cy now, it won't ever stop me from bein' Baby Nicky, your little sis. In medical school they told me so many stories of how ya should keep talkin' to those in a coma 'cause ya never know what they might register n' what may trigger a response from them. Squeeze my hand if ya can hear me Stephen...
Nicole waited for a moment, she felt nothing from him. Still the same cold, limp, lifeless hand in between the warmth of hers, and she wept in slow, gentle, rolling, silent streams of tears.
Nicole: Why won't ya arnswer me? Ya never gave me any arnswers. Ya never told me why ya felt ya had ta take the fall for Bruce, n' I never forgave ya for it. I forgive ya for it now Stephen. None of that matters, the only thing that matters is that ya come back ta me Stephen. Come back ta me. Come back home. I need ya. I miss ya. I love ya. I'm sorry that this is what it has taken for me ta realise I was wrong, but I promise if ya come back, I'll make it up ta ya...
There was still no response from Stephen Kingsley so Nicole drowned alone in her regret, uncertain that she'd ever find the trigger to bring her brother back from his comatose state even if she spent the rest of her life wading through her tears of regret.
Well howdy there pardner.