Post by Ghost Spike on Oct 17, 2013 16:38:35 GMT
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. It’s a saying that has been used so much throughout history, and often by people not worthy of said crown in the first place. Me? This isn’t the first time I’ve worn it, it isn’t the first time I’ve stepped up. It isn’t the first time I’ve taken the weight of a federation on my back and carried it as the champion it needs.
It’s becoming quite the trademark.
Thing is, people will always step up to try and feed off of my infamy, they will try their hardest to leech the limelight which is blasting on me and my Empire. It happened before, and they failed miserably, and it’s already begun with the likes of Xavier Cross and Joe Everyman swearing that they will take me down, not realising that I’ve already placed road blocks in their way, sent my knights to do their work and destroy anyone who would stand against us. The landscape of IWF is changing, much like it did back in nCw, though this time there is no Lance Ryan to carry the flag for you peasants, not a soul amongst you could call yourselves his equal.
However someone does stand against me.
From within an enemy made himself known, like a knife to the heart plunged deep inside betrayal was felt. My best friend, the man who I had, would, and did place my life in the hands of turned his back on me. He turned his back on everything we had worked so hard to build, the pawns we had manipulated. The thing is, people see me and they are not surprised at my turn of actions. Yet, somehow I still caught you all off guard?
Please, do explain.
I fooled you all, every last one of you, and now Robert is trying to do the same with his goodie two shoes routine. Play the part Rob, do what you need to do, but you turned your back on me, and a deed such as that will not go unpunished. You turned your back on me, you stood against me, and in public too. Undermining my authority, belittling everything I’ve worked so hard for. You spat in my face Rob, why?
Why are you making me do this to you?
~~~
The rain poured down on the street hard as the night sky seemed to be weeping in the streets of Boston that night. The moon shone brightly on the corpse that lay in the street, tonight a comedian died in the streets of Boston, but only one man seemed to get the joke. The body of Mike Machado, aka The Comedian lay broken in the street having been flung from the building towering above him. The police had written it off as a suicide, but one man knew better, to the masses he was known as Spike Kane, to the scum of the underworld, he was known as Rorschach. As the police make their jokes and ignore the evidence before them, Ror-Spike slips past them, donning his long jacket, his rorschach mask and his fedora hat. He’d look out of place, if they were paying attention.
“But they never do.”
The gruff voice of Ror-Spike responds to the narration as he climbs the stairs to the room that Machado had been thrown from. Not many people knew the identity of The Comedian, but Ror-Spike did from their previous work together. He kept it to himself, Machado had been one of the good guys, one of those who would give his heart and go above and beyond to do his job, and he would always see the funny side of things.
“Like the whole world was one big joke.”
Slipping through unseen Ror-Spike investigated the room, looking at the splinters on the front door, the spilt beer bottle on the floor, the blood stains on the rug next to the coffee table.
“Someone broke in, someone beat the holy hell out of the Comedian. This wasn’t a suicide, this was a homicide. Somebody murdered the comedian.”
The evidence was there, but the police where ignoring it. Perhaps they were pissed at finding out that this Mike Machado was a costumed vigilante after all, after they had been made illegal years before. Most of them had hung up their capes, their masks, but not The Comedian, and not Ror-Spike. They had something in common there, and their particular brand of justice was another bond they shared. They would do what was necessary, even if that resulted in the deaths of some to save others. Seems like somebody had gotten to the Comedian though, and it was someone capable of overpowering him, someone who could beat him to within an inch of his life and throw him out of the window. Ror-Spike moved towards the window taking a look down as the body looked back up to him, almost laughing at the final joke. Kneeling down Ror-Spike picked up a badge that had fallen on the floor, a smiling face with a blood spot on it.
“Evidence”
Ror-Spike picked it up and placed it into his pocket before slinking back out of the room, and down the stairs, avoiding the stares and glares of the police going about their business and making sure not to catch the gaze of any of the many innocent bystanders who were trying to catch a glimpse of the days events, the newspapers would be rife with stories the next day, but Ror-Spike knew one thing for true, they wouldn’t be telling the true or full story. That was for him to find out. As he lowered his head, slipping his hands into his pockets and heading down the alley before him.
“A comedian died in the streets of Boston tonight, and I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s a joke”
~~~
Since we stepped foot in this company we had one thing in mind. Domination. We might not have said it, but we were here to completely dominate and destroy the competition, and we did. Far too easily too. We rode that InFamous train right to the top of this federation, despite them trying their hardest to keep us away from that spot. Telling us that on one hand our past successes would keep us out of the Heir to the Throne tournament, then on another that our past successes meant nothing here in IWF.
We mocked them, took their double standards on the chin, and earned our way to the top. Something the idiots of this federation like to forget, the fact that we earned our spot at the head of this company. Where they had put their faith in losers like Joe Everyman, we had worked under the radar, tirelessly, constantly raising the bar, and burning up every single tag team competition we could in our blast up the ladder.
Even the Juggernauts couldn’t stand up to us, falling immediately.
We were kings, like Gods even. Then came the chance at singles glory, and you were up front with me about your intentions. You told me to my face that you wanted that belt, and that you would fight me if it came to it so that you could get it, and I respected that. I was proud that you had the guts and the courage to be so brazen, and I was happy that you could trust me enough to go toe to toe without any use for underhand tactics…...but you seemed to forget how much it meant to me too, and I took that step that you wanted so badly. Ever since that match ended, it felt like there was something between us.
Like you were angry at me for winning.
Maybe I’m just paranoid and it’s all in my head? Or maybe that’s where it began Rob. Huh? How could you so easily turn your back on someone who had spent so much time and energy helping you become who you are today, who had gone the extra mile and become like a brother to you? A man that you’d leave your daughter with, that you could turn so easily on? Oh, right. Everyone is saying I turned on you.
I guess they don’t feel the betrayal like I do.
I see the little things, how the mind works, how the ego works. I understand that you couldn’t handle taking orders from me, I mean after all it’s been years since Social Distortion….I understand that your ego may have forced you dredge up some memories from your time at my side then, when I had no idea who or what you could become…..but it wasn’t the same this time around Rob. You were my best friend, the one man in this business that I actually trust, the only person who I could really be myself around and not wonder about when the knife was going to come out, or when they would use personal information against me either in that ring, or by going to the management and trying to get me fired.
You were my brother.
Closer than even Brad was, and deservedly so. Yet, when it came to simply following a simple order, you disobeyed. Throwing my title as the leader of the Empire, IWF’s King, in disrepute. For if you don’t follow me, the man who trusts me above all others…..then why would anyone else? You undermined me, and you made me look weak, you made the Empire look weak…..so I had to cut you out. We are only as strong as our weakest link, and you not only proved to be as such, you went out of your way to be so…...you forced my hand Rob, and part of me feels like you did it intentionally. So on one hand, I lose the man who seemingly would eventually have disobeyed my orders anyway, and in the process solidified my reign as the leader of the Empire.
For if I can take you out, my best friend, then what the hell would I do to the rest?
Exactly.
You turned Judas on me Rob, whether you can see it or not is irrelevant. Your actions speak louder than your multitude of words ever could, and everything that we had between us…..whether people accept our friendship or mock it, is beyond me, I couldn’t give ten shades of sh*t. We were the closest of friends, two halves of a whole, and you gave that up….for Xavier Cross.
For the scum of nCw.
The man who left that bitter taste in everyone’s mouth when the curtain was finally drawn.
That is how much our friendship….no, our family, means to you. No matter what words you say Rob, I know the truth behind them. I can see it in your eyes, and the actions you have performed betray you as much as you betrayed me. So you can pull your charade all you like, I won’t fool for it, I won’t accept it….and most of all.
I won’t forgive you.
~~~
“Evidence points to costumed fighters being taken out, I gotta warn Robert before it’s too late.”
Ror-Spike pulls what looks like a gun out of his pocket as he rounds the corner towards the back of the building. The emergency exit is shut tight, no way of getting in that way, but he doesn’t even bother, instead he points the gun upwards towards the roof and fires. A grappling hook flies out of the gun and up to the roof wrapping around the barrier on the edge and like some caped knight Ror-Spike flies up towards the roof, landing on the top with style, dropping the gun as he does so. He quickly peers left and right in case there are some over eager guards about, but there’s nobody around, so he makes for the door to the stairs which will take him down to where Diamond usually resides.
“Seems easy, too easy.”
Turns out, it was. As Ror-Spike opened the door to the stairs the alarm began to ring, rushing down the stairs he was met with two guards, each with night sticks. A smile showed on his constantly moving face, as he charged the guards with the upmost intent of taking them down swiftly. One swung his night stick, but Ror-Spike parried the attack, catching the arm, and snapping it in one fluid motion, causing the guard to scream out loud. The other thought better of his attack, and instead went for a roundhouse kick, which Ror-Spike ducked and countered with a sweep of his own followed by a harsh elbow drop to the face. Rushing down the stairs Ror-Spike saw one more guard standing in front of Diamond’s office, he ran at him full tilt, his jacket bellowing out behind him as he launched himself forward with a front dropkick sending the guard flying into the office, where Rob Diamond stands with his back to the door, arms behind his back clasped looking out the window.
“Really Rorschach, there is no need for such violence.”
Ror-Spike walked into the room dusting his hands, as the guard lay on the ground writhing in pain. The drone of the alarm finally coming to an end. He walks right towards Diamond, and stands on the opposite side of the large wooden desk, as if he had a scheduled meeting.
“Been a while since you called me that, why the guards Ozymandias?”
Ozy-Diamandias turns to face Ror-Spike with a burst of laughter, loosening his hands and cocking his head towards him. He reaches for his decantar on the desk and begins to pour himself some whiskey, offering some to Ror-Spike as he does so.
“Aha! It’s been quite some time since I was referred to as that old friend. It’s usually Mr Diamond, or Roberto nowadays, though sometimes I do miss the old days. The old gang and such. Would you care for some?”
Ror-Spike doesn’t look at Rob as he speaks, instead he looks out the window at the beautiful Boston night sky, now that the rain had cleared up the sky looked quite nice, the moon beaming down on them as it did. Without looking at him, Ror-Spike puts a hand up to decline the whiskey, and flings the blood spotted smiley face badge onto the desk in front of Ozy-Diamondias, who seems a little confused.
“Somebody is offing costumed fighters. The Comedian was hit.”
Ozy-Diamonadias seems incredibly shocked by the news and puts the whiskey down for a second.
“Not Machado!? Who would do such a thing? Do you have any evidence?”
“Not a thing. I just came to warn you Robert. For old times sake. Keep your wits about you, because someone is coming for us all”
Just as his sentence finished Ror-Spike heads towards the windows overlooking the city, the large ones were easy to open, so he did, and leapt out into the night sky, leaving Ozy-Diamondias to himself and his whiskey. He poured himself a glass and held it ever so slightly in the air.
“I guess you finally got the punchline Machado…..”
~~~
We’ve both done a lot in our careers Rob, we’ve both been the underdogs, and thrived off of that billing. People have always underestimated us, and at the end of the day that usually ended uip being their downfall. Thing is, when we stand opposite each other, it’s impossible for us to underestimate each other….so perhaps there is a danger of it going thee other way? Perhaps there is an issue that we could overestimate each other. Play too safely and end up having the most boring Imperial Title match the world has ever seen.
Naaaah.
There is too much at stake in this match, too much pride, too much passion, too much emotion. Not to mention the Imperial Championship itself. You can lie and pretend that you don’t want it Rob, but we all know that you wouldn’t be in this business if you didn’t want it. The grandest prize of them all. You covet it Rob, just as much as you covet Freya, or Alysson, whoever was around at the time. You remember? When you used to hit on my wif…..ex wife? Because I never forgot….I let it slide because I thought you were just being you…..y’know?
An asshole.
Now though, every single little thing that you did back then, and have done in the last few months plagues my mind. Should I have predicted your betrayal? Should I have realised that the trust I placed in you was all for nought? I mean, part of me feels like you played me - but then the other part of me realises that you really are trying to don a white cap, after everything, after all the shit you’ve done. You have got to be kidding me, all the people you’ve hurt, the careers you’ve shortened and ended all in the name of Rob Diamond….or of course, Lord Dominicus…..you turn over your new leaf at my expense?
You think that I’m not worthy of you being at my side, in some pathetic quest for redemption?
I don’t think you quite understand how much it hurt me Rob. How much what I’m going to have to do on Sunday Night hurts me. You were the one true friend I had in this business, even more so than Kyle….and you threw it all away. You threw it away because you are selfish. You want those sheep to cheer for you, to call your name, and scream when you come through that curtain….and that means more to you than our friendship? Having some little kids cheer your name means more to you than this so called family we have?
You make me sick.
I would have done anything for you Rob….all you needed to do was come to me in confidence, tell me what your deal was...and I never would have brought you into the Empire. I may not have even executed this masterplan….instead you plotted and deceived to get yourself an Imperial Title shot….well you’ve got one now motherf*cker…
I’m going to tear you limb from limb.
Well howdy there pardner.