Post by Angel Blake on Mar 4, 2022 16:06:38 GMT
”I have returned…”
Your eyes flutter open to nothingness. A terrible darkness envelops you. You rub at your eye lids hoping that something besides the inky darkness would make itself known to you. But there is nothing.
”Wraith…”
A light ignites in the distance. At first it’s simply the flame of a match making itself known to you but all too quickly it becomes a great blinding flame. The light overtakes the darkness like a red stain on a white cloth.
”Sabin…”
“I knew what he thought he needed…”
“What his heart desired most…”
“To surpass me…”
“I had hoped defeating me would ease his mind…”
“I hoped he would finally grow up…”
“That he would let go of the past…”
“But he has not…”
“And now?”
“Now he thinks he nearly killed me…”
“But…”
“I simply allowed him to survive…”
Finally your eyes begin to adjust to the light. You peer down a long hallway made of motor and shaped stone toward an open chamber. There, someone sits beckoning you to move forward. The chill that runs up and down your spine says you already know who it is. You’d run away if you could but you have to move toward them.
”Now I wonder if I made a mistake…”
“Did I go easy on him?”
“Did I not punish him enough?”
“Should I have tried harder to cripple him?”
“Tara says I should leave it be…”
“”She says he will come around eventually…”
“But I hear the ego…”
“The bravado…”
“The bluster…”
“He continues to act like a child…”
“Flaunting his victory like a passing grade in pre school…”
“Showing off his title like a long sought after toy…”
“Childish…”
“One win means nothing…”
“Not when weighed against a career…”
“A career of bloodshed…”
“And tears…”
“A career that cannot be measured in one company…”
“A career that cannot be measured by one title reign…”
“A career so long…”
“So great…”
“So triumphant…”
“You could only attribute it to God Himself…”
You push yourself up, noticing for the first time the years of dust beneath your fingers. Each grain kicking with your every moment. The specks float up your nostrils causing you a moment's pause as you cough it back out. Once you read your feet you move toward the epicenter of the chamber as the visage in the middle becomes ever more visible. A terrible grin begins to make itself known.
“Sabin…”
“I fought you like a father…”
“I hoped for a better outcome…”
“I wanted our family to be made whole again…”
“All I wanted…”
“Was to end the night in an embrace…”
“Even if I was in a body bag…”
“But I was wrong…”
“I was wrong to put aside my wants…”
“My needs…”
“My desires…”
“I was wrong to think you were ready…”
“It is more than clear to me now…”
“Dean Harper is my heir apparent…”
“You are just the pretender to my throne…”
“So I have returned…”
You stumble into the open chamber and finally everything becomes visible. At the center of the room is the man who calls himself God, Angel Blake with that pale painted face and terrible grin that has terrorized professional wrestling for decades. He is seated upon a throne made in the image of all his greatest enemies. To his right is Dean Harper, his own face partially painted and pale with a wry smirk. To his left is the great black panther, Shelly..
”I have returned…”
“Not to be Sabin’s enemy…”
“Not to teach Sabin a lesson…”
“Not to be the father we both wished I would have been…”
“I have returned to reclaim my place at the top of the IWF!”
“I have entered the Roulette…”
“To WIN the Roulette…”
“So I may face my forsaken son…”
“Sabin…”
“To take that which is by all rights MINE!”
“There will be no half measures this time…”
“There will be no emotion in my actions…”
“I will take what is mine…”
“If you are lucky…”
“You will survive…”
Your Lord God sits forward ever so slightly, his terrible grin becoming something more akin to a sneer as you feel yourself shrink back.
”I tried to do this your mother’s way…”
“I tried to reason with you father to son…”
“I tried…”
“Very hard…”
“To not bury you beneath my boot heel…”
“This time?”
“You are not my son…”
“You are not even my enemy…”
“You simply stand between me…”
“And what is mine…”
“You are an opponent who will be dealt with…”
“This time?”
“There will be no one to stop us…”
“The IWF World Championship…”
“BELONGS TO ME!”
“Not you…”
“Or anyone else…”
“This company belongs to me…”
“It always has…”
“It always will…”
“This time, Sabin…”
“Wraith…”
“You will feel the WRATH OF GOD!”
“This time you WILL TREMBLE!”
“This time you do not walk away…”
“I will shatter your insufferable ego…”
“And show you once and for all…”
“Why they call me GOD.”
"At Night of the Immortals..."
"I take what is mine..."
"And end your façade..."
"To those who wish to stop me at High Stakes?"
"You are but a prelude to my path back to glory..."
"A challenge to overcome..."
"Witnesses to my RISE!"
The Lord stands from his throne as Dean and the panther inch closer. You feel your whole body tremble as they encircle you. The Lord places his hand upon your forehead and then…
The void.
Your eyes flutter open to nothingness. A terrible darkness envelops you. You rub at your eye lids hoping that something besides the inky darkness would make itself known to you. But there is nothing.
”Wraith…”
A light ignites in the distance. At first it’s simply the flame of a match making itself known to you but all too quickly it becomes a great blinding flame. The light overtakes the darkness like a red stain on a white cloth.
”Sabin…”
“I knew what he thought he needed…”
“What his heart desired most…”
“To surpass me…”
“I had hoped defeating me would ease his mind…”
“I hoped he would finally grow up…”
“That he would let go of the past…”
“But he has not…”
“And now?”
“Now he thinks he nearly killed me…”
“But…”
“I simply allowed him to survive…”
Finally your eyes begin to adjust to the light. You peer down a long hallway made of motor and shaped stone toward an open chamber. There, someone sits beckoning you to move forward. The chill that runs up and down your spine says you already know who it is. You’d run away if you could but you have to move toward them.
”Now I wonder if I made a mistake…”
“Did I go easy on him?”
“Did I not punish him enough?”
“Should I have tried harder to cripple him?”
“Tara says I should leave it be…”
“”She says he will come around eventually…”
“But I hear the ego…”
“The bravado…”
“The bluster…”
“He continues to act like a child…”
“Flaunting his victory like a passing grade in pre school…”
“Showing off his title like a long sought after toy…”
“Childish…”
“One win means nothing…”
“Not when weighed against a career…”
“A career of bloodshed…”
“And tears…”
“A career that cannot be measured in one company…”
“A career that cannot be measured by one title reign…”
“A career so long…”
“So great…”
“So triumphant…”
“You could only attribute it to God Himself…”
You push yourself up, noticing for the first time the years of dust beneath your fingers. Each grain kicking with your every moment. The specks float up your nostrils causing you a moment's pause as you cough it back out. Once you read your feet you move toward the epicenter of the chamber as the visage in the middle becomes ever more visible. A terrible grin begins to make itself known.
“Sabin…”
“I fought you like a father…”
“I hoped for a better outcome…”
“I wanted our family to be made whole again…”
“All I wanted…”
“Was to end the night in an embrace…”
“Even if I was in a body bag…”
“But I was wrong…”
“I was wrong to put aside my wants…”
“My needs…”
“My desires…”
“I was wrong to think you were ready…”
“It is more than clear to me now…”
“Dean Harper is my heir apparent…”
“You are just the pretender to my throne…”
“So I have returned…”
You stumble into the open chamber and finally everything becomes visible. At the center of the room is the man who calls himself God, Angel Blake with that pale painted face and terrible grin that has terrorized professional wrestling for decades. He is seated upon a throne made in the image of all his greatest enemies. To his right is Dean Harper, his own face partially painted and pale with a wry smirk. To his left is the great black panther, Shelly..
”I have returned…”
“Not to be Sabin’s enemy…”
“Not to teach Sabin a lesson…”
“Not to be the father we both wished I would have been…”
“I have returned to reclaim my place at the top of the IWF!”
“I have entered the Roulette…”
“To WIN the Roulette…”
“So I may face my forsaken son…”
“Sabin…”
“To take that which is by all rights MINE!”
“There will be no half measures this time…”
“There will be no emotion in my actions…”
“I will take what is mine…”
“If you are lucky…”
“You will survive…”
Your Lord God sits forward ever so slightly, his terrible grin becoming something more akin to a sneer as you feel yourself shrink back.
”I tried to do this your mother’s way…”
“I tried to reason with you father to son…”
“I tried…”
“Very hard…”
“To not bury you beneath my boot heel…”
“This time?”
“You are not my son…”
“You are not even my enemy…”
“You simply stand between me…”
“And what is mine…”
“You are an opponent who will be dealt with…”
“This time?”
“There will be no one to stop us…”
“The IWF World Championship…”
“BELONGS TO ME!”
“Not you…”
“Or anyone else…”
“This company belongs to me…”
“It always has…”
“It always will…”
“This time, Sabin…”
“Wraith…”
“You will feel the WRATH OF GOD!”
“This time you WILL TREMBLE!”
“This time you do not walk away…”
“I will shatter your insufferable ego…”
“And show you once and for all…”
“Why they call me GOD.”
"At Night of the Immortals..."
"I take what is mine..."
"And end your façade..."
"To those who wish to stop me at High Stakes?"
"You are but a prelude to my path back to glory..."
"A challenge to overcome..."
"Witnesses to my RISE!"
The Lord stands from his throne as Dean and the panther inch closer. You feel your whole body tremble as they encircle you. The Lord places his hand upon your forehead and then…
The void.
Well howdy there pardner.