Post by Nick Knight on Mar 9, 2023 9:56:42 GMT
Nick is laying in bed fighting to get to sleep when someone knocks on his door like the damn police. He quickly pulls on a pair of shorts and stomps over ready to scream at whoever was on the side, but when he swings open the door his jaw nearly hits the floor. His wife Cin is standing in the hallway with a small rolly bag at her side.
“What are you doing here,” Nick asks, obviously surprised to see her.
“I thought you could use a little company, and maybe a massage after the past two weeks.”
“I can always use your company, and I’ve never turned down one of your massages.” He steps away from the door. “Come on in.”
“This room isn’t nearly as nice as some of the others you’ve been in,” she says, looking around. “I figured you’d go all out, being in London.”
“This is room that IWF pays for, which is fine for just me. I can move to something nice if you want.”
“Nicky this is perfect. I’m here to be with you, not a fancy hotel room.” She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the room and sat down on the bed. “You haven’t been yourself lately, and we’re all worried about you.”
“Cin, I’m not really sure how to explain this.” He runs his fingers through his thinning hair and sighs. “There are two very different parts of me, the good and the dark. When I’m home it’s easy for the good side of me to be the one that everyone sees. I’m surrounded by the life that I’ve built for myself, and the people that I love. When I’m out on the road it gets really easy for the darkness to start to seep out, and I’m sorry that you’re seeing it.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “We all have a little bit of darkness inside of us. If it wasn’t for the pills and my therapist I would be a whole different person, if I’d even be alive.”
“My darkness is more than just depression, Cin. My darkness is a violent monster that gets off on violence. It makes me want to hurt people and enjoy every second of it when I do.”
“Then it’s probably a good thing you work in a business that pays you to be violent.”
“I know, but I’m a little bit scared this time.” A tears well up in his eyes. “I’m not sure I can keep the monster under any kind of control when I’m in the ring with Angel.”
“So don’t.”
“He’s got a wife and kids, Cin.”
“Fuck him! He tried to end your career, and he doesn’t deserve a damn bit of sympathy. You go out and try to destroy him, and I’ll be in the crowd cheering you on.”
“I love you,” he says, with a goofy grin on his face.
“I love you, too. Now take me to bed, or lose me forever.”
____________________________________________________________________________
Nick Knight sits in the corner booth of a small pub neat the O2 Arena, eating a basket of fish and chips. It is between the lunch rush and the businessmen getting off work and coming in for a pint before heading home for the night. Picking up his phone he turns on the camera to film before propping it up and beginning to speak.
The rules of a standard professional wrestling match was never going to hold us, Angel. The hatred that we feel for one another can never possibly be contained by rules. This thing between us has grown to be more than a rivalry between two men that respect each other. No, it has has turned into a blood feud that will only end when of us is out of IWF once and for all.
Two weeks ago you thought you were successful in taking me out when you attacked my knee, but you failed. Last week you said you planned on getting the job done, but instead I pulled that piece of steel out of my knee brace and tried to cave in your skull with it. I took what you thought was my weakness and turned it into my strength, and it was finally enough to beat you.
A smile comes onto the face of “The Hollywood Butcher.”
Now it has been decided that our third match is going to be Extreme Rules. I want you to look past your hate, Angel, and ask yourself if that is really a place that you want to go with me? When you were main eventing arenas as the so-called God of Professional Wrestling, I was traveling the world as the Lord of the Death Matches. Since coming to IWF there isn’t a man I haven’t beaten in an Extreme Rules match. I even left Wraith, one of the few men to ever push you, laying in the middle of the ring burned and torn to fucking shreds back at Holiday Havoc,
So what makes you think you’ve got the balls to do what no one else has been able to, Angel? Look at the men that I have left broken in my wake and tell me that you truly think that it’s a good idea to face me in an Extreme Rules match. How long did it take Wraith to recover enough to get back in the ring? That crazy fucker Abraxes thought it was a good idea and we haven’t seen him in over a year. No matter what you think, you are not built to go to the places that I am willing to go in this match.
You choose to surround yourself in darkness like it's some sort of armor, but on the inside you're about as wholesome as chocolate chip cookies. You kinda remind me of the kids I knew growing up that would carve Slayer into their arms with razor blades just because they thought it made them edgy and cool, but when they went home they were listening to Limp Bizkit. You’re a Hot Topic poser from your black clothes, to your creepy house, and all the way to the way that you wrestle.
Look at me and you see a dad from the suburbs driving his kids to school. I’ve got a little bit of pudge on me, and my hair is definitely getting thinner. I dress in shorts and t-shirts most of the time, because I value comfort over anything else. Deep down inside though, you’ll find real darkness. Hurting people is way more than a way to make money for me, it is something that I like to do. If it wasn’t for professional wrestling I’d still be locked up in some rat infested mental institution just waiting to die. The difference between us, Angel, is that I do this shit to live, which means I’m willing to die to keep it.
The smile leaves Knight’s face and is replaced by a look of shear hatred.
That championship belt in a pretty little bauble that I wouldn’t mind having around my waist, but now the most import thing to me is your pain. I want to hear the beautiful song of your screams as I use barbed wire to tear into your flesh. There is nothing I want to watch more than the little dance that you will do when I slam you into a pile of a thousand thumbtacks. Angel you might not be the true god of professional wrestling, but I want to be baptized in your blood. I want to stand over your body and administer the last rites like some kind of sick and twisted fucking priest.
You said that you want to take my career away from me, Angel; well I want to take away your life. I want to look over and see your wife crying as they take you out of the arena in a body bag. That moment when I know that the darkness inside of me destroyed your fake goth bullshit will be the most cathartic of my entire existence.
Nick begins to laugh like a madman.
Don’t worry my friend, I’ll be sure to put flowers on your grave.
The scene fades to black
Well howdy there pardner.