Post by Angel Blake on Sept 20, 2023 22:59:23 GMT
August 29th, 2023
Sacrifice.
Tara Fenix walks cautiously through the backstage area of the Davis Arena. She’s slowly making her way toward the locker room of her beloved, Angel Blake, unsure of the condition she will find him in. She knows how hard he was pushing himself to secure the Heir to the Throne for himself and she is almost positive his loss to Pax Stormcrow will be devastating to him.
She comes upon his door, her hand hesitating slightly as she reaches for the handle. She prepares herself for what she is sure is going to be a trashed locker room, a heart broken lover and pieces of a much deserved ego needing to be put back together.
Tara turns the handle downward as she slowly pushes the door forward. There on the black leather sofa she spots her beloved, his head in his hands, his chest still heaving from the exhausting match or perhaps he was crying? It was hard for her to tell. She crept into the room, not wanting to disturb him but knowing she had to.
”Angel?”
She almost whispered as she closed the door behind her. He didn’t look up, he didn’t respond, his body didn’t even move to imply he acknowledged her presence. Taking careful steps, she walked over. Whatever was going on she didn’t want to incite some misdirected rage like in their deep past. She took a seat beside him, her right arm over his shoulder as she pulled him in close.
”Are you okay?”
She asked as she prepared herself for the shitstorm that was about to be dropped on the world around them. Slowly he pulled his head free from his hands. She held her breath until she could read the look on his grease paint smeared face.
He was smiling.
”Angel?”
She was unnerved. This wasn’t his usual signature terrible grin. This was a smile like she’d only witnessed at home with their family.
”I’m more than okay, Tara…”
He said with an odd sense of relief. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands rested easily on his knees. He looked truly happy. She shook her head a little, not really believing what she’s seeing.
”What’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out.”
She lets out a little laugh to ease her own tension.
”Don’t you see? They’re finally ready…”
An empty throne sits before you.
”I’m supposed to be mad…”
The throne once held by God himself.
”I’m supposed to be wrathful…”
You think it would make quite a lovely seat for yourself.
”I’m supposed to lash out like some comic book villain or poorly written television character. I’m supposed to rebound from my loss to Pax Stormcrow with promises of bloodshed and violence. I’m supposed to continue to pretend I am absolutely infallible when the most generic of men just proved that claim false…”
“I’m supposed to keep being your bad guy…”
“I’m supposed to lie. I’m supposed to ignore the truth. I’m supposed to act like August 29th never happened while also using it as my driving force toward the future. I’m supposed to be blind to reality while dictating you live in my fantasy. I’m supposed to do so many things and it absolutely baffles you that I refuse to do them…”
After all, why not? Why not take a turn in the throne God sat in for ten years? Why shouldn’t it be you? He’s not coming back for it. He’s fallen and by the look of things he will never get up again. So why not you?
”I’m supposed to be more than a man, I’m supposed to be God but at the same time I’m supposed to be completely devoid of a sense of self…”
“Pax Stormcrow beat me…”
“And I’ve suddenly decided I don’t want to be the most feared man in professional wrestling anymore. Which to you? Makes very little sense. You can’t quite connect the dots. You’re left both confused yet curious to see what I do next.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I could want to change?”
You approach slowly. He’s played this sort of game before. Leave the throne empty, see who steps up and then he smites them. You look over your shoulder expecting to see his pale painted face only inches from your own. All you see is darkness. This is your time now.
”Why can a loss only cause emotions of hatred? Why can’t it open my eyes to something flawed inside myself? Why am I not allowed to be both man and God in your eyes? Why am I not allowed to grow, to change, to evolve into a more complete person?”
“I have been a cold and calculating God for well over a decade now…”
“I have ruined lives and ended careers like it was a fun little hobby…”
“Just adding head after head to the mantle…”
“But a loss to Pax that shows me my own failures as a person is a step too far? You bought that I am God. You bought the face paint, the regalia, you gulped down every single word I ever uttered in that cadence only I can deliver…”
“But this is a step too far?”
You approach a little faster now. Your confidence is rising. He truly has fallen. He’s no God.
”Would you prefer I disregard Stephen Terrella?”
“Cast aside Alexeandra Calaway?”
“Treat them like lambs to a slaughter?”
“Call them pretenders to my throne?”
Your hand touches the gold gilded armrest of that fabled throne. It’s yours for the taking now and there is no one standing in your way.
”Should I stand here…”
“In all my greatness…”
“With my special cadence…”
“And tell them all hope is lost?”
“When they know that is undeniably not true. Pax Stormcrow did it. He did the unthinkable. He pinned God. And he didn’t do it as a proverbial equal. He didn’t do it as a monster or a madman or a titan or any of the flashy nicknames we’ve become accustomed to…”
“He did it as a damn good professional wrestler…”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”
“I’ve spent the last decade of my career being the absolute worst human being I could possibly be all while telling you that I’m God. I acted more like a Devil than a God. I tortured, maimed and metaphorically murdered people. And I did it all to bring this roster up to my level. I hoped. I dreamed. I fantasized about the day someone as normal as Pax Stormcrow would step up and put me in my place…”
“And it finally happened…”
“This company is ready…”
“I’m ready…”
“I don’t need to be the cause all of you unite against anymore. I don’t need to be the final villain at the end of the story. I don’t need to be the most despicable person in the world for another second. I can finally be what I’ve always secretly wanted to be…”
You turn, resting both your hands on the edges of the arm rests, preparing yourself to take his seat.
”I can be the man my family wanted me to be…”
“I can let go of the pain…”
“The hate…”
“The suffering I have carried with me for over three decades…”
“I can be something more…”
Slowly you lower yourself down, relishing every single moment of your body resting against the padded surface.
”I can be the champion this company demands…”
“The partner my son deserves…”
“And the opponent my rivals respect…”
“Stephen, Alexandra, if you look at me and all you see is an empty throne ripe for the taking then you haven’t been paying attention…”
You breathe a sigh of relief. The world is yours now.
”Everything I did before now? I did it while hating myself…”
“I inflicted my pain on the world…”
“Imagine what I’m capable of when self hatred isn’t weighing me down?”
“Imagine the opponent…”
“The rival…”
“The force of nature…”
“I will be…”
“Imagine…”
“Or don’t…”
“You’ll find out Sunday…”
“At Legacy I’m not coming for my throne. I’m shattering it and forging a new kingdom…”
You rest easy not seeing the hammer coming down upon your head.
Sacrifice.
{The crowd rallies behind Pax. The referee keeps a close watch, his hand poised for the potential submission, but Angel's determination propels him. As the crowd's hope wavers, Angel's fingers grip the bottom rope. Both wrestlers separate, panting, battered, their bodies bearing scarred. Pax charges once more at Angel with a sudden burst of speed launching himself into the air, executing a breathtaking Springboard Moonsault catching Angel completely off-guard. The arena trembles as the referee dives into position.}
1
2
3!!!
Alison Valance: Here is your winner, PAX STORMCROW!!!!!!!
1
2
3!!!
Alison Valance: Here is your winner, PAX STORMCROW!!!!!!!
Tara Fenix walks cautiously through the backstage area of the Davis Arena. She’s slowly making her way toward the locker room of her beloved, Angel Blake, unsure of the condition she will find him in. She knows how hard he was pushing himself to secure the Heir to the Throne for himself and she is almost positive his loss to Pax Stormcrow will be devastating to him.
She comes upon his door, her hand hesitating slightly as she reaches for the handle. She prepares herself for what she is sure is going to be a trashed locker room, a heart broken lover and pieces of a much deserved ego needing to be put back together.
Tara turns the handle downward as she slowly pushes the door forward. There on the black leather sofa she spots her beloved, his head in his hands, his chest still heaving from the exhausting match or perhaps he was crying? It was hard for her to tell. She crept into the room, not wanting to disturb him but knowing she had to.
”Angel?”
She almost whispered as she closed the door behind her. He didn’t look up, he didn’t respond, his body didn’t even move to imply he acknowledged her presence. Taking careful steps, she walked over. Whatever was going on she didn’t want to incite some misdirected rage like in their deep past. She took a seat beside him, her right arm over his shoulder as she pulled him in close.
”Are you okay?”
She asked as she prepared herself for the shitstorm that was about to be dropped on the world around them. Slowly he pulled his head free from his hands. She held her breath until she could read the look on his grease paint smeared face.
He was smiling.
”Angel?”
She was unnerved. This wasn’t his usual signature terrible grin. This was a smile like she’d only witnessed at home with their family.
”I’m more than okay, Tara…”
He said with an odd sense of relief. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands rested easily on his knees. He looked truly happy. She shook her head a little, not really believing what she’s seeing.
”What’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out.”
She lets out a little laugh to ease her own tension.
”Don’t you see? They’re finally ready…”
And oh, as I fade away
They'll all look at me and say
And they'll say, "Hey, look at him"
"I'll never live that way"
And that's ok, they're just afraid to change
They'll all look at me and say
And they'll say, "Hey, look at him"
"I'll never live that way"
And that's ok, they're just afraid to change
An empty throne sits before you.
”I’m supposed to be mad…”
The throne once held by God himself.
”I’m supposed to be wrathful…”
You think it would make quite a lovely seat for yourself.
”I’m supposed to lash out like some comic book villain or poorly written television character. I’m supposed to rebound from my loss to Pax Stormcrow with promises of bloodshed and violence. I’m supposed to continue to pretend I am absolutely infallible when the most generic of men just proved that claim false…”
“I’m supposed to keep being your bad guy…”
“I’m supposed to lie. I’m supposed to ignore the truth. I’m supposed to act like August 29th never happened while also using it as my driving force toward the future. I’m supposed to be blind to reality while dictating you live in my fantasy. I’m supposed to do so many things and it absolutely baffles you that I refuse to do them…”
After all, why not? Why not take a turn in the throne God sat in for ten years? Why shouldn’t it be you? He’s not coming back for it. He’s fallen and by the look of things he will never get up again. So why not you?
”I’m supposed to be more than a man, I’m supposed to be God but at the same time I’m supposed to be completely devoid of a sense of self…”
“Pax Stormcrow beat me…”
“And I’ve suddenly decided I don’t want to be the most feared man in professional wrestling anymore. Which to you? Makes very little sense. You can’t quite connect the dots. You’re left both confused yet curious to see what I do next.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I could want to change?”
You approach slowly. He’s played this sort of game before. Leave the throne empty, see who steps up and then he smites them. You look over your shoulder expecting to see his pale painted face only inches from your own. All you see is darkness. This is your time now.
”Why can a loss only cause emotions of hatred? Why can’t it open my eyes to something flawed inside myself? Why am I not allowed to be both man and God in your eyes? Why am I not allowed to grow, to change, to evolve into a more complete person?”
“I have been a cold and calculating God for well over a decade now…”
“I have ruined lives and ended careers like it was a fun little hobby…”
“Just adding head after head to the mantle…”
“But a loss to Pax that shows me my own failures as a person is a step too far? You bought that I am God. You bought the face paint, the regalia, you gulped down every single word I ever uttered in that cadence only I can deliver…”
“But this is a step too far?”
You approach a little faster now. Your confidence is rising. He truly has fallen. He’s no God.
”Would you prefer I disregard Stephen Terrella?”
“Cast aside Alexeandra Calaway?”
“Treat them like lambs to a slaughter?”
“Call them pretenders to my throne?”
Your hand touches the gold gilded armrest of that fabled throne. It’s yours for the taking now and there is no one standing in your way.
”Should I stand here…”
“In all my greatness…”
“With my special cadence…”
“And tell them all hope is lost?”
“When they know that is undeniably not true. Pax Stormcrow did it. He did the unthinkable. He pinned God. And he didn’t do it as a proverbial equal. He didn’t do it as a monster or a madman or a titan or any of the flashy nicknames we’ve become accustomed to…”
“He did it as a damn good professional wrestler…”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”
“I’ve spent the last decade of my career being the absolute worst human being I could possibly be all while telling you that I’m God. I acted more like a Devil than a God. I tortured, maimed and metaphorically murdered people. And I did it all to bring this roster up to my level. I hoped. I dreamed. I fantasized about the day someone as normal as Pax Stormcrow would step up and put me in my place…”
“And it finally happened…”
“This company is ready…”
“I’m ready…”
“I don’t need to be the cause all of you unite against anymore. I don’t need to be the final villain at the end of the story. I don’t need to be the most despicable person in the world for another second. I can finally be what I’ve always secretly wanted to be…”
You turn, resting both your hands on the edges of the arm rests, preparing yourself to take his seat.
”I can be the man my family wanted me to be…”
“I can let go of the pain…”
“The hate…”
“The suffering I have carried with me for over three decades…”
“I can be something more…”
Slowly you lower yourself down, relishing every single moment of your body resting against the padded surface.
”I can be the champion this company demands…”
“The partner my son deserves…”
“And the opponent my rivals respect…”
“Stephen, Alexandra, if you look at me and all you see is an empty throne ripe for the taking then you haven’t been paying attention…”
You breathe a sigh of relief. The world is yours now.
”Everything I did before now? I did it while hating myself…”
“I inflicted my pain on the world…”
“Imagine what I’m capable of when self hatred isn’t weighing me down?”
“Imagine the opponent…”
“The rival…”
“The force of nature…”
“I will be…”
“Imagine…”
“Or don’t…”
“You’ll find out Sunday…”
“At Legacy I’m not coming for my throne. I’m shattering it and forging a new kingdom…”
You rest easy not seeing the hammer coming down upon your head.
Well howdy there pardner.