Post by RAM on May 13, 2024 4:04:35 GMT
--------
May 11, 2024 - 8:30 PM
R.A. Marshall had set up his computer studio in the garage of his Watauga home. It was rather dimly lit, and the sound of thunder could be heard outside as a sever storm blew through the Metroplex. Yet it didn't deter him from sitting at his desk, typing in programming code as a YouTube video from KDFW's official page begins playing.
"Hello everybody, I'm Heather Hays. A former star quarterback from Watauga High School has been charged with capital murder for the killing of a 16-year-old female student, then setting her home on fire to cover up the crime. The suspect, 20-year-old former Watauga High School starting quarterback Bobby Figgins, is currently in the Tarrant County Jail without bond after turning himself into police. Fox 4's Shaun Rabb has more..."
RAM sighed as he gazed his eyes upon a framed photograph of Rydia Palmer, the young gal he first met while in after school detention five years ago. Everytime he peered upon that picture, it reminded him of a time in which she tried so hard to help him break free from his traumatic past. Yet every time he viewed that news clip, it angered him over how his sense of love and purpose was taken away from him by a bitter rival.
"It's been nearly two-and-a-half years since that day, since I lost her..."
Trying to hide the fact that he was talking to himself, RAM closed his eyes and hearkened back to that dreadful day in his life.
***
"YOUNG MAN!!"
December 15, 2021.
A home two streets from RAM's hosue was abaze. Marshall, with panice in his eyes, tried to rush past a group of firefighters as they tried to fight the flames.
"SIR, SHE'S GONE! YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!!!"
The foggy image in RAM's mind shows him racing past the stunned group and into the burning structure.
"MY FUCKIN' GIRLFRIEND'S IN THERE!!!"
He felt the intense heat of the fire coursing through Rydia's house as he rushed inside and straight towards Rydia's bedroom. Upon closer discovery, he becomes horrified as the sight of a gunshot wound to her head. As the intensity of the flames grew, a female firefighter grabbed RAM by the back of his shirt and pulled him away.
"YOUNG MAN, SHE'S GONE!! THE WHOLE PLACE IS FIXIN' TO CAVE IN!!"
RAM tried to protest, not caring that the entire house was due to collapse at any moment.
"GOD DAMMIT! YOU JUST CAN'T LEAVE HER HERE!!!"
The firefighter picked a coughing and screaming RAM up and whisked him out of the home just secends before the structure caved in. Marshall was in hysterics at this point as the reality of it all set in.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT...!!!"
The image slowly faded back into the present day, but not before RAM was left sobbing on the cold pavement as cops tried everything they could to comfort him.
"...God dammit...!!!"
***
"...I can't let her go..."
RAM stood up and walked over to a large workbench, where a white curtain was covering a life-sized female mannequin -- much like the ones seen at most department stores. He pulled back the curtain slightly to reveal several different parts and pieces, including small motors and several mini-computers with fast processing and memory speeds. Yet among the mention items, there was a curly blonde wig and a pair of octagonal rims.
"...if only I can get the code just right..."
RAM took a deep breath, resigned to the notion that this project was so far-fetched, he'd be laughed out of his own home if someone were to see what he was attempting to do. Yet in his mind, this was the age of artificial intelligence, and it was no longer possible to dismiss the potential of the technology. As a song began playing from his music playlist, Marshall covered up his project and went back to his computer to continue working on the complex code in front of him.
Remembering the good times he shared with Rydia.
Searching for hope that it would work.
Preparing for a rebirth.
"Walking city streets with worn cobblestones
Listening to people rushing past to rhythms all their own
Life passing me by, not thinking how the years have flown
Until I met you
I won't say that it was fate
I won't say that it was destiny
But if not, what could it be
That drew you towards me?
Could it be chance?
Till the day that we meet again
Where or when I wish I could say
But believe—know that you'll find me
Promises to keep, we won't ever need..."
To be continued...
-------
May 11, 2024 - 8:30 PM
R.A. Marshall had set up his computer studio in the garage of his Watauga home. It was rather dimly lit, and the sound of thunder could be heard outside as a sever storm blew through the Metroplex. Yet it didn't deter him from sitting at his desk, typing in programming code as a YouTube video from KDFW's official page begins playing.
"Hello everybody, I'm Heather Hays. A former star quarterback from Watauga High School has been charged with capital murder for the killing of a 16-year-old female student, then setting her home on fire to cover up the crime. The suspect, 20-year-old former Watauga High School starting quarterback Bobby Figgins, is currently in the Tarrant County Jail without bond after turning himself into police. Fox 4's Shaun Rabb has more..."
RAM sighed as he gazed his eyes upon a framed photograph of Rydia Palmer, the young gal he first met while in after school detention five years ago. Everytime he peered upon that picture, it reminded him of a time in which she tried so hard to help him break free from his traumatic past. Yet every time he viewed that news clip, it angered him over how his sense of love and purpose was taken away from him by a bitter rival.
"It's been nearly two-and-a-half years since that day, since I lost her..."
Trying to hide the fact that he was talking to himself, RAM closed his eyes and hearkened back to that dreadful day in his life.
***
"YOUNG MAN!!"
December 15, 2021.
A home two streets from RAM's hosue was abaze. Marshall, with panice in his eyes, tried to rush past a group of firefighters as they tried to fight the flames.
"SIR, SHE'S GONE! YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!!!"
The foggy image in RAM's mind shows him racing past the stunned group and into the burning structure.
"MY FUCKIN' GIRLFRIEND'S IN THERE!!!"
He felt the intense heat of the fire coursing through Rydia's house as he rushed inside and straight towards Rydia's bedroom. Upon closer discovery, he becomes horrified as the sight of a gunshot wound to her head. As the intensity of the flames grew, a female firefighter grabbed RAM by the back of his shirt and pulled him away.
"YOUNG MAN, SHE'S GONE!! THE WHOLE PLACE IS FIXIN' TO CAVE IN!!"
RAM tried to protest, not caring that the entire house was due to collapse at any moment.
"GOD DAMMIT! YOU JUST CAN'T LEAVE HER HERE!!!"
The firefighter picked a coughing and screaming RAM up and whisked him out of the home just secends before the structure caved in. Marshall was in hysterics at this point as the reality of it all set in.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT...!!!"
The image slowly faded back into the present day, but not before RAM was left sobbing on the cold pavement as cops tried everything they could to comfort him.
"...God dammit...!!!"
***
"...I can't let her go..."
RAM stood up and walked over to a large workbench, where a white curtain was covering a life-sized female mannequin -- much like the ones seen at most department stores. He pulled back the curtain slightly to reveal several different parts and pieces, including small motors and several mini-computers with fast processing and memory speeds. Yet among the mention items, there was a curly blonde wig and a pair of octagonal rims.
"...if only I can get the code just right..."
RAM took a deep breath, resigned to the notion that this project was so far-fetched, he'd be laughed out of his own home if someone were to see what he was attempting to do. Yet in his mind, this was the age of artificial intelligence, and it was no longer possible to dismiss the potential of the technology. As a song began playing from his music playlist, Marshall covered up his project and went back to his computer to continue working on the complex code in front of him.
Remembering the good times he shared with Rydia.
Searching for hope that it would work.
Preparing for a rebirth.
"Walking city streets with worn cobblestones
Listening to people rushing past to rhythms all their own
Life passing me by, not thinking how the years have flown
Until I met you
I won't say that it was fate
I won't say that it was destiny
But if not, what could it be
That drew you towards me?
Could it be chance?
Till the day that we meet again
Where or when I wish I could say
But believe—know that you'll find me
Promises to keep, we won't ever need..."
To be continued...
-------
"Well, well.
If it ain't Logan Sky, wrestling's eternal minor leaguer.
Congratulations, spanky...you've now entered into the big time. You've taken to the stage, looked all around you, and realized one very basic thing. You don't think you're gonna make it in a world that REEKS of neoptism. Aww c'mon now...I bet you're wonderin' why some punk kid like ME would ever say such a thing. It's 'cuz I hearkened back to what Nick Knight once said durin' a retrospective.
That in life, you have two different types of families.
One by blood, the other by profession.
And I find that shit...SICKENING!!!
Every time I walk through these halls and into Imperial rings, I'm reminded of all the brotherhoods and sisterhoods that were created. If your name happens to be Harper or Blake or Fenix, you get to become an overnight success. If you happen to form a partnership with some other guy or gal, you get ALL the benefits! Insulation from the outside world, coddled and protected by the rulin' class. Yet they ALL walk around with their belts and trophies, actin' all holier than thou and better than everybody else.
Even YOU, Logan.
Ain't that a fuckin' shame?!
Now...imagine bein' abused by that rulin' clas. Imagine how it FEELS to take out one of teh greatest works in wrestlin' history, only to be told that he wasn't important enough to impress them. Imagin' bein' LAUGHED at as you try and grind through the motions, only to take a month or a year to clear out the STENCH of their hubris from your workshop. That's ME in a nutshell, bubba! After all these years of grindin' away, you finally get your shot at the big time.
Yet what will you acomplish in your fuckin' life, huh?!
Nothin'. Not a goddamn thing.
Family...partnerships...what do they mean to you? Where would they go in your life?! Think about it, think about the ones you love the most. 'Cuz at the end of the day, I'm gonna leave you just as IWF left me after I retired James Gilmore for keeps.
Broken. Battered.
ALONE."
PROMO COUNT: 352
Well howdy there pardner.