Post by Deathtrain on Jun 15, 2013 15:07:05 GMT
What the hell is going on?
Everything is covered in a thick blanket of darkness. Deathtrain tries to let his eyes adjust, but it is futile. Not even the lights of heaven could pierce through this wall of cimmerian shade. He seems to be on his knees, resting on the ground, but something else is amiss. The floor feels as if it is on fire, almost scalding to the touch, yet cool and relaxing at the same time. Confused, Deathtrain begins reaching around, trying to find something to grab onto so he can stand up, but there is nothing. All he feels is is the fiery/cold dirt beneath him. Something begins to stir within the darkness.
Who's there? Hello?
A deep, ominous laughter fills the darkness, echoing off the surrounding walls, almost as if they are inside some sort of cave. The ground shakes as the being from within the darkness speaks.
Hello, Deathtrain....
The voice falls on Deathtrain's ears, slipping into the deepest corners of his soul. He knows this voice all too well, yet he can't seem to remember from where here recognizes it.
Who is that? What do you want?
The fact that you can't even remember me is exactly why I've brought you here, Deathtrain. You've forgotten about your past, forgotten everything that you are. I have brought you here to rectify that, to right the wrongs that you have committed thus far.
Confused now more than ever, Deathtrain tries to stand up, but he is pushed back down by two strong hands, one on each shoulder. He grunts as he is forced back down into the dirt.
What the hell are you talking about?
Deathtrain....I've noticed that you recently joined the Imperial Wrestling Federation. That's good...very good. It's about time you returned to your roots and got back to doing what you do best. Hurting people. Destroying their lives. Making each and every one of them suffer for every transgression they have ever committed. Once again, though, it seems that you need my help.
Listen. I don't know who the f@#k you are, but I don't need your god damn help! Let me go!
That's where you're wrong, Deathtrain. Oh so very wrong. You need my help now more than ever. I've watched you in your first few matches with the IWF, watched as you floundered around, letting yourself get beaten by some half wit jap who thinks he's some kind of flying squirrel or something. Although, that kick to the groin was rather funny, I'll admit. Poor Mikey. But, therein lies the problem. This isn't some kind of comedic game, Deathtrain. It is your job to unleash hell, to cause pain and to torment all those who stand before you in that ring. In fact, it is the demonic duty you were sworn to many years ago, and you have failed eternally in keeping up your end of the bargain.
Suddenly, the reality of this entire sordid situation begins to sink in. Deathtrain realizes what's going on.
You? You're the darkness....
Not just any darkness, DT old buddy. I am the midnight inside of you, that dark hole rotting deep inside your heart. I am the beast you used to call upon long ago, the crimson fiend whose thirst for blood was eternal. So many times we fought those battles together. How much blood did we shed? How much havoc was wrought between those ropes? We were the living personification of everyone's worst nightmares, yet all I see before me is a dreamy cloud of shit, a pathetic excuse of a man no longer worthy of the title Walking Nightmare. That all changes now. I will not let your legacy be destroyed before it has even started, and I refuse to just sit back and watch you fade away into obscurity.
All of the beings words are swirling around inside Deathtrain's head, jumbled together in a twisted cocktail of truth, lies and misery.
You still don't know who I am? Fine then...Arise warrior of darkness. Rise to your feet and stand face to face with your perdition!
Deathtrain is pulled to his feet, and the darkness is thrown away as one of the men on his side removes the hood that had been placed over his head. They continue to hold his arms as a blinding light fills his eyes, and his head feels like it's beginning to swell. Finally, his eyes adjust clearly enough to see the being standing in front of him. Deathtrain gasps as he realizes that the person in front of him....is himself!
What the hell?!!
That's right, Deathtrain. I am you, or, at least, everything you used to be. You've failed to prove yourself worthy of the instruments of subversion you've been given, failed to unleash your true potential and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit idly and watch you destroy yourself.
The demented doppelganger walks up to Deathtrain and leans in, bringing their faces within an inch of each other. A cruel, twisted smile spreads across his lips as he places his hand over Deathtrain's heart.
I'm taking over from here you washed up son of a bitch...
He reaches into Deathtrain's chest and wraps his massive hand around his heart. Blood and bones erupt from Deathtrain's chest cavity as his heart is ripped from his body. The demon looks at the organ in his hand, oozing with blood and still beating. He smiles at Deathtrain before bringing the heart to his mouth and taking a bite out of it. Deathtrain falls to the floor, crumbling away as the evil duplicate's sinister laughter echoes inside his slowly withering mind.....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Heir to the Throne..A fitting title for this Sunday's battle royal. You see, a kingdom would be nothing if it was ruled by an empty throne. Chaos would reign on high, and calamity would tear the world asunder. Every throne needs its king, and, this Sunday, the once and future king shall begin his ascension to the seat of power, an act that will forever be remembered as the genesis of his legacy. That king is none other than myself, the former King of Nightmares, Deathtrain.
Years ago, the King of Nightmares was a moniker that was not just given to me, but was EARNED through my actions inside And outside of the ring. I was the living embodiment of everyone's worst fears, a heartless beast of trepidation who sought the destruction and subjugation of the masses who wished to see me removed from my rightful place above them. Time and time again I was faced with opposition from the rabble, each one thinking they had the strength and courage to withstand the onslaught of physical and mental ruination that was laid out before them. But, all of their efforts were wasted for there was none among them who could stand and face me within my kingdom and each and every last one of them fell prey to the madness and despair within their own hearts.
Those days are long past and the time has come for me to reclaim my throne and solidify my dominion over this loathsome, ignoble race of men and women called the IWF roster. You may all think you have what it takes to place yourself upon that tier, but I am going to show each and every one of you that you are the nothing more than feeble peasants who have not even the right to stand inside my province. This Sunday, in the Heir to the Throne Battle Royale, I will remove the sword from the stone and slay my enemies, bringing me one step closer to my goal of complete and total supremacy over the Imperial Wrestling Federation.
It is the darkness that drives me, the shade that consumes and empowers me. Through its guidance, I will rise above these simple minded fools and take my place among the immortals, leaving a path of fear and anguish in my footsteps. These are not the ravings of a madman, but the cold truths of life that you will all come to know in a very short amount of time. The once and future king has returned and I WILL have the glory of my kingdom restored to me. Step up to the King of Nightmares, commoners and take your place among the dead.....
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Deathtrain snaps awake from sleep, covered in sweat from head to toe. He sits up in his bed and looks over at the clock on the night stand. 3 AM. The time stares back, almost mocking him. Deathtrain shakes his head and climbs out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He flicks the light on as he enters, and reaches for the sink. He splashes cold water over his face, the images of his dream on a constant loop in his mind.
Deathtrain stares at himself in the mirror, his skin as pale as the sheets on his bed. The nightmares had started once again. Deathtrain laughs to himself, a deep menacing ripple among the otherwise silent room. He knew that the dreams would come, knew that they would forever torment him once he started back on this path. Such was the price he had to pay for walking down this road again, for embracing the darkness that lurked within him. He knew not where it came from, or why it had chosen to attach itself to him, but it had always been there for as long as he could remember. It was the source of his power, the driving force behind his every action inside the wrestling world.
Why wrestling? Why had the darkness chosen Deathtrain, a mere man who sought to make a living through self abuse, as its vessel? Deathtrain didn't care. It didn't matter to him in the slightest. All he cared about was leaving his mark on the business, furthering his legacy with each act of brutality and violence. If allowing the darkness in his heart to engulf his entire being is what it took to reach the pinnacle of his profession, then so be it. Hell....it made things that much more amusing for him.
Deathtrain dries his face on a towel and makes his way back to bed. He knew that if he went back to sleep that the nightmares would just start up again. He also knew that there was no escaping them, no going back now that he had already begun his journey. He rolls over to switch off the lamp and his eyes fall upon the picture of his son, Aaron. Deathtrain thought to himself for a minute, trying to fight off the guilt before it could wash over him. The guilt lost out this time, fading into nothingness. It seems that not even the silent promise he had made to his son could stop him now......
Everything is covered in a thick blanket of darkness. Deathtrain tries to let his eyes adjust, but it is futile. Not even the lights of heaven could pierce through this wall of cimmerian shade. He seems to be on his knees, resting on the ground, but something else is amiss. The floor feels as if it is on fire, almost scalding to the touch, yet cool and relaxing at the same time. Confused, Deathtrain begins reaching around, trying to find something to grab onto so he can stand up, but there is nothing. All he feels is is the fiery/cold dirt beneath him. Something begins to stir within the darkness.
Who's there? Hello?
A deep, ominous laughter fills the darkness, echoing off the surrounding walls, almost as if they are inside some sort of cave. The ground shakes as the being from within the darkness speaks.
Hello, Deathtrain....
The voice falls on Deathtrain's ears, slipping into the deepest corners of his soul. He knows this voice all too well, yet he can't seem to remember from where here recognizes it.
Who is that? What do you want?
The fact that you can't even remember me is exactly why I've brought you here, Deathtrain. You've forgotten about your past, forgotten everything that you are. I have brought you here to rectify that, to right the wrongs that you have committed thus far.
Confused now more than ever, Deathtrain tries to stand up, but he is pushed back down by two strong hands, one on each shoulder. He grunts as he is forced back down into the dirt.
What the hell are you talking about?
Deathtrain....I've noticed that you recently joined the Imperial Wrestling Federation. That's good...very good. It's about time you returned to your roots and got back to doing what you do best. Hurting people. Destroying their lives. Making each and every one of them suffer for every transgression they have ever committed. Once again, though, it seems that you need my help.
Listen. I don't know who the f@#k you are, but I don't need your god damn help! Let me go!
That's where you're wrong, Deathtrain. Oh so very wrong. You need my help now more than ever. I've watched you in your first few matches with the IWF, watched as you floundered around, letting yourself get beaten by some half wit jap who thinks he's some kind of flying squirrel or something. Although, that kick to the groin was rather funny, I'll admit. Poor Mikey. But, therein lies the problem. This isn't some kind of comedic game, Deathtrain. It is your job to unleash hell, to cause pain and to torment all those who stand before you in that ring. In fact, it is the demonic duty you were sworn to many years ago, and you have failed eternally in keeping up your end of the bargain.
Suddenly, the reality of this entire sordid situation begins to sink in. Deathtrain realizes what's going on.
You? You're the darkness....
Not just any darkness, DT old buddy. I am the midnight inside of you, that dark hole rotting deep inside your heart. I am the beast you used to call upon long ago, the crimson fiend whose thirst for blood was eternal. So many times we fought those battles together. How much blood did we shed? How much havoc was wrought between those ropes? We were the living personification of everyone's worst nightmares, yet all I see before me is a dreamy cloud of shit, a pathetic excuse of a man no longer worthy of the title Walking Nightmare. That all changes now. I will not let your legacy be destroyed before it has even started, and I refuse to just sit back and watch you fade away into obscurity.
All of the beings words are swirling around inside Deathtrain's head, jumbled together in a twisted cocktail of truth, lies and misery.
You still don't know who I am? Fine then...Arise warrior of darkness. Rise to your feet and stand face to face with your perdition!
Deathtrain is pulled to his feet, and the darkness is thrown away as one of the men on his side removes the hood that had been placed over his head. They continue to hold his arms as a blinding light fills his eyes, and his head feels like it's beginning to swell. Finally, his eyes adjust clearly enough to see the being standing in front of him. Deathtrain gasps as he realizes that the person in front of him....is himself!
What the hell?!!
That's right, Deathtrain. I am you, or, at least, everything you used to be. You've failed to prove yourself worthy of the instruments of subversion you've been given, failed to unleash your true potential and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit idly and watch you destroy yourself.
The demented doppelganger walks up to Deathtrain and leans in, bringing their faces within an inch of each other. A cruel, twisted smile spreads across his lips as he places his hand over Deathtrain's heart.
I'm taking over from here you washed up son of a bitch...
He reaches into Deathtrain's chest and wraps his massive hand around his heart. Blood and bones erupt from Deathtrain's chest cavity as his heart is ripped from his body. The demon looks at the organ in his hand, oozing with blood and still beating. He smiles at Deathtrain before bringing the heart to his mouth and taking a bite out of it. Deathtrain falls to the floor, crumbling away as the evil duplicate's sinister laughter echoes inside his slowly withering mind.....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Heir to the Throne..A fitting title for this Sunday's battle royal. You see, a kingdom would be nothing if it was ruled by an empty throne. Chaos would reign on high, and calamity would tear the world asunder. Every throne needs its king, and, this Sunday, the once and future king shall begin his ascension to the seat of power, an act that will forever be remembered as the genesis of his legacy. That king is none other than myself, the former King of Nightmares, Deathtrain.
Years ago, the King of Nightmares was a moniker that was not just given to me, but was EARNED through my actions inside And outside of the ring. I was the living embodiment of everyone's worst fears, a heartless beast of trepidation who sought the destruction and subjugation of the masses who wished to see me removed from my rightful place above them. Time and time again I was faced with opposition from the rabble, each one thinking they had the strength and courage to withstand the onslaught of physical and mental ruination that was laid out before them. But, all of their efforts were wasted for there was none among them who could stand and face me within my kingdom and each and every last one of them fell prey to the madness and despair within their own hearts.
Those days are long past and the time has come for me to reclaim my throne and solidify my dominion over this loathsome, ignoble race of men and women called the IWF roster. You may all think you have what it takes to place yourself upon that tier, but I am going to show each and every one of you that you are the nothing more than feeble peasants who have not even the right to stand inside my province. This Sunday, in the Heir to the Throne Battle Royale, I will remove the sword from the stone and slay my enemies, bringing me one step closer to my goal of complete and total supremacy over the Imperial Wrestling Federation.
It is the darkness that drives me, the shade that consumes and empowers me. Through its guidance, I will rise above these simple minded fools and take my place among the immortals, leaving a path of fear and anguish in my footsteps. These are not the ravings of a madman, but the cold truths of life that you will all come to know in a very short amount of time. The once and future king has returned and I WILL have the glory of my kingdom restored to me. Step up to the King of Nightmares, commoners and take your place among the dead.....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Deathtrain snaps awake from sleep, covered in sweat from head to toe. He sits up in his bed and looks over at the clock on the night stand. 3 AM. The time stares back, almost mocking him. Deathtrain shakes his head and climbs out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He flicks the light on as he enters, and reaches for the sink. He splashes cold water over his face, the images of his dream on a constant loop in his mind.
Deathtrain stares at himself in the mirror, his skin as pale as the sheets on his bed. The nightmares had started once again. Deathtrain laughs to himself, a deep menacing ripple among the otherwise silent room. He knew that the dreams would come, knew that they would forever torment him once he started back on this path. Such was the price he had to pay for walking down this road again, for embracing the darkness that lurked within him. He knew not where it came from, or why it had chosen to attach itself to him, but it had always been there for as long as he could remember. It was the source of his power, the driving force behind his every action inside the wrestling world.
Why wrestling? Why had the darkness chosen Deathtrain, a mere man who sought to make a living through self abuse, as its vessel? Deathtrain didn't care. It didn't matter to him in the slightest. All he cared about was leaving his mark on the business, furthering his legacy with each act of brutality and violence. If allowing the darkness in his heart to engulf his entire being is what it took to reach the pinnacle of his profession, then so be it. Hell....it made things that much more amusing for him.
Deathtrain dries his face on a towel and makes his way back to bed. He knew that if he went back to sleep that the nightmares would just start up again. He also knew that there was no escaping them, no going back now that he had already begun his journey. He rolls over to switch off the lamp and his eyes fall upon the picture of his son, Aaron. Deathtrain thought to himself for a minute, trying to fight off the guilt before it could wash over him. The guilt lost out this time, fading into nothingness. It seems that not even the silent promise he had made to his son could stop him now......
Well howdy there pardner.