Post by Deathtrain on Jul 21, 2013 14:34:52 GMT
CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS RP.....
RING......RING.....RING......
Deathtrain snaps awake from his dream, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looks around the room with a confused expression on his face, trying to figure out what woke him from his sleep. He looks to his left and notices the light on the phone going off. Begrudgingly, he reaches over and picks it up to look at the caller ID. Erica Matheson. What he hell could she want at this time of night? Deathtrain clicks the on button and puts the phone to his ear.
What the hell do you want?
....Daddy?.....
Aaron!? Sorry, buddy. What in the world are you doing calling me so late? Where's your mom?
She's asleep, Daddy.
Okay....So, what's wrong?
Daddy....I....*sob*....I had a bad dream...*
Deathtrain can barely understand the boy through all the crying. He doesn't know what to feel more...heartache that his son is crying over a nightmare, or joy that his son would actually call him instead of going to his mother. Trying to shake off what little bit of sleep is still holding on, Deathtrain keeps the conversation going.
Hey..hey calm down, Aaron. Everything's alright. What kind of bad dream did you have? Tell me about it.
....I...It was really bad, Daddy...
It's okay, Aaron. You can tell me.
I dreamed that..a monster came and took me away from Mommy!
Aaron....we've talked about this before. You know that monsters aren't real.
I know...but....it was so real....
Dreams have a way of doing that sometimes. What did this monster look like?
.....
Aaron?
.......
Aaron? Come on, tell me.
I...I can't......
It's okay. You don't have to be scared. I'm right here.
Daddy.....the monster....was YOU!
A chill runs down Deathtrain's spine as a cold laughter echoes inside his mind, filling his consciousness with its macabre resonance. Deathtrain sits up in the bed and looks around, trying to find the source of this laughter, but finds none. Yet, he can still hear it sounding off in the back of his mind, almost right on the tips of his ears.
Aaron...that's...that's silly. You know Daddy would never do anything to hurt you. Where would you even get a thought like that?
I don't want to get her in trouble....
Erica?! Mommy told you I was a monster?
...No...
Then what did she say, Aaron? You've got to tell me.
There is a long silence on the young boy's end of the line. Finally, the boy takes a breath and fires off a question that catches Deathtrain completely off guard.
Daddy...are you one of the bad guys? Mommy said that you were one of the really bad guys.
I....Geez, Aaron....You really shouldn't be watching Daddy on tv. You know that it's all just a show and that who I am on tv isn't who I am in real life.
I tried to tell Mommy, but she says that who you are at home isn't real...She says that who you are on the tv is real....
Aaron.....gosh buddy...I....
Deathtrain hears his ex-wife in the background.
Aaron? What are you doing?
I'm talking to Daddy...I had a bad dream....
Well, tell Daddy bye and come to bed.
Okay...Daddy, I gotta go.
Wait, Aaron!
I love you, Daddy.
*CLICK* The line goes dead. Deathtrain pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment. In a rage, he throws the phone against the wall, shattering it. The pieces fly across the room, scattering across the floor. Deathtrain stares at the heap of plastic laying across the room, his rage consuming him, swallowing him from inside. He puts his face in his hands, trying to fight back the anger, trying so very hard to keep it in check. His breathing grows rapid as his heartbeat begins to race, thunderously beating in his ear. The pounding grows louder and louder as Deathtrain begins to rock back and forth until it is the only sound in the room. Deathtrain throws his head back and screams as loud as he can. The pounding ceases....his labored breathing stops...and all is quiet. He stares across the room once more at his phone. He gets out of bed, walks over to it and picks it up. Turning his head sideways, he makes his way into his bathroom, flipping the light switch as he enters. Deathtrain stops in front of sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He turns his head the other way, cocking it to the other side. His eyes flick over to the broken mess in his hand.
....I love you too, son....
Deathtrain drops the phone and flicks his eyes back towards the mirror. A deep, guttural noise begins to work its way up past his lungs and out his mouth. It is the same laughter he heard just moments before, only now it is not just inside his head, but escaping from his own lips. Deathtrain cackles and howls, a cacophony of sinister laughter that seems to emanate from the bowls of Hell itself. His dark laughter continues to bounce of the walls and floor as the scene fades to black....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So...once again I find myself sitting here, sulking in yet another defeat. It seems that no matter what I say, no matter what I do, there is always some little bitch around the corner jerking the rug out from underneath me. There I was at Sacrifice, on the cusp of sealing my victory and taking my place in the final four of the tournament, when Joe Everyman, ever the opportunist, snuck in a stole my win from me. That was my place, Joe, MINE!! You honestly think that you deserve that spot, that you earned it through your own hard work? Do you honestly think that you could have pulled out that win without me in that ring beating the hell out of everyone who was there? All you did by stealing that win, Joe, was piss me off. I don't know why you keep this little game between us going. How long has it been now? Six or seven years? And here we are, at each other's throats like always, with you sneaking in and pulling cheap wins out of your ass. Are you that scared to face me? Have I tortured you so much in the past that you can't even begin to think about actually trying to topple me? Well, that's the one thing you've actually done right all these years Joe. You know that you can't beat me. You know it in your heart just as much as I know it. Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, Joe. I hope that you stand tall and proud this Sunday as you continue your way through that tournament. Not only that, but I hope you win the whole damn thing, because I'm coming after you once all of this is said and done, and I'd like it if you were wearing that Imperial Championship around your waist so that I can take it from you and see the look in your eyes when you realize that your dream has just been crushed by the one demon from your past that you cannot escape. You may think that this is over between us, but you know deep down that it never is, not with us. Good luck, Joe. Fight hard, and win that belt for me.
Now, thankfully I've been given a match this Sunday at Lineage, a match against the newcomer "Godly" Ken Davison. Well, bad luck for you Kenny because you're going to be entering that ring on Sunday with a monster, a man seeking revenge for the injustices that have been dealt to him. I have all of this anger, this resentment, that has been building up inside of me all week, and you, unfortunate one are going to be the martyr upon which I release all of my rage. No, this isn't the finals of the Heir to the Throne tournament and no, this isn't going to be for the Imperial Championship, but every second of this match is going to be just as intense as if it really were those things.
I know that you've just started here recently, Ken, and that you've only had maybe one or two matches so far, but I can promise you that this bout will be one you never forget. As far as your career might take you, you will always remember the agony, and the pain you faced at Lineage on July 21st, 2013. I am going to unleash a hell upon you like you've never faced, and I promise you that the scars from this battle will NEVER heal. They will fester inside you, rotting you to the very core of your being, tearing your soul apart piece by piece. And when the pus begins to ooze from your wounds, I will be right there to reopen them, to cut the scars deeper than before, to continue its cancerous spread through your system.
Ken, I am your worst dreams personified, a living reincarnation of your deepest fears and an eternal nightmare from which there is no escape. To face me in battle is to render your soul unto the foulest denizens of the Hell that I have created, to face the living embodiment of terror. The only thing you have to look forward to after our encounter this Sunday is a lifetime of misery and looking over your shoulder, constantly living from moment to moment in agony wondering when I'll strike next. These are all cold, hard facts that you must come to terms with if you are to stand across the ring from me this Sunday night, and I will make sure to help you reach those terms ever so quickly. Prepare yourself, oh "Godly" one for Lucifer is here to unleash pestilence on your mortal soul. Only when your body has been drained of its energy and only when my thirst for blood has been sated will I show mercy and finally pin your foul carcass in the middle of that ring. Vengeance is sought...and so it shall be wrought....
Deathtrain snaps awake from his dream, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looks around the room with a confused expression on his face, trying to figure out what woke him from his sleep. He looks to his left and notices the light on the phone going off. Begrudgingly, he reaches over and picks it up to look at the caller ID. Erica Matheson. What he hell could she want at this time of night? Deathtrain clicks the on button and puts the phone to his ear.
What the hell do you want?
....Daddy?.....
Aaron!? Sorry, buddy. What in the world are you doing calling me so late? Where's your mom?
She's asleep, Daddy.
Okay....So, what's wrong?
Daddy....I....*sob*....I had a bad dream...*
Deathtrain can barely understand the boy through all the crying. He doesn't know what to feel more...heartache that his son is crying over a nightmare, or joy that his son would actually call him instead of going to his mother. Trying to shake off what little bit of sleep is still holding on, Deathtrain keeps the conversation going.
Hey..hey calm down, Aaron. Everything's alright. What kind of bad dream did you have? Tell me about it.
....I...It was really bad, Daddy...
It's okay, Aaron. You can tell me.
I dreamed that..a monster came and took me away from Mommy!
Aaron....we've talked about this before. You know that monsters aren't real.
I know...but....it was so real....
Dreams have a way of doing that sometimes. What did this monster look like?
.....
Aaron?
.......
Aaron? Come on, tell me.
I...I can't......
It's okay. You don't have to be scared. I'm right here.
Daddy.....the monster....was YOU!
A chill runs down Deathtrain's spine as a cold laughter echoes inside his mind, filling his consciousness with its macabre resonance. Deathtrain sits up in the bed and looks around, trying to find the source of this laughter, but finds none. Yet, he can still hear it sounding off in the back of his mind, almost right on the tips of his ears.
Aaron...that's...that's silly. You know Daddy would never do anything to hurt you. Where would you even get a thought like that?
I don't want to get her in trouble....
Erica?! Mommy told you I was a monster?
...No...
Then what did she say, Aaron? You've got to tell me.
There is a long silence on the young boy's end of the line. Finally, the boy takes a breath and fires off a question that catches Deathtrain completely off guard.
Daddy...are you one of the bad guys? Mommy said that you were one of the really bad guys.
I....Geez, Aaron....You really shouldn't be watching Daddy on tv. You know that it's all just a show and that who I am on tv isn't who I am in real life.
I tried to tell Mommy, but she says that who you are at home isn't real...She says that who you are on the tv is real....
Aaron.....gosh buddy...I....
Deathtrain hears his ex-wife in the background.
Aaron? What are you doing?
I'm talking to Daddy...I had a bad dream....
Well, tell Daddy bye and come to bed.
Okay...Daddy, I gotta go.
Wait, Aaron!
I love you, Daddy.
*CLICK* The line goes dead. Deathtrain pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment. In a rage, he throws the phone against the wall, shattering it. The pieces fly across the room, scattering across the floor. Deathtrain stares at the heap of plastic laying across the room, his rage consuming him, swallowing him from inside. He puts his face in his hands, trying to fight back the anger, trying so very hard to keep it in check. His breathing grows rapid as his heartbeat begins to race, thunderously beating in his ear. The pounding grows louder and louder as Deathtrain begins to rock back and forth until it is the only sound in the room. Deathtrain throws his head back and screams as loud as he can. The pounding ceases....his labored breathing stops...and all is quiet. He stares across the room once more at his phone. He gets out of bed, walks over to it and picks it up. Turning his head sideways, he makes his way into his bathroom, flipping the light switch as he enters. Deathtrain stops in front of sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He turns his head the other way, cocking it to the other side. His eyes flick over to the broken mess in his hand.
....I love you too, son....
Deathtrain drops the phone and flicks his eyes back towards the mirror. A deep, guttural noise begins to work its way up past his lungs and out his mouth. It is the same laughter he heard just moments before, only now it is not just inside his head, but escaping from his own lips. Deathtrain cackles and howls, a cacophony of sinister laughter that seems to emanate from the bowls of Hell itself. His dark laughter continues to bounce of the walls and floor as the scene fades to black....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So...once again I find myself sitting here, sulking in yet another defeat. It seems that no matter what I say, no matter what I do, there is always some little bitch around the corner jerking the rug out from underneath me. There I was at Sacrifice, on the cusp of sealing my victory and taking my place in the final four of the tournament, when Joe Everyman, ever the opportunist, snuck in a stole my win from me. That was my place, Joe, MINE!! You honestly think that you deserve that spot, that you earned it through your own hard work? Do you honestly think that you could have pulled out that win without me in that ring beating the hell out of everyone who was there? All you did by stealing that win, Joe, was piss me off. I don't know why you keep this little game between us going. How long has it been now? Six or seven years? And here we are, at each other's throats like always, with you sneaking in and pulling cheap wins out of your ass. Are you that scared to face me? Have I tortured you so much in the past that you can't even begin to think about actually trying to topple me? Well, that's the one thing you've actually done right all these years Joe. You know that you can't beat me. You know it in your heart just as much as I know it. Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, Joe. I hope that you stand tall and proud this Sunday as you continue your way through that tournament. Not only that, but I hope you win the whole damn thing, because I'm coming after you once all of this is said and done, and I'd like it if you were wearing that Imperial Championship around your waist so that I can take it from you and see the look in your eyes when you realize that your dream has just been crushed by the one demon from your past that you cannot escape. You may think that this is over between us, but you know deep down that it never is, not with us. Good luck, Joe. Fight hard, and win that belt for me.
Now, thankfully I've been given a match this Sunday at Lineage, a match against the newcomer "Godly" Ken Davison. Well, bad luck for you Kenny because you're going to be entering that ring on Sunday with a monster, a man seeking revenge for the injustices that have been dealt to him. I have all of this anger, this resentment, that has been building up inside of me all week, and you, unfortunate one are going to be the martyr upon which I release all of my rage. No, this isn't the finals of the Heir to the Throne tournament and no, this isn't going to be for the Imperial Championship, but every second of this match is going to be just as intense as if it really were those things.
I know that you've just started here recently, Ken, and that you've only had maybe one or two matches so far, but I can promise you that this bout will be one you never forget. As far as your career might take you, you will always remember the agony, and the pain you faced at Lineage on July 21st, 2013. I am going to unleash a hell upon you like you've never faced, and I promise you that the scars from this battle will NEVER heal. They will fester inside you, rotting you to the very core of your being, tearing your soul apart piece by piece. And when the pus begins to ooze from your wounds, I will be right there to reopen them, to cut the scars deeper than before, to continue its cancerous spread through your system.
Ken, I am your worst dreams personified, a living reincarnation of your deepest fears and an eternal nightmare from which there is no escape. To face me in battle is to render your soul unto the foulest denizens of the Hell that I have created, to face the living embodiment of terror. The only thing you have to look forward to after our encounter this Sunday is a lifetime of misery and looking over your shoulder, constantly living from moment to moment in agony wondering when I'll strike next. These are all cold, hard facts that you must come to terms with if you are to stand across the ring from me this Sunday night, and I will make sure to help you reach those terms ever so quickly. Prepare yourself, oh "Godly" one for Lucifer is here to unleash pestilence on your mortal soul. Only when your body has been drained of its energy and only when my thirst for blood has been sated will I show mercy and finally pin your foul carcass in the middle of that ring. Vengeance is sought...and so it shall be wrought....
Well howdy there pardner.