Post by The Templar on Oct 28, 2010 23:48:23 GMT -5
{Writer’s notes: This is a continuation of the previous debuting segments ”Only A Nightmare” and also the final instalment.}
The scene opens up in the typical Glory and Honour locker room. Lined up along the walls are your standard lockers with benches thrown all over to give the place a bit more of a comfortable feel. The room itself is practically empty of humanly presence, since everyone else is either getting ready for their match or watching out on the floor on the screen. Empty excluding a large bulking behemoth wearing nothing more than a skin tight black wrestling mask and your generic run of the mill flat black wrestling attire. He remains seated on the bench, playing around with his elbow pad on his left arm, listening to the cheering and ruckus outside of the room and the gentle running of water, a shower to be exact, in the next conjoined room.
Beast never dreamed of being a professional Fighty fighty person. Hell, nothing of the sorts even ever crossed his mind growing up. The only thing particularly athletic he ever had done, that he could remember, was playing football in his junior high school years but even then that was only a two year run. Beast was a brute and a labourer, that was it and that was all. Remembering what his father told him, Beast knew he was never going to be smart enough to make something of his life so why not help where he could. Spending the majority of his time on construction sites and doing odd jobs or stuck in the bar, Beast’s life became as repetitive as hours on a clock. That was, of course, until he met Pavor...
Beast jumps up from his seat and turns on the spot, looking down at his mentor’s cold emerald eyes. Lost in thought, Beast didn’t even realize the sound of the water in the shower turning off. Not surprisingly, despite only wearing a towel, Pavor’s burlap mask is already tightly fashioned around his head, locked in place by the noose tied tight around his neck.
Despite taking the poor boy under his wing, Pavor still couldn’t get used to how apologetic and needy this man child was. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Pavor shrugs it off and walks over to his locker to get dressed. Looking down at his own muscular, bulky and simultaneously hairy body, Beast seemed confused by how strictly fit Pavor was. It’s not that it was unbelievably muscular but he was thick framed for a man of his size and didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him. Pavor Nocturnus was built to be a Fighty fighty person. Reaching under the mask to scratch his itchy head, Beast takes a step towards Pavor and asks a question that’s been on his mind for awhile.
In the process of throwing on his dirty and torn up dress shirt, Pavor pauses and looks directly at Beast, sending a slight glare towards the big man’s way. Beast, feeling a beating is in the midst, cowers down and lowers his shoulder but, rather than a fist, receives a rather hearty laugh from Pavor, nothing like his normal tittering cowl, but a genuine laugh.
Like any good obeying and thoughtful little pupil, Beast nods eagerly and sits down on the bench starring up at Pavor as if he were the Lord himself. An ironic concept since Pavor’s God complex was loaded beyond belief. Quickly tucking his ratty old dress shirt into his equally as skewed dress pants, Pavor clears his throat and lets out a low sigh, his voice changing instantly from the creepy, tittering little growl to something much more genuine; a deep, powerful voice. It was broad and articulate, one you’d picture to be leading an army, not concealed under a filthy sack.
Feeling the emotion that Pavor is expunging, Beast reaches a hand out to Pavor and places it on his elbow. On contact, everything retreated back. His calm demeanour, his willingness to talk, his deep and soothing voice, and it all reverted back to the mask, not the man beneath it.
Beast:
“Uh... Boss...? What, exactly are we taking...?”[/center]
This time the laugh was the loud cowl he expected. Tittering and cheerful, Pavor lows his face directly into Beast’s and, for at least a second, Beast could see the human behind the eyes but soon it spun down into the dark green abyss.
Grabbing onto both sides of Beast’s mask, Pavor pulls it very close right up to his face, the tension and anxiety clearly overwhelming him. Trying to cower back, Beast has no chance against Pavor’s might. He’s nothing but a puppet, a marionette being lead by the master...
End of segments.
Comments and criticism appreciated.
The scene opens up in the typical Glory and Honour locker room. Lined up along the walls are your standard lockers with benches thrown all over to give the place a bit more of a comfortable feel. The room itself is practically empty of humanly presence, since everyone else is either getting ready for their match or watching out on the floor on the screen. Empty excluding a large bulking behemoth wearing nothing more than a skin tight black wrestling mask and your generic run of the mill flat black wrestling attire. He remains seated on the bench, playing around with his elbow pad on his left arm, listening to the cheering and ruckus outside of the room and the gentle running of water, a shower to be exact, in the next conjoined room.
Beast never dreamed of being a professional Fighty fighty person. Hell, nothing of the sorts even ever crossed his mind growing up. The only thing particularly athletic he ever had done, that he could remember, was playing football in his junior high school years but even then that was only a two year run. Beast was a brute and a labourer, that was it and that was all. Remembering what his father told him, Beast knew he was never going to be smart enough to make something of his life so why not help where he could. Spending the majority of his time on construction sites and doing odd jobs or stuck in the bar, Beast’s life became as repetitive as hours on a clock. That was, of course, until he met Pavor...
Pavor Nocturnus:
“What has your mind all trapped in the clouds?”
[/center]“What has your mind all trapped in the clouds?”
Beast jumps up from his seat and turns on the spot, looking down at his mentor’s cold emerald eyes. Lost in thought, Beast didn’t even realize the sound of the water in the shower turning off. Not surprisingly, despite only wearing a towel, Pavor’s burlap mask is already tightly fashioned around his head, locked in place by the noose tied tight around his neck.
Beast:
“Oh! So sorry boss... Sorry, I should be concentrated on the match... Sorry boss, I’ll remember for next time, promise...”
[/center]“Oh! So sorry boss... Sorry, I should be concentrated on the match... Sorry boss, I’ll remember for next time, promise...”
Despite taking the poor boy under his wing, Pavor still couldn’t get used to how apologetic and needy this man child was. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Pavor shrugs it off and walks over to his locker to get dressed. Looking down at his own muscular, bulky and simultaneously hairy body, Beast seemed confused by how strictly fit Pavor was. It’s not that it was unbelievably muscular but he was thick framed for a man of his size and didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him. Pavor Nocturnus was built to be a Fighty fighty person. Reaching under the mask to scratch his itchy head, Beast takes a step towards Pavor and asks a question that’s been on his mind for awhile.
Beast:
“So... Uh... Pavor...? If you don’t mind me asking... Why did you get out of wrestling?”
[/center]“So... Uh... Pavor...? If you don’t mind me asking... Why did you get out of wrestling?”
In the process of throwing on his dirty and torn up dress shirt, Pavor pauses and looks directly at Beast, sending a slight glare towards the big man’s way. Beast, feeling a beating is in the midst, cowers down and lowers his shoulder but, rather than a fist, receives a rather hearty laugh from Pavor, nothing like his normal tittering cowl, but a genuine laugh.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“So that’s what’s been bothering you boy... I suppose I should tell you before I get you even deeper into this mess, no?”
[/center]“So that’s what’s been bothering you boy... I suppose I should tell you before I get you even deeper into this mess, no?”
Like any good obeying and thoughtful little pupil, Beast nods eagerly and sits down on the bench starring up at Pavor as if he were the Lord himself. An ironic concept since Pavor’s God complex was loaded beyond belief. Quickly tucking his ratty old dress shirt into his equally as skewed dress pants, Pavor clears his throat and lets out a low sigh, his voice changing instantly from the creepy, tittering little growl to something much more genuine; a deep, powerful voice. It was broad and articulate, one you’d picture to be leading an army, not concealed under a filthy sack.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“Heroine is a Hell of a drug. It’s awful, it’s dirty, it’s gritty, and the people you meet through it aren’t exactly model citizens... Yet it’s so addicting. It makes you feel unbelievable and you’d do absolutely anything for it and sure the people aren’t the best but soon they become your family, and you share the drug and you feed off of one another... Wrestling is my heroine. I lost everything for it. I went out there every single night and performed like nobody’s business. If I was told to jump I’d ask from one height. I bled, cried, and sweat for what? A rush. Tell me, it felt great when those people were watching you and cheering you, did it not? Now imagine being the top of the business... Big fish in a big pond...”
Yet... She didn’t exactly feel the same way... I write to her every single day and yet I get no response. I know why, she knows I love my drug more than her. Friends, family, you lose it all... I left to get it back...”
[/center]“Heroine is a Hell of a drug. It’s awful, it’s dirty, it’s gritty, and the people you meet through it aren’t exactly model citizens... Yet it’s so addicting. It makes you feel unbelievable and you’d do absolutely anything for it and sure the people aren’t the best but soon they become your family, and you share the drug and you feed off of one another... Wrestling is my heroine. I lost everything for it. I went out there every single night and performed like nobody’s business. If I was told to jump I’d ask from one height. I bled, cried, and sweat for what? A rush. Tell me, it felt great when those people were watching you and cheering you, did it not? Now imagine being the top of the business... Big fish in a big pond...”
Yet... She didn’t exactly feel the same way... I write to her every single day and yet I get no response. I know why, she knows I love my drug more than her. Friends, family, you lose it all... I left to get it back...”
Feeling the emotion that Pavor is expunging, Beast reaches a hand out to Pavor and places it on his elbow. On contact, everything retreated back. His calm demeanour, his willingness to talk, his deep and soothing voice, and it all reverted back to the mask, not the man beneath it.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“But... Th-that’s not important anymore. We have only one main task to take care of while we’re here, and I ex-ex-expect you to take care of it... Soon this will be your drug, and you’ll embrace it. You’ll love it... And then they will take it all away... I’m here to-to-to help you take it though...”
“But... Th-that’s not important anymore. We have only one main task to take care of while we’re here, and I ex-ex-expect you to take care of it... Soon this will be your drug, and you’ll embrace it. You’ll love it... And then they will take it all away... I’m here to-to-to help you take it though...”
Beast:
“Uh... Boss...? What, exactly are we taking...?”[/center]
This time the laugh was the loud cowl he expected. Tittering and cheerful, Pavor lows his face directly into Beast’s and, for at least a second, Beast could see the human behind the eyes but soon it spun down into the dark green abyss.
Pavor Nocturnus:
“A-ha-haa-haa-ha! So much to learn! We’re here to take exactly what I’m deserved... Ex-exactly what everybody here wants... It is mine, it always has been... It shall be mine... The King of the Deathmatch... AND when you pin whoever the champion at the time is... And I hold my child in my arms again... As my little disciple we’ll put the God and Heretics directly back into GHW... R-right where it belongs... And it won’t be very hard to realize...”
[/center]“A-ha-haa-haa-ha! So much to learn! We’re here to take exactly what I’m deserved... Ex-exactly what everybody here wants... It is mine, it always has been... It shall be mine... The King of the Deathmatch... AND when you pin whoever the champion at the time is... And I hold my child in my arms again... As my little disciple we’ll put the God and Heretics directly back into GHW... R-right where it belongs... And it won’t be very hard to realize...”
Grabbing onto both sides of Beast’s mask, Pavor pulls it very close right up to his face, the tension and anxiety clearly overwhelming him. Trying to cower back, Beast has no chance against Pavor’s might. He’s nothing but a puppet, a marionette being lead by the master...
Pavor Nocturnus:
“... This is far more than a nightmare..."
[/center]“... This is far more than a nightmare..."
End of segments.
Comments and criticism appreciated.