Post by Jet Somers on Dec 3, 2010 19:46:51 GMT -5
'Everybody Down'
You're blood is pumping as you make your way out to the ring to partner up alongside Kiseragi. Here you go, ready for the proverbial 'preview match,' that pits you against your puppet master, and your excitement is barely contained. You can even manage to ignore the flippant remarks coming from Dr. Hans Lieberjosch as he continues to play his part sowing doubt on your behalf. That's ok. You already know there isn't a single person employed by this wretched company who cares a bit about your motivations. And yet, here you are, greeting thousands of fans who are rooting for you to put on a sample of what's to come in one week. You didn't have to impress anyone, or have the right friends to get to where you are. You fought and clawed your way here, shedding blood and tears in equal portions. You deserve it.
‘You’re The Best’
As one, you and Alex turn to watch the approach of the fallen member of Team Hero. The fastest kid alive is the fastest one to bury a knife in your back, and you glance at your friend, making sure there are no leaks in the patched up friendship you've both managed to salvage. You feel a twinge of doubt, realizing that without that first respectful feud with the man now standing strong by your side, you wouldn't have been able to achieve this level of accomplishment. But Alex only has eyes for the false god marching grimly toward the both of you, and relief washes over you.
“Ripper”
It might as well be the last song you hear. While the opening guitars usually signal the approach of Lord Donovan Hastings, the United Global Champion, the lyrics are starting to have some meaning for you after all this time. All the talk about going insane, watching your evil dreams come true, and harboring a sick side that everyone hates, which has become the biggest part of you; that's your story in this business, and next week you intend to receive that championship, the symbol of your full conversion. As in the song, you can still feel the flesh and blood on your hands, and your soul is nearly satisfied. Next week, you will be The Ripper, you will rip through Donovan Hastings and right into Melanie, who will finally be forced to show her face. And you will end your work with pain.
As your old pal Claude de Rhombus signals the the start of the bout, you and Marek begin the dance. As focused as you are, as much as you intend to take it to this match and really show Hastings what you mean for him to experience at Horizons, Marek's punishment belongs to Alex, and you can't keep your mind from drifting. You begin to think over the last will and testament you had notarized earlier that day. You might have gotten a little wordy with it, you now realize.
You can't help but roll your eyes as Hastings steps away from tagging range for his partner. He's not scared. He's not trying to sacrifice Marek to save his energy, either. He's just toying with you. Again. Your resolve hardens and you decide to step out and let Alex get his hands on Marek. Let the fans enjoy a real preview... soon Hastings will have no where to run.
On the apron, you drink in the reaction of the crowd as the returned Kiseragi takes Marek to task. That's honor in the ring defending itself, and you can't help but feel a sense of contentment. The roller coaster you have ridden since the beginning, especially the stomach clenching drop that was losing a close friend to murder, has come full circle. Things had gotten pretty bleak, and you had gone from promising young competitor to laughing stock in a few head-scratchingly befuddling stunts. Who, in your shoes, could be blamed for the confused frame of mind? But you have redeemed yourself. Earning trust and friendship back, in the face of the treacherous Marek Daisuke's shenanigans, is only the icing on the cake. When this full tilt rush for the championship began, you were little more than a constant annoying thorn in the side of the company's top competitors, not to mention the Champion's flunkie. Now, he is the only one in your crosshairs, while you've managed to make temporary peace with Freak Show Central, and in the case of Declan Prescott, even convinced one of the former targets to help you get an edge on the camp of Twisted. Let Lieberjosch run off at the mouth, because the name on everyone's lips this month is Jet Somers.
The action suddenly spills to the outside, and you are dragged out of your reverie by a sense of duty. You make to help your partner, not wanting him to throw away the match for a pointless brawl, but now Donovan is taunting you inside the ring. You are torn. A chance to wound your target, or a chance to redeem yourself further in the eyes of everyone watching? Saving the hope of a win tonight, or taking the hope of making a win next week a little easier? A sense of duty to a friend you have only just gained back, or a sense of duty to a lost friend you will never have back?
The decision is made for you as The Dragon takes control, and you rush to confront Hastings. You remember your self control at the last second, and instead of attacking him, you wait. Hastings is a mastermind at schemes and jokes played on the unsuspecting. He knows you want what he's got more than anything, and you know he's trying to bait you for something.
The world slows down to the space between heartbeats. As hell is breaking out all around the outside of the ring, you forget everything about duty and honor and friendship. You step closer to your target, wanting to take it now, not caring that it won't mean gaining the championship tonight, earning your own bait to bring out an even crazier foe. Hastings is taunting you, but you don't allow yourself to hear it. You know it will be the same meaningless drivel he and his partner have been spewing since you won the right to face him. Probably something about not being worthy of the match, something about ruining the main event at the biggest show of the year. Although you know he is baiting you, you are ready for whatever he can throw at you. You take another step.
Hastings suddenly rolls out of the ring and Rhombus' bell can be heard. There is a moment of confused shock at the behavior of the so called champion, then you realize what happened. The bait and switch. Now you understand. The so-called champion distracted you long enough to steal a cheap victory from you. You almost have to snicker. But you quickly promise yourself that it's the last victory he'll ever hold over you, as you watch him slide back into the ring and raise a folded chair. You react without thinking, and you are flying. You drive the champion to the mat, then weave him into submission.
Everything falls away as you refuse to let go of this moment. This is what it's going to feel like, your coronation. This is how you will end your work with pain, by taking the entire damned thing into your clutches, finally pulling the strings, not with crafty maneuvering, exploiting connections, or standing on your fabled history. You will seize the throne by force, a bloody coup, and then vengeance will be yours.
And as a Louis comes crashing through your dream, you ignore the pompous words of Ole Bob. This is how she hopes to see it end. An unexpected collision in your greatest moment. No matter what surprises Robert Ooley and The Consortium have in store for you, you know you must not let her surprise you, even as you surprise the world by become the United Global Champion at Horizons.
----------
Looking back, they really should have been more careful. They can play the little cute fucking game that every overly-cocky, but relevant superstar plays, not knowing who the veteran is, what epic footprints you left in the earth of this business. But the organizers and benefactors of this organization could have dug up your history with minimal effort. It would be naive to really believe they hadn't. But even so, what happened at Horizons left everyone in shock.
You shake your head as you smirk, watching the event one last time on the video feed, marveling that the actual incident was included in the pay package. In hindsight, the history that was selectively ignored would have turned up plenty of events you had headlined at the Garden in the past, the many shudderingly awesome feats, both inspiring and sickening, which should have foreshadowed what was to come.
A more thorough search of that precarious unfinished catwalk before the show; a little forethought to prompt questions. Why had you purchased a full ticket, yet only showed up moments before the man you had been mentoring was to take the stage? Why had you specifically requested a seat so far away in the nosebleeds, when you could easily have scored ringside seats given your status? Why had you spent a fair amount of time excusing yourself to the restroom mid match, never to return to that seat? Why the hell weren't you three sheets to the wind like you normally are at sporting events?
But you were just that old bald homeless guy who showed up to help Jet out sometimes. Well, not anymore.
----------
The matter of the true Dragon is settled, and although some may not like how it all turned out in the end, at least it's finished. At least now you can move on and leave Marek Daisuke behind.
You have promised yourself to support Jet, to put what might have gone down between you in the past. Not content to view the main event on a monitor, you decide to watch what could be the crowning of your friend as the new heavyweight champion from up close, right out there with your fans.
You tug at the door to your locker room only to find it secured from the outside. You can't get out, you're trapped! Ice water creeps down your back as you realize who would want you out of the way while Jet competes for the gold. Frantically, you begin to lay into the door with expert kicks.
-----------
Your nipples are hardening. You stalk the halls of Madison Square Garden, a silent killer, ready to take the prize you have waited so long for. The covert tingling, the tightening below your stomach... it's an excitement you thought cauterized forever after a thousand Johns had had their way with you. Even the rampage with which you have secured your revenge couldn't have prepared you for the bloodlust you feel now.
You know they've ignored his suffering. Good. Let him suffer alone as you have. But more importantly, let yourself go unnoticed as you make your way closer and closer to his ultimate destruction. No help will come to him now, especially since you have nailed shut the door to Alex Kiseragi's locker room.
The only thing that turns your head as you move inexorably to the entrance curtain are monitors set up all over the backstage area. The match half the company dreaded, and the other half silently lauded, is raging toward it's end. In 55 inch 1080p clarity, you catch snatches of the back and forth, but you know, this time Somers will come out on top. And the fall, oh god the fall will be glorious...
You're blood is pumping as you make your way out to the ring to partner up alongside Kiseragi. Here you go, ready for the proverbial 'preview match,' that pits you against your puppet master, and your excitement is barely contained. You can even manage to ignore the flippant remarks coming from Dr. Hans Lieberjosch as he continues to play his part sowing doubt on your behalf. That's ok. You already know there isn't a single person employed by this wretched company who cares a bit about your motivations. And yet, here you are, greeting thousands of fans who are rooting for you to put on a sample of what's to come in one week. You didn't have to impress anyone, or have the right friends to get to where you are. You fought and clawed your way here, shedding blood and tears in equal portions. You deserve it.
‘You’re The Best’
As one, you and Alex turn to watch the approach of the fallen member of Team Hero. The fastest kid alive is the fastest one to bury a knife in your back, and you glance at your friend, making sure there are no leaks in the patched up friendship you've both managed to salvage. You feel a twinge of doubt, realizing that without that first respectful feud with the man now standing strong by your side, you wouldn't have been able to achieve this level of accomplishment. But Alex only has eyes for the false god marching grimly toward the both of you, and relief washes over you.
“Ripper”
It might as well be the last song you hear. While the opening guitars usually signal the approach of Lord Donovan Hastings, the United Global Champion, the lyrics are starting to have some meaning for you after all this time. All the talk about going insane, watching your evil dreams come true, and harboring a sick side that everyone hates, which has become the biggest part of you; that's your story in this business, and next week you intend to receive that championship, the symbol of your full conversion. As in the song, you can still feel the flesh and blood on your hands, and your soul is nearly satisfied. Next week, you will be The Ripper, you will rip through Donovan Hastings and right into Melanie, who will finally be forced to show her face. And you will end your work with pain.
As your old pal Claude de Rhombus signals the the start of the bout, you and Marek begin the dance. As focused as you are, as much as you intend to take it to this match and really show Hastings what you mean for him to experience at Horizons, Marek's punishment belongs to Alex, and you can't keep your mind from drifting. You begin to think over the last will and testament you had notarized earlier that day. You might have gotten a little wordy with it, you now realize.
You can't help but roll your eyes as Hastings steps away from tagging range for his partner. He's not scared. He's not trying to sacrifice Marek to save his energy, either. He's just toying with you. Again. Your resolve hardens and you decide to step out and let Alex get his hands on Marek. Let the fans enjoy a real preview... soon Hastings will have no where to run.
On the apron, you drink in the reaction of the crowd as the returned Kiseragi takes Marek to task. That's honor in the ring defending itself, and you can't help but feel a sense of contentment. The roller coaster you have ridden since the beginning, especially the stomach clenching drop that was losing a close friend to murder, has come full circle. Things had gotten pretty bleak, and you had gone from promising young competitor to laughing stock in a few head-scratchingly befuddling stunts. Who, in your shoes, could be blamed for the confused frame of mind? But you have redeemed yourself. Earning trust and friendship back, in the face of the treacherous Marek Daisuke's shenanigans, is only the icing on the cake. When this full tilt rush for the championship began, you were little more than a constant annoying thorn in the side of the company's top competitors, not to mention the Champion's flunkie. Now, he is the only one in your crosshairs, while you've managed to make temporary peace with Freak Show Central, and in the case of Declan Prescott, even convinced one of the former targets to help you get an edge on the camp of Twisted. Let Lieberjosch run off at the mouth, because the name on everyone's lips this month is Jet Somers.
The action suddenly spills to the outside, and you are dragged out of your reverie by a sense of duty. You make to help your partner, not wanting him to throw away the match for a pointless brawl, but now Donovan is taunting you inside the ring. You are torn. A chance to wound your target, or a chance to redeem yourself further in the eyes of everyone watching? Saving the hope of a win tonight, or taking the hope of making a win next week a little easier? A sense of duty to a friend you have only just gained back, or a sense of duty to a lost friend you will never have back?
The decision is made for you as The Dragon takes control, and you rush to confront Hastings. You remember your self control at the last second, and instead of attacking him, you wait. Hastings is a mastermind at schemes and jokes played on the unsuspecting. He knows you want what he's got more than anything, and you know he's trying to bait you for something.
The world slows down to the space between heartbeats. As hell is breaking out all around the outside of the ring, you forget everything about duty and honor and friendship. You step closer to your target, wanting to take it now, not caring that it won't mean gaining the championship tonight, earning your own bait to bring out an even crazier foe. Hastings is taunting you, but you don't allow yourself to hear it. You know it will be the same meaningless drivel he and his partner have been spewing since you won the right to face him. Probably something about not being worthy of the match, something about ruining the main event at the biggest show of the year. Although you know he is baiting you, you are ready for whatever he can throw at you. You take another step.
Hastings suddenly rolls out of the ring and Rhombus' bell can be heard. There is a moment of confused shock at the behavior of the so called champion, then you realize what happened. The bait and switch. Now you understand. The so-called champion distracted you long enough to steal a cheap victory from you. You almost have to snicker. But you quickly promise yourself that it's the last victory he'll ever hold over you, as you watch him slide back into the ring and raise a folded chair. You react without thinking, and you are flying. You drive the champion to the mat, then weave him into submission.
Everything falls away as you refuse to let go of this moment. This is what it's going to feel like, your coronation. This is how you will end your work with pain, by taking the entire damned thing into your clutches, finally pulling the strings, not with crafty maneuvering, exploiting connections, or standing on your fabled history. You will seize the throne by force, a bloody coup, and then vengeance will be yours.
And as a Louis comes crashing through your dream, you ignore the pompous words of Ole Bob. This is how she hopes to see it end. An unexpected collision in your greatest moment. No matter what surprises Robert Ooley and The Consortium have in store for you, you know you must not let her surprise you, even as you surprise the world by become the United Global Champion at Horizons.
----------
Looking back, they really should have been more careful. They can play the little cute fucking game that every overly-cocky, but relevant superstar plays, not knowing who the veteran is, what epic footprints you left in the earth of this business. But the organizers and benefactors of this organization could have dug up your history with minimal effort. It would be naive to really believe they hadn't. But even so, what happened at Horizons left everyone in shock.
You shake your head as you smirk, watching the event one last time on the video feed, marveling that the actual incident was included in the pay package. In hindsight, the history that was selectively ignored would have turned up plenty of events you had headlined at the Garden in the past, the many shudderingly awesome feats, both inspiring and sickening, which should have foreshadowed what was to come.
A more thorough search of that precarious unfinished catwalk before the show; a little forethought to prompt questions. Why had you purchased a full ticket, yet only showed up moments before the man you had been mentoring was to take the stage? Why had you specifically requested a seat so far away in the nosebleeds, when you could easily have scored ringside seats given your status? Why had you spent a fair amount of time excusing yourself to the restroom mid match, never to return to that seat? Why the hell weren't you three sheets to the wind like you normally are at sporting events?
But you were just that old bald homeless guy who showed up to help Jet out sometimes. Well, not anymore.
----------
The matter of the true Dragon is settled, and although some may not like how it all turned out in the end, at least it's finished. At least now you can move on and leave Marek Daisuke behind.
You have promised yourself to support Jet, to put what might have gone down between you in the past. Not content to view the main event on a monitor, you decide to watch what could be the crowning of your friend as the new heavyweight champion from up close, right out there with your fans.
You tug at the door to your locker room only to find it secured from the outside. You can't get out, you're trapped! Ice water creeps down your back as you realize who would want you out of the way while Jet competes for the gold. Frantically, you begin to lay into the door with expert kicks.
-----------
Your nipples are hardening. You stalk the halls of Madison Square Garden, a silent killer, ready to take the prize you have waited so long for. The covert tingling, the tightening below your stomach... it's an excitement you thought cauterized forever after a thousand Johns had had their way with you. Even the rampage with which you have secured your revenge couldn't have prepared you for the bloodlust you feel now.
You know they've ignored his suffering. Good. Let him suffer alone as you have. But more importantly, let yourself go unnoticed as you make your way closer and closer to his ultimate destruction. No help will come to him now, especially since you have nailed shut the door to Alex Kiseragi's locker room.
The only thing that turns your head as you move inexorably to the entrance curtain are monitors set up all over the backstage area. The match half the company dreaded, and the other half silently lauded, is raging toward it's end. In 55 inch 1080p clarity, you catch snatches of the back and forth, but you know, this time Somers will come out on top. And the fall, oh god the fall will be glorious...
x2