Post by Jet Somers on Aug 5, 2010 16:49:00 GMT -5
It's moments before the grudge match between Alex Kiseragi and Travis Pierce at In Your Hands, but Jet is now only tangentially aware of the events that are flowing around him. She was here, and she owed him a life.
She had searched out someone close to him and dispatched her quickly, but made sure to make a spectacle of it. She wanted the murder to be found out. She wanted him to know it was her. Offing his sparring partner, Gian, would only be an inconsequentail chore. Her next strike, it only stood to reason, would be against someone he cared about here. Someone he considered a friend, even if that was as close as he let anyone in this business get. Not Hastings. Donovan and Jet merely saw eye to eye often enough to know when working together would be mutually beneficial. No, Jet was sure Melanie would go after either The Aussie Rebels, or...
He kicks in the door to Alex Kiseragi's dressing room. He barely registers The Dragon, who, until he was rudely interrupted, was preparing for the match now only seconds away from kicking off. Jet sets to work with reckless abandon, tossing over the couch, tearing the doors and clothing from the wardrobe, ripping down the shower curtain in the bathroom. Once he has searched every nook and cranny of the former Cross-Hemisphere Champion's room--Melanie is quite petite, after all--he finally notices A-Kis staring at him aghast. Sighs and goes to leave, but not before tossing a warning over his shoulder.
"Watch your back, Alex."
----------
For over a week he has floated through his life and duties in a state of shock. He has given up turning to Forewell Boding for leads and information. He wanted her to find him, show her face, so he could bury his fists in it over and over again. He sits now at the dining table in his apartment, slouched back in a posture of defeat, hands dangling forgotten at his sides. An open but neglected Tropicana orange juice leaks a puddle of condensation on the table before him.
The worst part was, although he knew what was happening, the authorities had nothing to go on. No one could do anything about it. Working for not one, but two criminal masterminds, criminal businessmen, really, had made Melanie dangerously clever.
And to top it off, who should he have to put himself on display with this week but Phrixus Deimos... again.
"The man who wishes to claim to be the architect of my late return to brutality," Jet mutters, "Simply because he backed me into a corner and pissed me off enough to cause me to raise a weapon in defense of my title. If you buy into Deimos' sense of entitlement, you would believe he had installed the current champions of this organization himself, one by one. So great is his ego, that he fails to see the world outside the arena and acknowledge all the events which lead to a person's rise or fall. We only get snippets of his thoughts regarding the current events of UGWC, peppered here and there with reminiscence regarding the largely unimportant histories of one single veteran in this sport. Of his own life, experiences, or distractions, we have no knowledge. Is it because Deimos wishes to maintain a mysterious persona, or simply because he doesn't find his life outside the ring all that important? While I might agree with him, if that were the case, it renders him largely one dimensional."
"Of course, this has little to do with his ability to compete," Jet shrugs, carrying on the conversation with himself in body language as well, "I wasn't too far gone in my focus to miss the fact that he finally captured the top prize, and fair deserved was he to win it. Would that this were a title match this week on Synergy. Perhaps then, if he were able to defend against someone who, so far has given him a great deal of competition, I could then brag of my installing a worthy champion. Because we all know the biggest champion isn't defined by his physical prowess, his ability to obtain the strap, or how well he presents himself to the company at large, but by how well he can defend his position. On the other hand, if he weren't able to defend, then of course the upshot is I would become--"
Jet snaps his head up. This is it. She's pushing him, just like Dirge and Raenius pushed him. She wants him unhinged. He could feel himself starting to lose control again anyway, but this time, with no sister to protect, no moral victory to claim, no honorable agenda to defend, and almost no choice, what's to stop him? Now he knows what she wants: to back him into a corner, just like Fear did last month, only so he'll use it to succeed and climb higher. She wants him as high on a pedestal as possible, so it will taste that much sweeter when she knocks him off it. Well, he can give her that. How high must he climb before he draws her out into the open. Why not the highest?
For the first time in over a week, a smile begins to play on his face. Only this time, it's not the trademark, goofy Opie grin that melts the heart of anyone who sees it. This smile is cold, cunning, calculating.
"Why not?" he asks the empty room, "Why shouldn't I make a play for it? From the interview Pierce conducted, Deimos obviously thinks I'm becoming too unstable to still focus on my contractual obligations, but if he were to turn away from his video collection of Donovan Hastings for moment and take a look at my albeit short career, he might be impressed by my nearly perfect record. The truth is, when I sink my teeth into something, I don't let go, and I've already proven that repeatedly. He can see me beaten, but with our 2-1 record, and this motivation, I can see him beaten down and bloody. How will he feel when I sink my teeth into his prize?"
She had searched out someone close to him and dispatched her quickly, but made sure to make a spectacle of it. She wanted the murder to be found out. She wanted him to know it was her. Offing his sparring partner, Gian, would only be an inconsequentail chore. Her next strike, it only stood to reason, would be against someone he cared about here. Someone he considered a friend, even if that was as close as he let anyone in this business get. Not Hastings. Donovan and Jet merely saw eye to eye often enough to know when working together would be mutually beneficial. No, Jet was sure Melanie would go after either The Aussie Rebels, or...
He kicks in the door to Alex Kiseragi's dressing room. He barely registers The Dragon, who, until he was rudely interrupted, was preparing for the match now only seconds away from kicking off. Jet sets to work with reckless abandon, tossing over the couch, tearing the doors and clothing from the wardrobe, ripping down the shower curtain in the bathroom. Once he has searched every nook and cranny of the former Cross-Hemisphere Champion's room--Melanie is quite petite, after all--he finally notices A-Kis staring at him aghast. Sighs and goes to leave, but not before tossing a warning over his shoulder.
"Watch your back, Alex."
----------
For over a week he has floated through his life and duties in a state of shock. He has given up turning to Forewell Boding for leads and information. He wanted her to find him, show her face, so he could bury his fists in it over and over again. He sits now at the dining table in his apartment, slouched back in a posture of defeat, hands dangling forgotten at his sides. An open but neglected Tropicana orange juice leaks a puddle of condensation on the table before him.
The worst part was, although he knew what was happening, the authorities had nothing to go on. No one could do anything about it. Working for not one, but two criminal masterminds, criminal businessmen, really, had made Melanie dangerously clever.
And to top it off, who should he have to put himself on display with this week but Phrixus Deimos... again.
"The man who wishes to claim to be the architect of my late return to brutality," Jet mutters, "Simply because he backed me into a corner and pissed me off enough to cause me to raise a weapon in defense of my title. If you buy into Deimos' sense of entitlement, you would believe he had installed the current champions of this organization himself, one by one. So great is his ego, that he fails to see the world outside the arena and acknowledge all the events which lead to a person's rise or fall. We only get snippets of his thoughts regarding the current events of UGWC, peppered here and there with reminiscence regarding the largely unimportant histories of one single veteran in this sport. Of his own life, experiences, or distractions, we have no knowledge. Is it because Deimos wishes to maintain a mysterious persona, or simply because he doesn't find his life outside the ring all that important? While I might agree with him, if that were the case, it renders him largely one dimensional."
"Of course, this has little to do with his ability to compete," Jet shrugs, carrying on the conversation with himself in body language as well, "I wasn't too far gone in my focus to miss the fact that he finally captured the top prize, and fair deserved was he to win it. Would that this were a title match this week on Synergy. Perhaps then, if he were able to defend against someone who, so far has given him a great deal of competition, I could then brag of my installing a worthy champion. Because we all know the biggest champion isn't defined by his physical prowess, his ability to obtain the strap, or how well he presents himself to the company at large, but by how well he can defend his position. On the other hand, if he weren't able to defend, then of course the upshot is I would become--"
Jet snaps his head up. This is it. She's pushing him, just like Dirge and Raenius pushed him. She wants him unhinged. He could feel himself starting to lose control again anyway, but this time, with no sister to protect, no moral victory to claim, no honorable agenda to defend, and almost no choice, what's to stop him? Now he knows what she wants: to back him into a corner, just like Fear did last month, only so he'll use it to succeed and climb higher. She wants him as high on a pedestal as possible, so it will taste that much sweeter when she knocks him off it. Well, he can give her that. How high must he climb before he draws her out into the open. Why not the highest?
For the first time in over a week, a smile begins to play on his face. Only this time, it's not the trademark, goofy Opie grin that melts the heart of anyone who sees it. This smile is cold, cunning, calculating.
"Why not?" he asks the empty room, "Why shouldn't I make a play for it? From the interview Pierce conducted, Deimos obviously thinks I'm becoming too unstable to still focus on my contractual obligations, but if he were to turn away from his video collection of Donovan Hastings for moment and take a look at my albeit short career, he might be impressed by my nearly perfect record. The truth is, when I sink my teeth into something, I don't let go, and I've already proven that repeatedly. He can see me beaten, but with our 2-1 record, and this motivation, I can see him beaten down and bloody. How will he feel when I sink my teeth into his prize?"