August 15, 2018, 03:07:16 AM

Author Topic: Razorblade Salvation  (Read 127 times)

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Offline Zombie

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Razorblade Salvation
« on: January 16, 2018, 11:36:41 AM »
Every time American Tommy opened his home now he shared his bed with a shell of a woman. She was all emotion and  impulse. She tried to hide it well behind the made up face. She rarely smiled when she was out in the world, but now it was almost never. Only to reassure Tommy. Only to make him believe she still had a soul. If she was honest with herself, he was one of the only reasons she was still clinging on. Without him, and without her close friends, she would have been lost for good. She hated him for it almost as much as she liked him. When they first met, she would never have believed that it would turn out like this. She would never have believed that she would feel admiration towards him. Or envy.

Kimitsu Zombie sat on the bed watching over Tommy as he slept. It was pitch black until she clicked her lighter on and off. Every time the light came on her face was a mix of anger, wonderment, and fear. After a while it was just passive like she was in a trance. American Tommyís success in the wrestling world was in direct contrast to her  failures. Every since Fright Night theyíve been on a different path. His was a path of victory and hers of failure, aloofness and realization, joy and pain. She was so proud of him at the same time. It was tough to hold his success against him just because she hated losing so much.

ďEvery single fucking match.Ē

Tommy woke up with the constant flicking and light. Kimitsu covered up her actions by quickly reaching for a cigarette. She tried to light it but the fire wouldnít come on. She tried again and again, and suddenly she was there again ready to sacrifice the man for the myth. Did her obsession distract her too much from winning? Why wouldnít the fucking thing come on? Tommy turned in the bed to face her and watched her struggle.

ďYou should get a better lighter, babe.Ē

Kimitsu stared at him for a few seconds before she finally cracked. She screamed at the top of her lungs with all her strength. She wasnít hearing it herself and just shut her eyes and let it out. The room shook with a ringing in her ears. Her eyes were clamped tighter than her fitsts. Her throat became coarse and dry but she tried to get louder. She filled up. It was coping. This wasnít the zen approach of Tokyo Zombie. This was the brash quick fix her mother taught her. Instead of crying about her problems like a schoolgirl or a housewife, and getting a smack, she would just do this and let everything out of her. Emotions made her weak, anyway. She didnít need them. After a flash and darkness the rage died down inside of her along with the primal instinct to kill. She looked at Tommy and he was safe. The scream was the only outcome. He stared back with his hands over his ears. He opened his mouth to say something but he didnít. His last comment must have not gone over well so he kept quiet. She turned her back to him on bed so that he didnít see her shame. Tommy moved sideways and sprawled out his hand next to her so that she saw it. She took it and they stayed awake for the rest of the morning.

A promise and a kiss was all it took to let her leave his place by herself. She wondered if he would stay in this after seeing all of her. When would she lose her appeal with him? When would she lose her appeal with the audience, for that matter? It was another match full of promises unfulfilled. The only person she satisfied was her opponent, Dakota fucking Smith. She always wondered if what she did was enough. She knew she didn't have that many supporters left. How many matches would it take for her to lose them all? She was taught that winning a match shouldnít  have always been the goal, but what good is a lesson to an opponent without the proof. She felt that she was losing credibility fast. She was thankful that people still flocked to her. She fought her hardest every single match but she wasn't sure that she could keep going like this. There were more opportunities see the future, to be sure. When she thought on the future it was all the same. There was no fear or anxiety it was just anger.

Fuck it. It wasnít the time for that. It was time for Cashe. She records herself walking through the streets and taking the train to the Field Museum of Natural History. There is a montage as she walks through the crowd looking at random exhibits until she finds the one she is looking for.

ďItís time to finish getting learned. I should have seen this match coming. First it was Jair. Then Dakota. And now I face the last remaining member of 4CWís Hall of Fame. I wonder when it was that they got the idea. Itís really smart. It makes me put my money where my mouth is and, so far, I am coming up short. I lost fairly. Jair surprised me. Dakota survived me. Viduus had enough sense to wait after my match to play his little games. I see this but the one thing I will not do is accept it. Did you see those two patting each other on their backs after my match with Dakota? They were coming off on a high from their ordeals so I donít blame them. I wonder how that conversation would have gone if they lost. Especially with Dakota burned to a crisp. People say that losses do not matter to them. They put up the appearances on social media that it is a lesson to be learned and that next time they will be better. They promise these things like they are televangelists selling their snake oil.

ďYet there is no promise of that. Next time could be worse. Then next time it is worse still. Let me tell you how it is from someone who knows. These losses eat at you until you have no more confidence left. You come up next time only to be shot down again and again. So what do you do? Do you quit? Take a breather like most people do after it gets tough? What do I do? Well, me I get pissed off. I do not run on confidence. I run on anger. I know I should be winning these things. No matter what they say, they are still relics and after they went to the back and sucked each otherís shriveled dicks, Dakota Smith and Jair Hopkins went home to their women and breathed a big sigh of relief. The audience breathed a sigh of relief. They still had their heroes. They still had that story to continue in their minds. They were still the fans of winners. Change is a horrible thing to see. After rooting for someone for so long it is a drag to see them go down. Sorry Zombie fans.

Do you know who had the fattest sigh of the biggest relief? Perry Wallace. His Hall of Famers were still doing their thing. The mystique of 4CW was still strong. This company, built on the backs of these men, was still safe. They held their own and I signed the contract to these matches a long time ago with my words. I implied that the old is irrelevant. I promised that I would bury these men with their storied careers and records. I would build my legacy on top of their graves. I would shut them up for once after they go on and on about how many times they fought some son of a bitch and beat another dickhead for the 4CW Championship. I get it. It is hard to win a title here but it is easy as well. I know how. Anyway, someone heard me. I fought against the so remaining few and I am being made an example of. Still. I am not showing them they are right. Not yet.Ē

Kimitsu walks down a few steps then looks around. A couple dozen Terracotta Warriors from the exhibition on Chinese history fill up the space. The red statues are lined in perfect formation. Even with the wear and tear they have they look formidable as they stand forever silent in rank. The most impressive ones are the ones on horseback leading them, and that each soldier has different looks or details.

ďDonít worry, folks, I am not going to smash these replicas. That is so 2017. I just came here to show you how paranoid someone can be. This is about the first emperor of China. As you may know, he had these things built around his tomb so that they can protect him in the afterlife. Can you imagine that level of paranoia? This here represents us in 4 Corners. Perfect little statues ready to go to war. One man embodies this spirit more than anyone. Thatís Jason Cashe, of course. This is the last Hall of Famer that I am to fight last. This is the reluctant one. For a man that touts the company so much itís a shame he would reject something like that. Donít worry about forgetting that he is a 3 time 4CW Champion. Heíll remind you of that, plenty of times. I think he knows what getting that Hall of Fame nod means. Itís like a message that your time is up. Itís time to start building up your army for the afterlife and stashing all your shit. Jair is almost due. Dakota isnít the same. So whatís your endgame?

ďThis honor is also a beacon. It means you are the one to beat here. It earns you respect automatically. Cashe doesnít appreciate this, but me? Iím getting that lesson first hand.Ē

She comes up to a soldier that has a long jaw. The artist that sculpted the replica must have been looking at the wrong model because the face on this thing was all wide eyes and slack jaw. Kimitsu points at him.

ďOh, Cashe. What can be said about you that hasnít been said about an STD like crabs? Being on the roster with you is the gift that keeps on giving. You may have forgotten this, but my first impression of you was before my friend killed a bit of your spirit and you were high on yourself.  You were at your worst going at everything on your precious twitter and treating it like an actual contest and your life depended on it. So my old company closed and people were coming to terms with the news. Attention was being diverted on something important so here comes everyoneís favorite monkey to shit on it. Thatís what you used to do. You piled your shit on with so many elongated made up words and, I think they were bird calls typed out? You carried on so much and compared follower numbers like you were comparing ratings. Itís all about time but that doesnít matter. People follow you in the same way that people slow down at a car wreck. Theyíre watching a great tragedy right before their eyes. I see your promo work now that I did end up joining 4CW, and itís much of the same. You dance, holler, and hump things until you get tired out. People smile at first and then they just stare with a grimace. Thatís disgust. Enough people have come here that you are suddenly not as important. They do you way better than you ever could.Ē

She stops and fails to contain a chuckle.

ďCanít wait to see the twitter stream after this one. You might even give Banks after a bender a run for his money.

ďYou donít care, though. Itís good that you donít care. I like to know your feelings arenít hurt. You get people watching no matter what, right? Thatís why they put up with you here. People like Perry and Jair put up with you because theyíve grown accustomed to the itch. The sickness is embedded in their brains. Theyíll pull your weight on a tag team. Theyíll put up with the antics when we go live, and complaints from the concerned moms of America. You may be trying to carry 4CW but the weight of it is crushing you down into mush. You canít hack it anymore, guy. Not with us. You are the freak show used to distract people while they are setting up the real show. Thereís only so much shitting you can do on air before they get disgusted and bring out the main attractions. You were one of the good ones once. Your record of accolades from 2 or 3 years ago speaks for itself. Did the women mess you up that much? Have you gotten so tired from the shit slinging that you donít have that retard sting you once did? Has it lost the appeal for you like it has for the audience?Ē

Kimitsu pats the fake soldierís head and keeps walking along the line.

ďWe are similar, in a way. Iíve had my ups and downs in the short time that Iíve been here. I see what you were talking about that makes 4CW specialÖ I think I should clarify that itís not your kind of special, but real special. Itís enough to make people come here to test themselves. The old heads were tested and they seem to be doing fine right now. I got here at a time when you were at the downward spiral. Then an old enemy gave you a hand and gave you a title. That was impressive and I congratulated you. Then I went on a little downward spiral of my own. Now it is my turn to fight back, and my attitude is different towards you.Ē

Kimitsu is finished looking at the exhibit and goes out to sit on a cold bench outside. She lights a cigarette on the first try despite the wind. She watches a group of special needs kids getting on a tiny bus as she talks.

ďShit, they do exist. I thought those types of buses were a joke or something. Anyway, back to us. You seem to be poised for a return to your old ways, here. You still got some clout with the other titles you got and thatís good. I would acknowledge that but you know how you sometimes reject anything not 4CW when itís not in your favor? Letís do that here. You  have fallen off quite a bit in 4CW. Iím looking to get back to my championship winning ways like you are, even though it will break your oath. We need a reset. You are getting a reboot after that little fiasco with a friend of mine, and Iím just living on the fumes of competition. So how do we get ourselves going? I might be doing this for Marquis, right? Like I tried to do with Phoenix? Nope. She is fine by herself. I think she is glad to be done with you for good. What else? You can say that after all these loses anything I say about myself will be lies and posturing. You can say that I donít matter anymore and that I should just pack up and go instead of you guys. You can tell me that the only thing Iíve shown is that Iím weak.

ďYou can say these things and youíd be wrong. It is true that I am devastated that Iím on this losing streak, but I am not showing that I am weak.  This is farthest from the truth. You all remember me when I step into the ring with you. A win over me still means something. I propelled Jair into that win over Bronx. I was that wake up call that he needed to step up again. I proved to Dakota that he might just be desperate enough as a man to keep on going. You? I can show you that my will is something dangerous, especially when I get riled up. Iím going to give you everything Iíve got left, Cashe. I canít say Iíve been looking forward to facing you like I did with Dakota Smith, or even Alessandro.

ďThis match, in the opener of the show, is going to be one of the most important matches of my career because I will not be letting these loses define me. You were the most winningest person here but I am only getting a shadow of you. If you want the spotlight to shine on you again youíre going to have to reach back into that memory of the old Jason Cashe and show them all that you are not still a joke. Donít fucking settle for an emoji and a ďlol.Ē Donít even look for that one fan that claps at your every idiotic fucking fart. Look to the the locker room. I want you to try and regain the respect of the other fighters back there that have written you off. There are plenty of people like me, and Iím not just talking about the new blood either. Youíve lost a lot of that Ďspecialí quality that you had and the reputation has taken a hit that is way worse than the one mine has taken. Donít let people roll their eyes like I did when they see your name across from theirs on the cards. In short, I want you to give a fuck because this is what I will be denying you on Adrenaline 79. When I win this match your comeback will be nothing and you will still be just the monkey on the leash dancing for chump change.Ē

She gets up off the bench and approaches the bus.

ďNow letís see if I can get on the short bus with those for real special kids because we ARE fucking going there, Cashe. You stupid motherfuckerĒ