October 21, 2018, 01:52:23 PM

Author Topic: Drowning in Delusions  (Read 75 times)

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Offline HIGHlarious

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Drowning in Delusions
« on: August 10, 2018, 08:54:58 PM »
The faint sound of a rat squeaking and scurrying away echoes throughout the damp open area of the sewer. The cement ceilings dripped a toxic sludge of who knows what onto the floor, and the lighting was give or miss - relying on decade old equipment. Remnants of when the this sewer system was being built. Dakota sat with his knees up against his chest, there were no corners in this circular room so he leaned his back up against an old out of place schooldesk. Scattered throughout the room are the children of the now dead Smith Family. Each with a “DS” scarred into their forehead. They seem to be doing something, but you couldn't tell what. Dakota looked up at them, peering out from behind dark, sweat drenched hair.  “ None of this is real.”

The children stop what they are doing and look over at Dakota, all at the same time. It was rather erie the way they stared at the butcher, their lifeless eyes glaring through his very soul. After a few seconds of building tension the children laugh, all speaking in unison. “ You chose this. “ After speaking those words they all go back to doing their tasks.

Dakota leans his head up against the wall and let his legs slide out flat. He goes to raise his arms up but has a little trouble doing so. He fights through the pain however and slams his hands down on his legs with a loud “THWACK” that echoes throughout the room. A devilish grin slowly creeps onto his face as he pushes his hair out of his eyes and stares into the camera.

 “ BattleBorn, a name that has etched itself a pretty nice spot inside of my 4CW. Two guys who don’t have half of the experience as Omerta, but as a tag-team…Their praise is high, why? Because they beat a bunch of dying tag-teams on their last legs? They put out the horses with broken legs? Just because ol’ Jeb can hold that shotgun, doesn’t mean he has enough bullets to kill me. Or riddle for that fact. Because you see, Omerta isn’t something that is alive or dead. It’s something that will exist long after me and Cy fade away. It’s a code, a brotherhood. We are not a tag-team… We are family bound by blood, and the hatred of anyone who stands in our way.”

Reaching into the pocket of his faded green cargo pants, Dakota pulls out a pack of cigarettes and pops one in between his lips. He snaps his fingers and one of the children run over with a lighter, setting his cigarette ablaze for him. Dakota shoes the child away as he takes in a long, deep inhale of the tobacco smoke. That devilish smile twists into a vicious snarl as smoke seeps out from his nostrils.

 “ Cosmo I’ll get to your shining star here in a bit, but first let's talk about you Jebediah. Let’s talk about your father Bob, and how he called me his master - because he was nothing more than a slave to me. A old man to be used for whatever purpose I had for him. Any task I didn’t feel like doing, I had good old Bob to get it done for me. And when Bob came to me and said that his pride and joy Jeb was getting out, and asked me if I could get him a place inside DreadCity. I did so, because Bob was getting old… And I needed a new whipping boy. So It’s a real shame that it has taken you this long to work your way up to me, this long to make it to the big time! You think that tag-team championship means something? BattleBorn means something? “

Taking another drag off of his cigarette, Dakota pushes himself up the wall so that he is now standing. You could see the lingering pain of war as he rolled his head around his neck - loud cracks once again echoing throughout the room.

 “Maybe it means something to all of the maggots in attendance, or to all the other tag-teams at Bad Company. But Omerta? To Dakota Smith and Cyrus Riddle? It doesn’t mean jack shit! Because we are titans of this industry, violent killers ready to take a life at moments notice. Cosmo doesn’t have what it takes to deal with a real killer, he thinks because he is teamed up with you, that it gives him any sort of cred? Any sort of respect! Fuck that! “ The butcher clears his throat and spits a mixture of blood and mucus onto the sewer floor, before flaring his nostrils as a fire grows in his eyes.  “ You don’t have my respect Jebediah! All the work you’ve put in, everything you’ve done? It’s been because I allowed you to do so. Remember that, you have a tag on your life - and at anytime I could fuckin’ pull your slip. And then no more Jebediah Fisher!”

Cooling down a bit Dakota walks forward with a limp - using the wall to push himself forward. ,He paid the children no mind as if they weren’t even there. Just background noise, his focus solely on the camera. With violent jerk he pulls the cigarette from his lips and flicks it off into the distance. A disturbed cackle suddenly gets released from deep inside The Butcher, enough so that it sends a tremor down his whole body. Dakota licks his lips in a very suggestive manner as he begins to speak once again.

 “ Then there's you my shining star, Cosmo Cooper. Shining so god damn bright, but burning up twice as fast. It’s been noticeable in every match you’ve had here, your only real success inside a 4CW ring - comes with being paired of with Jeb. Cosmo Cooper will never be a name remembered inside of 4CW, BattleBorn maybe… But you? You are just another man who came in here with so much hype, and have failed time and time again to prove it! Just like AQ! And we all saw what happen to him, when he stepped foot inside the ring with the most dangerous man in 4CW. I dragged his bloody and beaten body from post to post and put him the fuck down! So much so that changed his priorities in life, you think that is just coincidence? When you meet the face of death, it changes you.  “

Dakota stops near the center of the room, he looks up at the sewer grate which hangs above - through its bars you could see glimpses of the stars above, and the night time sky. Dakota closes his eyes and took a deep breath, you could see his muscles twitching as a discomfort rose up his body. When his eyes reopened they are blood red, as if he had blown both blood vessels in his eyes.

 “You are going to need to change Cosmo, because Jeb won’t always be there to do what needs to be done. He won’t always be there to save you! And at any point in this match, Cyrus or I could scar that pretty little face of yours up, and then that is just one more thing you won’t have! Because you are talented, you are the brightest burning star in this company! But soon you will fade away, and all that will be remembered is a tag-team with a guy who would rather fuck you… Than wrestle with you. You couldn’t beat Craig, you couldn’t beat Kaz… And you and Jeb Combined won’t beat Dakota Smith and Cyrus Riddle. We aren't the Carlsons, we won’t shit talk on twitter and then fail to back it up. Everything we say, comes into furitision. One way or another. So you better keep those belts close, hold them tight. Because Omerta… is coming for you. And like everything else, BattleBorn… Will die.”

Dakota blows a kiss to the camera as a smirk grows on his lips, there is then the sound of a loud vibration. Dakota digs his hand back into his pants pocket and pulls out his phone, the screen reads. “ Please come home soon.”

CUT TO BLACK