April 25, 2019, 12:55:20 PM

Author Topic: Bow to Leper Messiah  (Read 160 times)

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Offline Octavius Kreig

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Bow to Leper Messiah
« on: January 13, 2019, 12:59:25 AM »
Spineless from the start
Sucked into the part
Circus comes to town
You play the lead clown.


There are a number of times that when Wrigley looks back upon his life that really stick out and make him end up saying, “Damn Wrigley, what the hell were you thinking?”  One of the first that come to mind is a couple of years ago now when he got entrapped by that undercover female officer posing as an escort.  To make matters worse that Live PD camera came busting down the door like a goddamn raid for one the FBI’s most wanted, and he still can’t believe they got a live shot of his ass hanging out of his silk heart boxers too.

The next one that tends to come to mind is wife number three, or as Wrigley learned to call her the ‘soul-sucker straight from the Abyss’. Honestly, what the hell was he thinking?  That girl that probably spent her first five years in America giving happy endings at the hole in the wall Asian massage parlor that he first met her.  But damn, she sure did master that ancient palm grip technique. 

And then there’s this latest bad moment of his life.  The one that’s really got him thinking to himself, “Damn Wrigley, what the hell were you thinking?”  Now all he can door is stare at the dirty brick wall in front of him and shake his head in misery and distress.  Taking a drag from the mostly finished cigarette dangling from his lips, a nasty habit Wrigley picked up from Magnus, as he thinks about everything that has unfolded over the past twenty four hours.  From behind his glasses he looks up at the dirty brick wall before him and begins to just unleash what’s on his mind.

“Why the fuck did I answer that phone call?

I mean, I could have just stayed outside of that locker room pounding on the door until someone back there opened it up and then busted my ass until I found myself a new client.  Yeah, I could have done that I guess… hell, they would have to have come out of that room eventually after the show was over.  But then what?  More shit about about how I am bad luck?  More shit about how all my clients end up crippled or dead? 

For the record, none of them are dead… probably and only one of them is partially crippled.  Partially.  Like a slight limp for the rest of his life, hell he doesn’t even get one of those handicapped stickers for his car.  But that’s it.  Am I’m cursed?

So, why did I take that phone call and meet with this dude?  I’ll tell you why… because there was no other option for me to pick from to get back into the game. I took the damn call because there was no other way of getting back into 4CW, the largest stage in wrestling.”

Wrigley takes a long drag from the rest of his cigarette and pushes the remaining onto the brick wall in front of him. 

“...and that might have been the worst mistake I have ever fucking made in my life.”

He fumbles around for a couple of more moments with his hands, until he shoves another cigarette into his mouth and flips open his gold plated zippo lighter giving a quick breath to the cigarette he then holds the lighter up to the dirty brick wall in front of his face.  The light reveals a series of four straight chalk lines and one crossed them all, with his other hand he reaches up and scratches another chalk mark on the wall right next to the others.  Six in total.

“But at least I got me another client...

Yeah, I’m back in the fucking game.”

Wrigley nods at his surroundings and as the camera pans back, it is shown that those surroundings are nothing more than a rickety old metal spring cot, four tight brick walls and a pile of ashes in a tray just off to his right hand side.

We cut.


We fade in.

A figure sits hunched over the darkness of this place a single light source provides a way to see the man’s outline.  The rest is so dark that both a vast emptiness could be just beyond the tips of this man’s fingers or it could be a thousand people standing waiting there and you couldn’t be sure either way.  As the camera swings around the man, his face is seen looking down upon a book that he holds down with the pressure of his massive right hand.

“We are the hollow men… we are the stuffed men…”

A similar vibe to the ending of the ‘Apocalypse Now’ where the mad Colonel Kurtz reads aloud to a seemingly empty audience parts of T.S Eliot’s ‘Hollow Men’.  The man’s eyes look up from the book, for the next part is not from the book but from his own mind.  With a wicked gaze to the camera the unfamiliar man begins to speak.

“Hollow indeed. 

Brothers and sisters, I speak not to you as some high power nor do I speak to you like some frightened children sitting around a campfire listening to ghost stories.  No, my intention is to neither lecture you nor frighten you!  My intention is to simply guide all of you lower and lower into the Abyss until you take your proper places.  Every last one of you came to this place because your deeds have left you hollow on the inside, empty and without substance. 

You have chosen to ignore the problems of the world and focus only on what is truly important for a proper descent, yourselves.  Embrace your vices whatever they maybe, embrace your sins no matter how wicked they were, and never forget you past for it will always pull you down like an anchor faster and faster into the descent.

This is our creed, this is the way of House of Descent.  And I, Octavius Kreig, will lead you all into the bottomless pit of the Abyss.”

Kreig pauses, lifting his head up from the book and pulling back the hood that somewhat obscures his face and exposes a sinister smile to go along with those eyes.  Kreig’s long dreadlocked brown hair falls partially across his face and to the sides, his face is covered in a patchy scruff bread and there are a few obvious scars on his forehead and cheek.  He stands up from the podium he has been sitting near and throws out his arms to the sides holding his fists upwards, his arms are muscular and covered with a number of tattoos which weave a story of despair, distress and desperation from his upper arms down to his wrists.  At the end of his left hand his middle and ring fingers are stuck together and covered with a black leather scabbard that cannot be there for any good intentions. 

“Our time is upon us now to spread the word of the House of Descent to the masses, and soon we will decay the foundations of society until it can no longer stand upon itself, and when that happens… oh, my brothers and sisters when that happens, society will wobble and sway and will have no other outcome but to crumble in full descent. 

That time approaches soon.  I have been told by our newest member, Mister Wrigley, who is currently in the process of transformation that 4CW is the just the right place for us to reach up from the Abyss and grab a hold of with both hands to pull.  Mister Wrigley assures me that 4CW is full of the just the right type of people who are only in need of the slightest of pushes… nothing more than a light breeze… for them to embrace all of their sinful ways and descend with the rest of us.  Yes, my brothers and sisters, the fertile grounds of 4CW and its captive audience of millions will be the perfect place for the word to begin to metastasize rapidly.

And once the word is spread, once the Dreadnaught furrows its wings and engulfs the world, they will come running to our cause.  They will see that there is only one true way and it can only be found in the bottomless pit found within all of our souls!

We descend.

We descend.

We descend.”

Kreig stops his own chant, and from the darkness there a voices that respond with the same two words back towards their leader ‘we descend’ over and over a few times.  Kreig rocks back and stretches his neck towards the light above him gazing into the lights and soaking in the words of his his unseen followers.  Slowly, he takes those covered fingers of his left hand and holds them over his lips calling for the crowd to shush as well.

Silence falls upon the darkness once again.  For now, just the leader speaks.

“But where to begin?  Where oh where should the House of Descent begin with its infection?  Much like a thirsty mosquito on the hunt for blood, all we need is a perfect place to land.   Oh and there is such a perfect spot to which we land upon.  In the infinite tumblers of the all the combinations in the universe, fate has spun the dials and has handed the House of Descent the Maid of the Mists, Ally Gregory.

Oh Ally… Ally, Ally… was the first taste of defeat in 4CW not bad enough for you?  How long after your loss to Genie Carlson did it take for you to wash that bitter taste out?  Days, weeks… months?  I’m sure it made you question everything about yourself, I’m sure it drove you nuts every morning when you woke up and could still taste that on the tip of your tongue.  Must have driven you mad… but not for too long because it did wash away eventually, didn’t it?  Yeah, that can be the only explanation for your return to the 4CW shores once again.  That taste in your mouth has been forgotten, and the addict in you comes out and once again ready to prove that you’re cut out for this wicked place.”

Kreig pauses, his eyes lower to the camera.  The sadistic looking grin appears again.

“But this is the new Ally Gregory, isn’t it?  This is no longer just the woman with the impressive win streak and good looks to match.  No, no… this is now the Ally Gregory the mother of two and devoted wife of Tyson that returns to the shores of 4CW.  This is a different Ally Gregory that will stand across from me in the ring on January 23rd in the Motor City. This is an Ally Gregory who has conquered her own past and is ready to face the future.  This is an Ally Gregory who is not going to show any sort of fear in the face of me, is it?  Nah, you’re a champion and I’m… well, I’m not.

Yet, you reject your own descent.

I’m going to tell you an awful truth about what is going to happen on January 23rd, Ally.  All you are going to prove to the largest audience in professional wrestling that she is now a soccer mom driving around the suburbs in a minivan and playing it perfectly safe.  Safe, Ally.  That’s what you’ve become, Donna Reed would be so proud.  Safe within the bubble of your family that you have built around your body as a shell to hold back what you once were.  Safe is not going to allow for you to defeat me in that ring, I will crush safe in seconds and once again you have nothing but that taste in your mouth of what it is like to be beaten once more in 4CW.  That is the awful truth, Ally.

But, I’ll let you in on a little secret… I’m going to hand you everything you need to know in order to beat me, the unknown.  I will answer your question now of what’s an Octavius Kreig?  The first thing you should know is that it’s going to take a lot more than that to beat me, it’s going to take you forgetting to strap down those kids in the backseat of your minivan and forgetting about the pain in your ankles that you feel everytime you lace up your boots.  See, you’re going to have to embrace your past, you are going to have to forget about the safe person you have become and descend back to the time when you were an extreme wrestling goddess. 

Descend with me.

Descend with us.

Do not reject your past, but embrace the vices that it once brought you and what it could bring to you again..  That’s what these fans want to see, not safe Ally with the kids in the back and the faded beauty, no.  The fans want to see blood and violence brought down upon me by the likes of someone like you.  They want to see the things that only your past was capable of, they want to see the things that safe Ally would shield the eyes of your two precious children from and then complain about at one of her PTA meetings. 

All you must do is descend.

Oh yes, that’s what the descent will bring you… it will bring you back to the time before that bitter taste of defeat to Genie Carlson woke you up in the middle of the night, dragging you away from your husband, forcing you to drink endless amounts of water and stare into that mirror.  It is time once again to embrace the old Ally Gregory once again, to forsake every burden that holds you back and descend into that Abyss that you so dared to vacantly gazed into on those nights in front of the mirror.”

Kreig throws the few dangling dreadlocks that have fallen over his eyes backwards making sure that his gaze fixes onto that with the camera and there is nothing between them and the view.  He stops for a moment catching his breath on this sermon of his.  With a couple of deep gasps of air the tone of his voice changes that of frantic excitement, to of complete calm.

“For that is the way to defeat the Dreadnaught to descend to my level and fight me there in that Abyss.  I promise you victory that way, I do.  I promise you when you embrace the bloodshed and the violence of your past that you will win and erase the bitter taste of defeat here in 4CW.  And I promise you that the doors to the House of Descent will open up and welcome it’s newest member, Ally Gregory, into its ranks. 

For you will have done more to spread our word to the world in mere moments then I could have ever do in a hundred years!

You will have proved our righteous cause. 

Descend with me.

Descend with us.”

Slowly he extends his arms outwards to the sides into a pose very much like one would see in church each and every Sunday on a cross.

“I’m sure you’ll reject this notion.  I’m sure you’re going to play it safe against me.  So then, let me explain to you how it’s going to end for you on January 23rd in Detroit…

This is the way the world ends.”

Slowly he raises his left hand, the one with the black leather covering over his index and ring finger, his eyes and face look upwards towards it as he continues to speak.

“This is the way the world ends.”

Slowly he begins to lower his left hand towards his face, looking as if he is about to shove those two fingers right down his throat.

“This is the way the world ends.”

Sure enough, he doesn’t stop lowering his hand. His covered fingers touch his nose as his eyes fix on the camera and not his own hand.  He’s about to go full bulimic on the world and he’s going to stare directly into the eyes of everyone watching.

“Not with a bang, but a whim--”

Before he make out the rest of the word whimper, the fingers touch his tongue and continue to shove downwards causing him to choke and gag on them.  Only when the gagging comes do his eyes break that from the camera in front of him, he continues to choke on his own hand as the camera fades to black.