January 26, 2020, 02:06:09 PM

Author Topic: Blood On The Walls  (Read 219 times)

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Offline Elijah Carlson

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Blood On The Walls
« on: August 21, 2019, 10:12:11 PM »
An overhead light swings, creaking from a long rusted chain as the bulb flickers, dims, extinguishes and bursts back to life in no particular sequence. As it swings it illuminates to a greater and lesser extent based on the point it is at in its slow swinging trajectory the four corners of a concrete wall. A large, steel door with a small window in it allows a minute amount of dim light in from the corridor outside of the room. More importantly, however, as the light swings it gives a glimpse of congealed, brownish red streaks that are slathered on the concrete walls.

A dull hum emanates from the light fixture as it flickers and goes completely dark. Moments pass and the viewing audience can feel their heart rate start to accelerate, almost as though they were trapped in the suddenly darkened room with no way out. Whispers bounce too and fro around the room in the darkness, some drawing close and raising the hairs on the backs of the necks of those watching at home, unable to look away or change the channel from their own curiosity. The words are indistinguishable for a time before the steadily gather, forming into a constant, rhythmic, demand gradually rising in volume.

“kill...Kill…. KILL!”

The light, on the final word, bursts back to full brightness, humming as though electricity far beyond its ability to contain pulses through it before the glass bulb shatters, sparks flying everywhere, as the scene once more is plunged into darkness. This time, the quiet whispers are replaced by laughter, unhinged and joyful, reverberates around the room. That laughter shifts as the man behind it reigns it in and forces it to submit to his will, though he has yet to be seen. Shortly afterward his voice emanates in the darkness. His location can’t be determined but it’s almost as though he’s directly beside each and every person who is watching.

“Sky force… SKY FORCE! Welcome, my little pets. Welcome to a world unlike anything you have yet to experience. They call this tournament of ours Bad Company. A fitting name, I think, given the nature of so many in it. Chaotic. Uncontrolled. In a place where the best, and the most toxic, have come and thrived. A place where chaos reigns supreme. A place where fairy tales go to die. Oh, my little pets, Bad Company is no place for you. Bad Company is a place that you should have avoided at all costs. Bad Company was never the right opportunity for you to dip your toes in the waters of 4CW, that you might be able to say that you’ve competed in the same place as legends of the industry.”

Cackling, there’s footfalls in the darkness that rapidly draw closer. The heavy breathing of the human that the voice belonged to causing the camera lens to steam up. In the darkness the light fixture above continues to swing, now unseen, creaking eerily in the dark that is as heavy as a blanket.

“This is no place for innocents like you. Children playing at a mans game. Sometimes, though, children need to learn tough lessons. Sometimes children need to grab the pan that is hot, so that they learn not to go near it again. You, through poor luck or the fates being against you, find yourself pitted against a man who THRIVES in chaos. A man who has made a career of taking the trinkets, the hopes, and the dreams of those around him and ripping it from their desperate, pleading fingers. Ask Elena DeDraca what it is like to stand in the ring across from Kaven Drell when the crowd is screaming for me to maim. Ask Kimitsu Zombie what it is like to have a stout heart and a determined mind when I am ripping your hopes and dreams to shreds before your very eyes. Ask Mi-”

Suddenly the large concrete door rumbles open and another figure with a flashlight steps onto the scene. He is younger and far too curious for his own good. But he shines the light directly on the bald bearded man who had been enjoying the darkness, speaking to their opponents.

“Kaven? What the hell is this shit?”

The big bearded man, better known as Kaven Drell, sniffs at the younger man in annoyance.

“Idiot boy. I’m speaking to our opponents. Shut of the light you fool. Shut it off.”

“Why? Is it killing the spooky vibe?”

Drell scowls at his partner and saunters away, giving his attention to the congealed smudges and smears on the wall.

“Whatever. I don’t know why I let myself be talked into this but here we are. As much as I hate to admit it because as you probably already heard Kaven loves to jerk himself off with the blood of his enemies, but he’s not wrong. He’s achieved greatness in a short amount of time. My family thinks I might learn from him. That we might be two men cut from the same cloth.”

Toby glances over in the direction of his partner who is paying him no mind, and he shakes his head obviously not quite certain that he wants to end up in the same mental states as his partner.

“I don’t need to hide in the darkness to tell you all how truly fucked you are in this tournament. I may be new but I’m not stupid. Kaven and I share a pension for violence and seeing narcissists get what’s coming to them. I don’t really give a fuck about taking this industry by storm overnight. The term super rookie makes me cringe but there’s a million dollars in this for me and Kaven and I love money almost more than the violence I picture doing to all of you in this tournament. Almost.”

The mention of violence draws Kavens attention back to him, and he saunters over to the younger man, staring at him with a look of glee forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Sky Force sounds like some juvenile stupid fucking children’s cartoon. Half your team names are just as big of jokes as this one. You want so bad to have a marketable brand because you’re counting your chickens before they hatch and assuming you’ve already won this tournament. Kaven and I? We don’t need the smoke and mirrors of a name. We simply are who we are. The current 4CW Tag Team Champions are jokes. Their presence on social media alone puts you at high risk of getting brain cancer. They carry themselves like complete dopes online to make people think they are that way and somehow they manage to beat some of the biggest names when they step into the ring. It’s time to pierce that veil. It’s time to make the American Mangs have a really bad night.”

Clapping happily, Kaven nods, not only are his eyes alight with glee but his lip is curved upward in a sneer, clearly enjoying what he’s hearing out of his new friend.

“I’m not hungry for this win. I just want to be the pestering inconvenience that fucks up everyone’s carefully laid plans. My motivation is simply to maim and torture you all with the fact a rookie and his psychotic acquaintance crushed your dreams for glory. Reedvolution, The Pot Smokers, Dark Side of the Moon, The Conglomerate. All with high profile names that I’m itching to make look like complete idiots. More than they do. Now Kaven? He just wants to kill you. I’ll line you all up for the slaughter though, happily. Don’t underestimate what I am capable of when you wave a thing like a million dollars in front of my face. Not to mention the promise of a new title for my friend Kaven here means he might actually have something to get the attention of a special girl he’s had his eye on, right bud?”

At the mention of a special girl Kavens face suddenly goes dark and he growls in the direction of Toby.

“Tiny trinkets. Little baubles. They’re all meant to be mine. Mine because you all want them so desperately. You all want to call yourselves the Bad Company tournament winners. But me? I’m here to dance in the pieces of your shattered dreams. I’m here to bathe in the sounds of your horrified screams as you watch while I take everything you wanted for my own.”

Nodding over and over, Kaven finally snaps his fingers and lining the ceiling, dim lights come to life, fully illuminating the smudges and smears on the wall. Drell hurries over to one area in particular where the name Sky Force is written. But his finger points around the room, and it becomes clear that the name of every other tag team is written on the wall as well.

“The writing in your blood is already on the walls. Now we come to spill it.”