Post by AlphaBeta on Sept 17, 2011 9:30:00 GMT
Ryan sat alone in his locker room, back to his locker, head moving back and forth. Each time he swung it back a small clang rung throughout the room. He had to be ready tonight. If he wanted to get a shot at the World Class title at Aggression then he was required to not only bring his A game, but to aim for that A+. A++, if it was possible. Stone wasn't a slouch, Ryan knew it. The man maybe didn't know what he was speaking of, saying Ryan was on the decline of his career and was no longer wanted, but there was no taking away from his raw ability. He had to be ready for the First Blood match.
First Blood.
Why did Stone pick this match? Because of Aggression's Crimson Cup, which RB was scheduled to appear in. Why was Ryan put into the match for the Crimson Cup? Because of his past. His mental and emotional issues that he had suffered through his whole life, the same issues that came to surface on camera last year. He didn't understand why people wanted to see him in a match with a win only occurring with blood. With the prize being a crimson mask. He couldn't understand it. Didn't they see what he used to be? Couldn't they recognize the effort that he put into changing himself, bettering himself? They had to know this type of fight would do some sort of psychological damage to Ryan.
The lids of his eyes shut tight and his mouth twisted into a knot. The banging against the locker became quicker, heavier, louder. BLOOD. His mind was racing with all the things that he had gotten rid of. All the fun little demons that would poke and prod, trying to get a reaction. The little demons that guided him to destroying something beautiful. Destroying his sister. Destroying what little bond they had left. Ever since last years Night of Legends, Tiff Blaze had moved to England permanently to take care of Lionheart's kid. She was his nanny. She was his bitch.
FUCKIN' CUNT.[/SIZE][/B][/FONT]
His eyes snapped open. He was worried. He instantly leaves his ass, rising to his feet, and begins pacing. That old guy was dead. Why was he worrying about it?
I'm a Hero.
I'm loved.
I'm needed.
I'm one of a kind.
I'm a legend in this industry.
I won't ever be forgotten.
I..
...
I ffff-
I ffffff-
I ff-fffff-feel the s-
I ff-feel the s-ss-ss-sssssame.
The same as[/b] ALWAYS.[/b][/font]
The burning sensation in his ears, along his cheeks and on his neck was nothing new to him. It was actually rather common. He felt this when he was angry. When he was filled with 100% rage. He felt this same feeling when he destroyed his sisters face with a knife. When he killed his father. When he put Bobby Williams on the shelf. He felt this heat along his face and neck when he was feeling destructive.
But it made no sense? He had learned to control his angry and rage. He had learned to turn his negative thoughts into positive outcome in the ring. He had learned to control himself, the way that a normal human should?
He looked to a nearby mirror and what looked back at him made him want to puke. All he could see was the greasy monster that he once was, hair slicked back, lips painted black, his face glistening with the red tint of his enemies blood. This monster was dead, Ryan thought. He went to therapy. He went to the doctors. The professionals on this kind of shit. He went to see people all across North America to find a cure, and he finally did. The only thing that he could think of that was causing this was... was...
LION.[/b][/font]
He ripped off his "HERO" t-shirt, and tossed it in the nearest corner. Looking back at the mirror, he inspected his ribcage, specifically the tattoo of a medieval lion. The one he got to signify the closing of a chapter. The one he got to say goodbye to Lionheart...
...And here's Shawn Youngblood, asking RB if he gave Lionheart his "blessings" to come back? He felt disgusted. Words rung through his head, clearer than glass. It's like it was yesterday he heard them.
My offer is that if you beat me, you not only get the Undisupted Championship - your first ever kind of World Title - but you get your wish and can lay claim to being the man who retired a true Legend in this business, Chris Lionheart. And you have my word if that happens and you do retire me, then as far as TNB goes, I'm ghost. No staff position, no becoming a manager, no return to the ring due to circumstance and loopholes...[/b][/i]
He looked to the ground. You could read his expression, and how he felt. Betrayal.
I had your word... I HAD YOUR WORD.... I HAD YOUR WORD...
I HAD[/FONT] YOUR WORD!!!!!![/FONT][/b][/size]
Lunging forward, his fist connects perfectly in the middle of the mirror, shattering it into little shards that fall to the ground. He looks at his clenches fist, inspected the knuckles. The now bloody knuckles he owned. The BLOOD. The ever so teasing blood.
The First Blood match, tonight.
The Crimson Cup that he was going to win at the end of the month.
All of the blood he would own was unbelievable. It would all belong to him.
All of it.
He walked back to his locker and grabbed a roll of medical tape. He began furiously bandaging up his fresh wound. He wanted to insure that Stone wouldn't get a cheap win because of this. He wanted to make sure it was a memorable fight. Something people would remember. He wanted to walk away with the man's blood on a hand towel, something to keep as a treasure... A prize... A trophy. A trophy of his domination.
He looked at the ground again, and finally it hit him...
He would never be normal. He could try, try, and try again, but it would never happen.
He was now living a lie.
Lie... Lie... Just like that motherfucker Lionheart. Why else would Shawn Youngblood ask? Ryan now had to worry about Lion returning. Ryan now had to worry about Lion trying to kill him. He had to worry, because in this life, it was either be the hunter or the hunted... And Ryan was never the prey.
Never.
He walked back to his locker as he began preparing for the night... Preparing for the month... Preparing for his life.
....END?
OOC: Any questions needed for clarification on events or characters, feel free to PM
First Blood.
Why did Stone pick this match? Because of Aggression's Crimson Cup, which RB was scheduled to appear in. Why was Ryan put into the match for the Crimson Cup? Because of his past. His mental and emotional issues that he had suffered through his whole life, the same issues that came to surface on camera last year. He didn't understand why people wanted to see him in a match with a win only occurring with blood. With the prize being a crimson mask. He couldn't understand it. Didn't they see what he used to be? Couldn't they recognize the effort that he put into changing himself, bettering himself? They had to know this type of fight would do some sort of psychological damage to Ryan.
The lids of his eyes shut tight and his mouth twisted into a knot. The banging against the locker became quicker, heavier, louder. BLOOD. His mind was racing with all the things that he had gotten rid of. All the fun little demons that would poke and prod, trying to get a reaction. The little demons that guided him to destroying something beautiful. Destroying his sister. Destroying what little bond they had left. Ever since last years Night of Legends, Tiff Blaze had moved to England permanently to take care of Lionheart's kid. She was his nanny. She was his bitch.
FUCKIN' CUNT.[/SIZE][/B][/FONT]
His eyes snapped open. He was worried. He instantly leaves his ass, rising to his feet, and begins pacing. That old guy was dead. Why was he worrying about it?
I'm a Hero.
I'm loved.
I'm needed.
I'm one of a kind.
I'm a legend in this industry.
I won't ever be forgotten.
I..
...
I ffff-
I ffffff-
I ff-fffff-feel the s-
I ff-feel the s-ss-ss-sssssame.
The same as[/b] ALWAYS.[/b][/font]
The burning sensation in his ears, along his cheeks and on his neck was nothing new to him. It was actually rather common. He felt this when he was angry. When he was filled with 100% rage. He felt this same feeling when he destroyed his sisters face with a knife. When he killed his father. When he put Bobby Williams on the shelf. He felt this heat along his face and neck when he was feeling destructive.
But it made no sense? He had learned to control his angry and rage. He had learned to turn his negative thoughts into positive outcome in the ring. He had learned to control himself, the way that a normal human should?
He looked to a nearby mirror and what looked back at him made him want to puke. All he could see was the greasy monster that he once was, hair slicked back, lips painted black, his face glistening with the red tint of his enemies blood. This monster was dead, Ryan thought. He went to therapy. He went to the doctors. The professionals on this kind of shit. He went to see people all across North America to find a cure, and he finally did. The only thing that he could think of that was causing this was... was...
LION.[/b][/font]
He ripped off his "HERO" t-shirt, and tossed it in the nearest corner. Looking back at the mirror, he inspected his ribcage, specifically the tattoo of a medieval lion. The one he got to signify the closing of a chapter. The one he got to say goodbye to Lionheart...
...And here's Shawn Youngblood, asking RB if he gave Lionheart his "blessings" to come back? He felt disgusted. Words rung through his head, clearer than glass. It's like it was yesterday he heard them.
My offer is that if you beat me, you not only get the Undisupted Championship - your first ever kind of World Title - but you get your wish and can lay claim to being the man who retired a true Legend in this business, Chris Lionheart. And you have my word if that happens and you do retire me, then as far as TNB goes, I'm ghost. No staff position, no becoming a manager, no return to the ring due to circumstance and loopholes...[/b][/i]
He looked to the ground. You could read his expression, and how he felt. Betrayal.
I had your word... I HAD YOUR WORD.... I HAD YOUR WORD...
I HAD[/FONT] YOUR WORD!!!!!![/FONT][/b][/size]
Lunging forward, his fist connects perfectly in the middle of the mirror, shattering it into little shards that fall to the ground. He looks at his clenches fist, inspected the knuckles. The now bloody knuckles he owned. The BLOOD. The ever so teasing blood.
The First Blood match, tonight.
The Crimson Cup that he was going to win at the end of the month.
All of the blood he would own was unbelievable. It would all belong to him.
All of it.
He walked back to his locker and grabbed a roll of medical tape. He began furiously bandaging up his fresh wound. He wanted to insure that Stone wouldn't get a cheap win because of this. He wanted to make sure it was a memorable fight. Something people would remember. He wanted to walk away with the man's blood on a hand towel, something to keep as a treasure... A prize... A trophy. A trophy of his domination.
He looked at the ground again, and finally it hit him...
He would never be normal. He could try, try, and try again, but it would never happen.
He was now living a lie.
Lie... Lie... Just like that motherfucker Lionheart. Why else would Shawn Youngblood ask? Ryan now had to worry about Lion returning. Ryan now had to worry about Lion trying to kill him. He had to worry, because in this life, it was either be the hunter or the hunted... And Ryan was never the prey.
Never.
He walked back to his locker as he began preparing for the night... Preparing for the month... Preparing for his life.
....END?
OOC: Any questions needed for clarification on events or characters, feel free to PM
