Post by Level-Two on Apr 22, 2009 18:32:34 GMT -4
‘’One’s’’ Flames of the Inferno (Part I)
Hit and Miss…
After Rasslemania Five
My life has changed.
This isn’t what I had expected. It was as if a higher power was playing yet another trick on me for their own expense. A golden boy for one big joke; in which they would gas themselves upon in rapid bursts of laughter beneath the pits of hell. She had promised me great power, strength, and an evil streak that would be much greater than even I had felt; yet none of it came. While a void was filled by finally reining as the new world champion, my eyes remained fixated well beyond the belt. Into the real world, where I barely knew how to function.
It was as if there was a shift in the universe occurred. With I of all people being let in on the news. I sat with belt in my hands, then re-placing in uncomfortably on my shoulder just waiting for her to come in and clue me in, but nothing came. No voices. No visions. Nothing. The strain that I had once carried on my shoulders; was gone. The filth; I couldn’t see it as I stared into my locker room mirror no matter how hard I tried.
I felt pure.
I didn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. Even despite the cheers of the crowd I was sure they still hated me. Michael Lively has showed dishonor to the world title and everything it was worth; why would they cheer something like that? I figured that the next time I would walk back through those curtains; the fans would be against me, backed behind the entire world, and I’d continue to fight a handicap match the world has never seen before. I’d win too.
However; then the cynic within me slowly slipped away. Maybe I really did make the change? I don’t know what did, or why it happened, but perhaps there’s an explanation for it. I mean, surely this couldn’t be that bad. I’d still be effective as world champion, with or with out her, despite what she had said the in past. And the man in the mirror? Well, who needed him anyways? A negative mark in my life, which ultimately had left me alone, finally. Still the change came too quick. Too quick for me to even manage…
It wasn’t until I was outside approaching my ride; pushing my way through mass amounts of media coverage asking me about the nights events. What seemed to be a hot topic; was the burning of the insane championship title, melted to the very core by my hands—no pun attended. I dodged the questions and avoided the various mass amounts of oncoming cameras, until slipping into a limozine that awaited me. The media pounced on the windows; shouting, screaming, demanding an answer. The driver turned around and asked me…
‘’You are quite the stud these days, huh?’’ I looked at the driver emotionless and then back at the crowd of paparazzi. Evaluating the situation; it was a change that had been coming too quick.
‘’I’m out. I don’t need this charity’’ I said thrusting open up the door as the paparazzi snapped away nearly blinding me in the process. With a slap of the limo door; the driver quickly drove off leaving me alone with the vultures. ‘’…I’ll answer a few questions’’ I told the media, as they swarmed me just waiting to devour my story; little did I know answering…
…stupid questions
‘’How does it feel to win the APW world champion”
Would save my life.
As the night went on; I found my eyes traveling along the darkened streets with only hits of light given away by the tall street fixtures that loomed over the quiet city. The novelties of becoming the APW world champion, eventually worn off. Don’t get me wrong. It was a great achievement in my career; but I had been used to bigger, and I was missing it. I wanted back everything. Absolutely, everything I had lost.
‘’Everything did burn…’’ I mumbled to myself.
My empty eyes void of all life simply stared through the glass of the taxi door. Many houses remained parked behind large oak trees as we passed street after street. One house smoke billowed out of it’s roof; the second house more smoke. By the third, forth, and filth flames could be seen seeping through the windows. By the time I was down a block; the houses were on fire being eaten and withheld in the pits of the devilish flames. By the time we anchored down the neighborhood sirens began to roar; my eyes traveling along both roads; as flames consumed everything but the road in which we drove on.
My heart beat in rapid fire. I felt myself sweating; perhaps it was just me, or maybe the flames were inching a bit closer that my eyes were deceiving me. The tree’s swayed back and forth it’s breaking bark the only sound the voiceless creature could make. The grass served as pits of fire; and the houses slowly crumbled. People ran from the houses; a face being burned in the inferno of a second story house as a child is unable to escape. The screams intensify; cutting through the obnoxious sounds of the sirens.
‘’STOP IT!’’ I shouted. The cab driver pulling up by a stop sign turns around and looks at me. He can see that I’m wild eyed; he could observe the sweat and more importantly, he could tell that I was losing my mind. His strong Middle Eastern accent rang off catching me off guard…
‘’Hey, what is wrong with you?’’ The cab driver asked. ‘’You make a habit out of disturbing your drivers? I don’t get paid enough for this stuffs my friend’’ The driver sighs. I looked at the driver. Clearly he was out of his fucking mind.
‘’Don’t you see that, you fucking idiot!’’ I shouted out loud pointing to the last house on the block. And there I was…nothing? ‘’…It was on fire’’ I said, the sirens still cutting through my head. Little did I know, it was about the only thing that was real.
‘’You are crazy!’’
--
‘’454…do you read? 454…Mr. Sharpe do you read? Mr. Sharpe are you at the location of the alleged accident? Mr. Sharpe?’’
No answer.
‘’Uh…please transfer me to another unit’’
Fumbling is heard on the phone; as well as white noise. With a solid click; the call has been transferred.
‘’Yes, uh...we had received a call an accident located by the River side valley? Two men were reported injured with various stab wounds to their stomach and chests…An uh…Mr. Sharpe along with a co-worker by the name of Jessica Bella has not responded to our calls. Can we please get some back up on the scene?’’
Fade in…
We get a shot of a blue uniform; equipped with a pair of neat black pants. White cloves mask the mans white hands, as he walks over to a second party. In the back round a man, and a women are tied up back to back around a large tree; as they struggle in their useless positions. The camera spans over to the men’s conversation…
‘’This is fucking crazy, do you know what happens if I get caught?’’ Spoke Jace Brown. He wore the same uniform as the man who stood across from him, Brian Mc Phee. They had lured the nearby ambulance for the sole intention of stealing the vehicle. Sirens begin to shoot off in the distance which worried the cooked cop in Jace Brown. Brian however remained articulate and calm, as he reached up and yanked the driver door open.
‘’If you shut your mouth and hop in, we won’t be getting caught’’ Brian countered. Jace Brown scared for his freedom wastes no time stammering around the front of the ambulance and then into the passenger side of the vehicle.
‘’I don’t understand this. Why couldn’t we take a regular van to do this?’’ Jace brown hazards the questions, as Brian Mc Phee starts the engine.
‘’It’s going to be awfully hard to do what we want to do; if we don’t have sirens to stop the traffic’’ Brian Mc Phee sarcastically replied, as he stepped on the gas and slowly began to climb down the small hill. ‘’Now look we have identification on where Level-One is right now all we need to do is to beat Level-One to the intersection, and then…BAM’’
‘’This is fucking insane. You don’t think we’re going to get killed doing this?’’ Jace asked. Brian looked over to him, almost disgusted by the question.
‘’This is a pretty big vehicle, Jace. I think we’ll be alright’’ Brian smiled.
‘’I just think this is fucked up. I mean; there was someone in need of this ambulance, you know?’’ Jace brown said, Brian Mc Phee simply stared at the road ahead of him. Brian felt as if Jace was waiting for an answer; and in turn looked back at him…
-Meanwhile-
‘’I love you…’’ A voice cried out. Shuffling is heard in broken leafs and torn grass; as a lifeless man crawls himself to another body lying underneath a large tree covered in blood. Him and his girlfriend stabbed damn near to death after being ambushed and dragged where virtually no one would find them; save a single phone call.
‘’I’ve called 9-11 baby, they’re coming for us. Stay calm’’ The man said as he reached out grabbing his girlfriends hands. Exhausted, tired and dying the man falls onto his back looking up at the trees that stare down on him. The man is able to then turn his head once more; to a tree far in the distance. A man and women tied up to a tree. The man wearing a large tank top; and boxer shorts. The women in nothing more than a bra and panties combination; forced to watch as the couple lay dieing. Both pairs are unable to shout a word…
-Jump cut-
‘’…I don’t care’’
Brian Mc Phee turns his head back to the road in-front of him; before yanking on the sirens. Jace Brown simply shook his head as his eyes dart out the window. It was only a matter of time until the two separate words would collide.
Close your eyes.
‘’Just drive’’ I told the Middle Eastern cab driver in response to his comments.
But now; we were stuck in the middle of the traffic. Congested with late night workers, and early morning partiers having a night on the town. The sirens still sliced through the city offering up a shallow sense of security. The sirens ultimately got louder; causing many drivers to move over to let the vehicle pass on by. Like a nosey old lady in the suburbs ducking behind her curtains for cover; I peered my head over the seat trying to see the commotion. The lights lit up the darkened city, as an ambulance raged its way through traffic.
Not too far away on the other lane a limo stood parked at the red light. It was the same one I was supposed to be in. With the stop I was scheduled to make; taking the route of the Taxi was no slower or faster. Maybe, a little bit more comfortable but the snob appeal was way too high. Even through the various title reins and success the fame never seemed to get into my head.
‘’This traffic is ridiculous my friend’’ The Middle Eastern taxi driver offered up. I smirked momentarily taking my attention off the road but my eyes were quickly drawn back to it. The ambulance switched the sides the road rapidly, and was now headed towards are way. I tried to brace myself for the impact by ducking my head…
SMASH!
The ambulance smashes into the limo; knocking it back onto a curb and then into a store brick wall. The limo virtually destroyed; smoke quickly begins to stir out of its front end. I looked through the taxi door, and there I saw Jace Brown and Brian Mc Phee trying to shake off the impact; the recoil of the impact much more than they had originally anticipated. I reached for the car door ready to open it, and confront Brian Mc Phee and Jace brown right in the middle of the road but then…
‘’Holy shit!’’ Shouted the cab driver as he ducked down. Three men with ski masks jumping from the back of the damaged ambulance hold large assault rifles as they slither their way to the sides of the ambulance. The men squeeze back on their triggers as they shower the limo with bullets in rapid fire. They don’t stop until they hear a loud scream, and even then do they fire an extra round for good measure. The three men then enter the front end of the ambulance; removing Jace Brown and Brian from their seats.
‘’We are going to die man!’’ The cab driver shouted; as I watched the ambulance pull away, losing its bumper on the way off. Shoving opens the taxi door; I fell out onto the concrete floor. My stomach stirred with poison; I felt as if I was going to throw up and pass out in the middle of the cold floored street; as my eyes trailed along the limo now dressed up in bullet wholes. The driver of the limo manages to kick open the door; as he falls out onto the concrete street. A fresh breed of sirens now remain faint in the city.
‘’I have called the cops. They will be here any minute’’ The cab driver said as he ran out behind me. I watched as the driver lay, with various bullets pumped into his stomach and chest. Feeling helpless for as he inched closer to me, I backed away. The driver slowly, now able to pull himself up to his knees begins to utter something, blood seeping through his teeth out onto the concrete floor all the while…
‘’Tell my wife…kids…tell them I love them’’ The driver managed to stir. With a final push, he’s up to his feet. Groggily he stumbles forward.
‘’I was supposed to be in that vehicle…’’ I uttered to myself; the man inching even closer as I take a large step back. ‘’I’m supposed to be dead…’’ I say, coming to a greater realization. Hate burnt in my heart; for I knew they had stepped this game of ours up. ‘’…I’m sorry’’ I tell the man, as he nods his head up and down.
‘’Nothing to be sorry for kid…’’ The driver says, before letting out a loud painful groan. ‘’I got my wish; I’m a changed man’’ the driver spoke. I looked at him my face ridden with confusion, he knew this and continued on. ‘’I couldn’t have picked a better time for this to all happen. I die…I die a better man’’
The driver falls forward onto my chest. The blood leaking onto me, death clinging to my clothing with the sickest hug I ever felt. On his breath however; a scent of alcohol. It wasn’t fresh, nor was it significantly strong; but it was apart of him. Embedded as a reminder of what he had lived through…
‘’Changes sometimes…they leave us weaker. But strength is a corrupted power’’ The driver uttered; his words sneaking into my ear; as I back away. His lifeless body collapsing to the concrete. I stumbled back, back until I tripped over a pothole landing on my hind-side. I watched as the man lay motionless; my clothes drenched in the one thing that had kept him alive.
His body went up in smoke. Flames consuming it whole. The limo; set a blaze as its flames snaked high choking the oxygen out of the air. I looked into the sky; flames hanging above the cities once darkened skies staring back at me uttering the words…
‘’Look what you have caused’’
What do you see when you think Streets Wilson? A superstar? A champion? A legend in the making? Or do you see what I see? I try to think about the one thing Streets Wilson name is synonymous with and the only term I can think of is nothing. Street Wilson is synonymous with nothing. He doesn’t stand out, he doesn’t make any waves; he’s just there. Floating. Wandering. Like a lost fool out of his element; just a single sheep amongst the herd.
Streets Wilson has fists; fist that swing with very little aim. Sure, he walks out there every night—but when he finally steps through the ropes, he’s nothing impressive. The fans don’t notice him. Nobody gives a shit about Streets Wilson; and once he’s done wrestling in between the show offering up a shitty intermission performance; the show moves on. The fans remotely begin to care. Streets Wilson gathers his pay cheque; and then he does the same shit again the next week.
Streets Wilson loves to flap his lips; but always is sure to say very little. If you cared about him long enough to actually listen to him, you’d see through his ignorance. Streets would claim that he is superior to everything around him; bolster his lack of talent and let his ego carry him through the very gaps of his own stupidity. However; once Streets Wilson voice is ripped away from him, and his opinion no longer matters, and he’s forced to wrestle one on one do you see that even Streets Wilson is bored of Streets Wilson. Here’s a tip; if you are bored saying the shit you spew out of your mouth every week, chances are we are all fucking sleeping having to listen to it.
Streets Wilson is irrelevant simply because all he has is a face. Streets Wilson lacks in substance. Streets, you have ZERO determination, you have ZERO motivation and you have NO heart. As to why you show up every week, I can’t quite figure it out. It’s clear you don’t give a fuck anymore. You show up, you do nothing, and you go home. Never forgetting to collect the CHEQUE at the end of the day. That’s what you’re here for isn’t it? The good pay cheque you receive at the end of the week?
Furthermore; if you want to stand in-front of the whole world and try to state other wise; I have actual facts to back up what I say. Streets, wasn’t it you who claimed they were retiring two months ago, and came back running in half the time? This clearly shows that in the back of your head; you know you’re nearing your end. You know Streets Wilson doesn’t have what it takes to hang with the young guns that have surpassed you with ease. This shows me that Streets Wilson is sticking around, but it’s not to win any titles or do anything of substance around here. It’s to bath in 15 seconds of fame and collect a fucking pay cheque at the end of the day. Streets, you are the worst kind. The scum beneath my shoe; and trust me, I have walked through a shit field after burying Michael Lively.
Streets Wilson, I wish I could offer you help but you believe your own hype to the extent that you’d eat out your own asshole just to get another taste of it. You claim to be different but you are saying the exact statements as the people who have stood before me; no longer do they stand. Again, statistic speaking. I have beaten man after man, roster member after roster member, a total mark up of 14 wins and zero losses, and do you know what? Not one of them—not one of them had the fucking gull to sit in-front of the camera and acknowledge the fact that they simply couldn’t beat me. Not one of the 14 sat in-front of the camera, and acknowledged me for my skill and capabilities. And all 14 of them sat in-front of the camera, with their stupid smirks drawn across their fucking faces and uttered the words ‘’I will beat you’’ and to this day, I still wait for them to practice what they’ve preached.
So let me ask you, what makes you any different? Considering you were one of those 14; you look awfully stupid trying to speak to the contrary. But guys like you? They have no credibility. They can walk out week after week claiming to beat everyone in their path, and fail each and every single time, yet they’d turn around and say the same shit the next. In turn, their words are empty. Broken. They begin not even to make any sense; because it all becomes filler. Streets Wilson, don’t you fucking realize? You are filler. You aren’t even good filler. A big pile of shit in between two undersized buns; and sold. No matter what the amount was; someone was being ripped off.
You want to know why you’ve graced the main-event you dumbfucked cunt? It’s real simple. You are stepping in the ring with the main-eventer. Tell me you’d be here with someone, anyone else; and I’d laugh at you. Furthermore the only reason you are here is because Max Carter tossed you to a wolf; yet you believe like you’ve earned this match? Technically speaking, no. But anyone who aligns himself with Hurricane Jeff more importantly as a ‘’Body guard’’ deserves a good ass kicking regardless. Wow, great way to make yourself relevant. Protect Hurricane Jeff’s crown jewels with all your might. Don’t you look fucking retarded when your only job around here is to protect Hurricane Jeff’s ball sack from a vicious toe kick from Max Carter?
There are a myriad of reasons why Hurricane Jeff would come to Streets Wilson for protection; but none of them really matter. The point is, you are a mere martyr in this situation. A scapegoat; a blockade while a powerful man uses you as a temporary and fragile cover. The truth is; you shouldn’t be too proud about your job as head of security. See, because Hurricane Jeff would have shot a load in his spandex if he found out I would be willing to help him. Jeff, however didn’t even come to me with an offer. Because he knows I how I treat stupidity. He knows that the difference between me and Twister is that I’d smash his fucking face in with a lead pipe standing two feet in-front of him; not behind his back.
Streets you should know that I’m trying to change. I’m trying to do this the way the fans and humanity claims it should be done. I was willing to help you. I was willing to lead you. And to this day, I still am. Unfortunately, it’s going to be in the form of an asskicking and a wake up call. It’s time to look around Streets. It’s time to take the hand I would’ve dealt you with, and truly decide if you want to shake it and move on for the better or you can choose to respond by flipping it off. Disrespect me. Slap me in the face, spit on me too…
…ultimately causing that hand I dealt you with to extract the last breath from your broken body, bitch slap you, and then grab the shovel responsible for burying your dead career once and for all…
Its game on; you ignorant piece of shit.
