Post by stormangel on Apr 15, 2006 17:56:22 GMT -5
The man known as the American Nightmare sat back in his easy chair, staring at the wall. The chair was larger than normal and yet still felt small for him. His living room was smaller than the last place he had. It felt tight, cramped... empty. On his stereo system played Beethoven’s 5th, but it brought him no joy. His face was a stone mask. The phone rang, and he instinctively expected Weasel to answer it as he sipped his whiskey. But it rang again and again, irritating him more.
“Yo Weasel, answer the damn---“ he shouted.
But no, he wasn’t there. He had no idea where the little runt was, or if he was even alive. The loneliness began to creep up again, but he threw it aside like a rag doll as his anger replaced it. The little bitch had betrayed him. He had let him inside. Let him get close. Let him be the only true friend he had ever had, and Weasel had betrayed him for a simple hoe.
The phone finally stopped ringing as the voice mail must have picked it up. AN gulped down the remainder of the glass of Jack and walked to the phone to check the message. From the first words he recognized it was Willard.
“Hey Nightmare! Great work on Trauma. It’s too bad the bitch Captain is too squeamish to air what you did to Sinn as he left the arena. Anyways, call me back. We got business to arrange for Hostile Takeover.” The message ended with Willard’s memorable evil chuckle and Nightmare smiled. Weasel had been weak, and his weakness had infected him. Renewing his partnership with Jason Willard was rejuvenating. He was one of the few men to have the same level of sadism as him. A sadism he had lost as he had become enamored by the roar of the crowds. He had grown comfortable with being loved by the fans, but he had forgotten that they were fickle. They were just fools lost in the lights and violence, happy to root for anyone that made them lose themselves from their pathetic lives for a few moments.
Pathetic lives. He looked at his small living room and remembered what he had lost in the last few months. It was sparse, lacking the décor of the lakeside estate he had to sell. The glass in hand flew against a wall, shattering upon the carpet. One of these days he knew he’d be evicted. The walls were full of holes made by his massive fists. The carpets were stained with his own blood. He needed the pain, and with it came blood.
Blood. Blood is flow of life, and it was not only his own he would shed. His mind flashbacked to Trauma…
He was back there, in the ring. The match was over, but his rage was not. Seth Sinn was on the ground, prone and grasping his back from the powerful Dream’s End he had delivered. But winning the match was not enough. He needed to hurt Sinn. He needed to send a message to all that the American Nightmare was back in all his raging glory. He flipped Sinn over and grabbed a leg, placing him in a single leg crab. Then he pulled. And pulled some more. He glanced down and Sinn was not there anymore. It was Captain Weasel. His former manager... his roommate since college… the only person he’d ever truly considered a friend.
The feeling of betrayal surged within him and he snapped. He then looked down at the leg he held. Bone protruded from the middle of the calf. The tibia, the fibula, both snapped in half as blooded flowed out onto the mat. Funny how easily he remembered what they were. Then again, Weasel had helped him pass anatomy in college.
He was lost in the moment as Destiny came in and began bashing Sinn’s head with Jason’s horsehead cane. Nightmare just pulled some more on the leg, intent on ripping the leg out while at the same time lost in memory. Jason and Douglas were in the ring seconds later, adding more damage to Sinn. Nightmare let go and grinned, enjoying the carnage. It was then that he felt the impact to his head as Lantlas struck him with a flail. A glancing blow fortunately, otherwise he might have been making a trip to the hospital himself. He began to pick himself up and destroy this interloper, but the other N2S members rolled out of the ring. With the damage having been done to Sinn, AN decided to follow suit.
Ten minutes went by as he watched from the shadows. The EMTs placed Sinn on a stretcher, readying him for the hospital trip. He watched as Lantlas unwillingly left his partner’s side to prepare for his own match. When his partner was truly gone, AN made his way to the injured Sinn. One cold stare caused the EMTs to back away.
“You aren’t coming back for a long long time… if ever,” Nightmare growled. To his credit, Sinn stared defiantly despite the pain he was in. Nightmare smiled in return. It was a cold smile, devoid of any friendliness. “And if you do come back… let me leave you with something to remember me by.”
Nightmare drove his index finger into the open wound of the compound break. Sinn gritted his teeth, but did not scream. Only hate came from his eyes as he saw Nightmare raise the bloody finger towards his forehead. Seth batted away the hand, but AN was still fresh whereas he had suffered great injuries from all of N2S. AN grabbed both hands with one massive grasp as he wrote the letters ‘N2S’ upon the tag champion’s brow. He then let go and walked away as the EMTs hurriedly placed Seth inside the ambulance before the monster could change his mind.
Nightmare grinned as the memory flashed in his mind. No longer was he a fan favorite. No longer would he let the masses dictate how he’d operate. He was a monster, the Xtreme Monster in fact, and all would know that he was back. "It is the pain that drives us foreward," he muttered as he drove his fist into the wall.
“Yo Weasel, answer the damn---“ he shouted.
But no, he wasn’t there. He had no idea where the little runt was, or if he was even alive. The loneliness began to creep up again, but he threw it aside like a rag doll as his anger replaced it. The little bitch had betrayed him. He had let him inside. Let him get close. Let him be the only true friend he had ever had, and Weasel had betrayed him for a simple hoe.
The phone finally stopped ringing as the voice mail must have picked it up. AN gulped down the remainder of the glass of Jack and walked to the phone to check the message. From the first words he recognized it was Willard.
“Hey Nightmare! Great work on Trauma. It’s too bad the bitch Captain is too squeamish to air what you did to Sinn as he left the arena. Anyways, call me back. We got business to arrange for Hostile Takeover.” The message ended with Willard’s memorable evil chuckle and Nightmare smiled. Weasel had been weak, and his weakness had infected him. Renewing his partnership with Jason Willard was rejuvenating. He was one of the few men to have the same level of sadism as him. A sadism he had lost as he had become enamored by the roar of the crowds. He had grown comfortable with being loved by the fans, but he had forgotten that they were fickle. They were just fools lost in the lights and violence, happy to root for anyone that made them lose themselves from their pathetic lives for a few moments.
Pathetic lives. He looked at his small living room and remembered what he had lost in the last few months. It was sparse, lacking the décor of the lakeside estate he had to sell. The glass in hand flew against a wall, shattering upon the carpet. One of these days he knew he’d be evicted. The walls were full of holes made by his massive fists. The carpets were stained with his own blood. He needed the pain, and with it came blood.
Blood. Blood is flow of life, and it was not only his own he would shed. His mind flashbacked to Trauma…
He was back there, in the ring. The match was over, but his rage was not. Seth Sinn was on the ground, prone and grasping his back from the powerful Dream’s End he had delivered. But winning the match was not enough. He needed to hurt Sinn. He needed to send a message to all that the American Nightmare was back in all his raging glory. He flipped Sinn over and grabbed a leg, placing him in a single leg crab. Then he pulled. And pulled some more. He glanced down and Sinn was not there anymore. It was Captain Weasel. His former manager... his roommate since college… the only person he’d ever truly considered a friend.
The feeling of betrayal surged within him and he snapped. He then looked down at the leg he held. Bone protruded from the middle of the calf. The tibia, the fibula, both snapped in half as blooded flowed out onto the mat. Funny how easily he remembered what they were. Then again, Weasel had helped him pass anatomy in college.
He was lost in the moment as Destiny came in and began bashing Sinn’s head with Jason’s horsehead cane. Nightmare just pulled some more on the leg, intent on ripping the leg out while at the same time lost in memory. Jason and Douglas were in the ring seconds later, adding more damage to Sinn. Nightmare let go and grinned, enjoying the carnage. It was then that he felt the impact to his head as Lantlas struck him with a flail. A glancing blow fortunately, otherwise he might have been making a trip to the hospital himself. He began to pick himself up and destroy this interloper, but the other N2S members rolled out of the ring. With the damage having been done to Sinn, AN decided to follow suit.
Ten minutes went by as he watched from the shadows. The EMTs placed Sinn on a stretcher, readying him for the hospital trip. He watched as Lantlas unwillingly left his partner’s side to prepare for his own match. When his partner was truly gone, AN made his way to the injured Sinn. One cold stare caused the EMTs to back away.
“You aren’t coming back for a long long time… if ever,” Nightmare growled. To his credit, Sinn stared defiantly despite the pain he was in. Nightmare smiled in return. It was a cold smile, devoid of any friendliness. “And if you do come back… let me leave you with something to remember me by.”
Nightmare drove his index finger into the open wound of the compound break. Sinn gritted his teeth, but did not scream. Only hate came from his eyes as he saw Nightmare raise the bloody finger towards his forehead. Seth batted away the hand, but AN was still fresh whereas he had suffered great injuries from all of N2S. AN grabbed both hands with one massive grasp as he wrote the letters ‘N2S’ upon the tag champion’s brow. He then let go and walked away as the EMTs hurriedly placed Seth inside the ambulance before the monster could change his mind.
Nightmare grinned as the memory flashed in his mind. No longer was he a fan favorite. No longer would he let the masses dictate how he’d operate. He was a monster, the Xtreme Monster in fact, and all would know that he was back. "It is the pain that drives us foreward," he muttered as he drove his fist into the wall.