Post by deadman on May 13, 2007 19:56:59 GMT -5
Michael Reaper woke up on the eve of Trauma with nothing in his mind, except for 2Guys and his partner Diehard. Reaper climbed out of bed, and waked down the hall into the kitchen and looked out the window. It was dark outside and the moon was still up. He glanced over at the clock on the stove and it said 4:36AM.
Outside his apartment, the city was dark and quiet. There were few lights on, and even fewer cars on the street. The entire city stood still, it seemed as if everything stopped just for Reaper; it felt as if the city was an extension of his mind, both were quiet.
Reaper walked away from the window and into the living room. He sat down on the couch and turned on the TV to watch the early morning news. The news anchor started talking about a murder that happened a few hours earlier; a young male, Caucasian, shot and killed an enemy gang member at 1:30 AM, and was picked up by police an hour later.
It was rather sad how the city had been changing. Back when it was his family, everyone was outraged, but now, it was a daily occurrence, and not even though of as important. Disgusting, well, the whole generation is disgusting, full of spoiled brats because their baby boomer parents resented their strict World War II parents. The entire Vietnam War made things worse, his parent’s generation was the first to start breaking the rules, and now it has morphed from an innocent caterpillar, into a conniving moth hell bent on ruining the wardrobe.
Reaper shut the TV off and walked into the kitchen again. He opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass. He then poured water into glass, and the stream pulled his mind away into his match, and he forgot where he was.
Diehard had always been a good opponent for Reaper, in every encounter Reaper grew as a wrestler, and evolved his style. The blood between the two men, the rivalry, the hatred, had evolved into a deep mutual respect. Neither man liked each other, however, but they weren’t about to kill each other. They will put their aggression between each other, and divert it to the total destruction of 2Guys.
Reaper awoke from his trans-like state when the water began overflowing from the cup, so he turned it off and took a sip. It was cold, tasted like iron, and went down easy. He was still thirsty, so he had another, and then another, and then another, four drinks, and four men in the ring.
Reaper looked back out at the city that was now waking up, coming out of the night, and into the day. He thought about that murder that he heard about on TV, and wondered how his neighbors would react. Maybe things will change, maybe they won’t.
Outside his apartment, the city was dark and quiet. There were few lights on, and even fewer cars on the street. The entire city stood still, it seemed as if everything stopped just for Reaper; it felt as if the city was an extension of his mind, both were quiet.
Reaper walked away from the window and into the living room. He sat down on the couch and turned on the TV to watch the early morning news. The news anchor started talking about a murder that happened a few hours earlier; a young male, Caucasian, shot and killed an enemy gang member at 1:30 AM, and was picked up by police an hour later.
It was rather sad how the city had been changing. Back when it was his family, everyone was outraged, but now, it was a daily occurrence, and not even though of as important. Disgusting, well, the whole generation is disgusting, full of spoiled brats because their baby boomer parents resented their strict World War II parents. The entire Vietnam War made things worse, his parent’s generation was the first to start breaking the rules, and now it has morphed from an innocent caterpillar, into a conniving moth hell bent on ruining the wardrobe.
Reaper shut the TV off and walked into the kitchen again. He opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass. He then poured water into glass, and the stream pulled his mind away into his match, and he forgot where he was.
Diehard had always been a good opponent for Reaper, in every encounter Reaper grew as a wrestler, and evolved his style. The blood between the two men, the rivalry, the hatred, had evolved into a deep mutual respect. Neither man liked each other, however, but they weren’t about to kill each other. They will put their aggression between each other, and divert it to the total destruction of 2Guys.
Reaper awoke from his trans-like state when the water began overflowing from the cup, so he turned it off and took a sip. It was cold, tasted like iron, and went down easy. He was still thirsty, so he had another, and then another, and then another, four drinks, and four men in the ring.
Reaper looked back out at the city that was now waking up, coming out of the night, and into the day. He thought about that murder that he heard about on TV, and wondered how his neighbors would react. Maybe things will change, maybe they won’t.