Post by Mr. Showtime on Nov 13, 2015 19:52:41 GMT -5
Pads were placed in the center of his palms.
The term diva gets thrown around quite a bit when it comes to celebrities. Generally it’s due to antics busting down the little people who work for them, or scenes they made at the club. One particular Pure Class Wrestling superstar has his own claim to fame for this. When the cameras are on “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght is a master of his composure, but alone in his dressing room is fair game.
He placed the end of medical tape on one of the pads and drew it around the back of his hand.
Showtime’s personal room in the back had been ravaged. There were so many things that happened at Trauma 181 to cause Showtime furry. Being able to hold his emotions in check have been an uphill battle for him and a battle he’d been winning. Though on this night it all came crashing down. He was guilty of overreacting a bit, but that didn’t stop him from tossing his own tables across the room. Mirrors had been shattered and food scattered to the wind. None of it seemed good enough until every bit of it was thrown, smashed or destroyed.
He stretched a long strand of tape and pulled it around his right hand.
How could they? In a time when the general public was finally coming around to the Black Hand. Their purpose was always to destroy the norm of the world. It inherently started with Pure Class Wrestling. They were given the opportunity to spread their message through PCW’s media outlets. On a grander scale Showtime had brought their agenda to the general public through his presidential campaign. Then after the destruction via chaos they’d rebuild.
The rebuilding process was almost here. The fans have begun to see the true face of The Black Hand. Any rebel that upends the norm are generally greeted with ire. Though once the mass public realizes that this is for the greater good they’d come around. This was beginning to take shape, but then they go and do this.
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Showtime raged at just the thought of those three words. They were supposed to be the good guys at this point. It was time to turn the corner and become the heroes. They were running the show by obtaining the three top titles. Showtime still considered himself the North American champion, at least until the paper champion was crowned. Now they come out and clean up the garbage in the old ways. Not villains. Not the waste of humanity. Just two pieces of garbage. They didn’t deserve that. That wasn’t what the Black Hand was supposed to stand for.
He bit the tape and ripped it from the roll to begin the work on the left.
The Saints going over Phinehas and Justin was almost as frustrating as the last. Showtime couldn’t believe that his stablemates weren’t able to get the win. But worst of all was that they lost to that snot Corey Steel. Showtime hadn’t forgiven the passes that Jury had committed in the past. The sheer ridiculousness of he and his partner Judge coming out on top of these legends.
Showtime had seen that he had a chance at the next Trauma to make things right. He received the card moments after he’d destroyed his dressing room. Throw Eira in the mix to get yourself a regular shit show. Strangely he actually felt empathy for his female competitor. She was one bad head-butt away from spending her life just staring at pretty colors, but still she insisted on returning to in ring action. He shouldn’t put aside her devotion to the destruction of the Black Hand, but he didn’t like the thought of being the person to destroy a life.
Wrestling was real. There was an attempt to make this profession, purely entertainment. Pulling punches. Cradling people to the matt. Self-inflicted cuts to bleed. The fans saw right through it. It took a special type of person to actually volunteer to take this sort of pain. Be it for the glory of victory, or the urge to inflict pain. Either way they were all a bit crazy. Eira was showing the signs of a person that couldn’t see the dangers of her actions. Just hang them up honey before your food is fed through a straw.
Showtime found no solace in entering the ring with her. She was dangerous. To herself and everyone else involve. Jury on the other hand, it would be nice to put the beat down on the “Enforcer” of the Black Hand. Ridiculous. The Black Hand needs no enforcers. Add Judge to the list and they might as well call themselves the Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
He pulled the tape tight around his left hand and bite it from the roll.
As he looked down at his freshly bandaged hands all he could think was “Hatpins, Fucking Hatpins.” This was now twice in a row that Saniti had crossed the line. Both meetings were met with a Showtime victory, and the mad hatter couldn’t handle it. Actually attempting to “pin” Showtime to the mat through the palms was the second worse thing to happen to Michael Wryght. The first was with glass and his face, but he didn’t enjoy thinking about that.
Twice the evil magician had crossed the line. This instance wouldn’t be easily forgiven. Unlike the rabble that the Dillingers disposed of, Saniti deserved all of the hurt that would come his way. Vengeance would be sweet.
He flexed both of his hands to break in the tape, two red spots begun to show through the bandages.
Showtime stood up and grabbed his roller bag from under some ambiguous debris. He could hear the press waiting for him on the other side of the door. He needed to compose himself and put on a face for the crowds. This was not the time that the Presidential hopeful could show weakness. He used a little bit of ambition to force a smile across his face. It was time to think up a new trick. How to make the magician disappear.
