Post by Grimm on May 22, 2006 15:44:16 GMT -5
Phinehas Grimm knew what he had to do. Mikey Wryght had left him no choice. Mr. Showtime had already shown what he was willing to do just for a little press, and it seemed to always be at Grimm’s expense. Run-in after run-in, interference via both Wryght and Perfection…it was to the point that a person could set their watch to the couple’s desire to ruin perfectly good matches. And now, on the eve of Collision Course, Grimm had come to the realization that he would have no rest until Mikey Wryght was out of the picture…for good.
Some would argue otherwise, but Phinehas wasn’t an idiot. He knew full well that even after the Abomination of Desolation laid waste to the Frickin’ Superstar and retained his well-deserved International title, that would not be the end of it. It would never end. Mikey Wryght was unable to accept the fact that, believe it or not, he was not the end-all, be-all when it came to professional wrestling. There were those who were more talented, more ruthless, more driven. But Wryght would stay the course, coming back to disrupt matches in which he had been deemed unworthy of participation. He could try to give the impression that he would do no such thing, but Grimm knew better. Time would prove Wryght to be a liar. And so, as was stated before, Grimm knew what he had to do. He had to make certain that whether or not they took it to the final cage match at Collision Course, Wryght would no longer be a concern. For anyone.
“Don’t worry about it, Phinehas. This is long overdue.”
“Who said anything about being worried? I’ve never looked forward to wiping someone out so much in all my years of wrestling. It’s going to be one of the more gruesome nights in this business’s history. I know slicing up a man’s face with a piece of broken glass will be hard to top, but having the final fall take place in a cage is as good an opportunity as any.”
Grimm sat on a bench along the Manteo waterfront with one of the nameless scallywags that made up the Brethren of the Coast. Boats of all shapes and sizes were tied up to the dock, bobbing in the water with the occasional ‘thump’ against the pilings. The sun radiated down through a cloudless sky, but it was far from unpleasant. The wind saw to that.
“It’s cause and effect. The law of nature. Entropy, if you will. Order is unnatural; chaos is the final destination. Mikey Wryght fights for fame, for glory, for a reaction. For the gold. I, on the other hand…I fight because. “
Phinehas’s companion stared at him, eyes blinking dully in the sun. He was a simple man of the sea, whose only purpose in life (until called into the Brethren, that is) was to catch fish and stink. Mostly the latter. He didn’t care much for why Phinehas Grimm carried out those unspeakable acts. Just as long as he did it. And Grimm didn’t care if he understood a word he was saying. This was all for his own personal benefit, anyway. Everything else was secondary.
“It all comes down to free will. It’s our choices who make us who we are. On one end of the spectrum, you have the lost like Mr. Showtime who have spent their entire lives basing their decisions upon what will get them that much needed approval. Be it positive or negative, they are adrift without a rudder if they aren’t constantly being reinforced by those around them. Trying to justify their empty existence through the reactions of others.”
“On the other end of the spectrum, and there are admittedly few, are those who manage to function without constantly comparing themselves to the rest, basing their worth on what the world says they are worth. This world has nothing I need. I decide what I do, and why I do it. Not for the roaring crowds or the pop of the flashbulbs. For Grimm.”
“And I say Mikey Wryght will soon be dead to me.”
Phinehas got to his feet and walked down the boardwalk with his fellow Brother of the Coast quickly in tow, footsteps echoing off the wooden planks. Turning the corner around the waterfront shops, they disappeared, leaving only a returning sailor and a few sporadic tourists to take their place.
Some would argue otherwise, but Phinehas wasn’t an idiot. He knew full well that even after the Abomination of Desolation laid waste to the Frickin’ Superstar and retained his well-deserved International title, that would not be the end of it. It would never end. Mikey Wryght was unable to accept the fact that, believe it or not, he was not the end-all, be-all when it came to professional wrestling. There were those who were more talented, more ruthless, more driven. But Wryght would stay the course, coming back to disrupt matches in which he had been deemed unworthy of participation. He could try to give the impression that he would do no such thing, but Grimm knew better. Time would prove Wryght to be a liar. And so, as was stated before, Grimm knew what he had to do. He had to make certain that whether or not they took it to the final cage match at Collision Course, Wryght would no longer be a concern. For anyone.
“Don’t worry about it, Phinehas. This is long overdue.”
“Who said anything about being worried? I’ve never looked forward to wiping someone out so much in all my years of wrestling. It’s going to be one of the more gruesome nights in this business’s history. I know slicing up a man’s face with a piece of broken glass will be hard to top, but having the final fall take place in a cage is as good an opportunity as any.”
Grimm sat on a bench along the Manteo waterfront with one of the nameless scallywags that made up the Brethren of the Coast. Boats of all shapes and sizes were tied up to the dock, bobbing in the water with the occasional ‘thump’ against the pilings. The sun radiated down through a cloudless sky, but it was far from unpleasant. The wind saw to that.
“It’s cause and effect. The law of nature. Entropy, if you will. Order is unnatural; chaos is the final destination. Mikey Wryght fights for fame, for glory, for a reaction. For the gold. I, on the other hand…I fight because. “
Phinehas’s companion stared at him, eyes blinking dully in the sun. He was a simple man of the sea, whose only purpose in life (until called into the Brethren, that is) was to catch fish and stink. Mostly the latter. He didn’t care much for why Phinehas Grimm carried out those unspeakable acts. Just as long as he did it. And Grimm didn’t care if he understood a word he was saying. This was all for his own personal benefit, anyway. Everything else was secondary.
“It all comes down to free will. It’s our choices who make us who we are. On one end of the spectrum, you have the lost like Mr. Showtime who have spent their entire lives basing their decisions upon what will get them that much needed approval. Be it positive or negative, they are adrift without a rudder if they aren’t constantly being reinforced by those around them. Trying to justify their empty existence through the reactions of others.”
“On the other end of the spectrum, and there are admittedly few, are those who manage to function without constantly comparing themselves to the rest, basing their worth on what the world says they are worth. This world has nothing I need. I decide what I do, and why I do it. Not for the roaring crowds or the pop of the flashbulbs. For Grimm.”
“And I say Mikey Wryght will soon be dead to me.”
Phinehas got to his feet and walked down the boardwalk with his fellow Brother of the Coast quickly in tow, footsteps echoing off the wooden planks. Turning the corner around the waterfront shops, they disappeared, leaving only a returning sailor and a few sporadic tourists to take their place.
