Post by Loki on Nov 6, 2006 20:50:22 GMT -5
My laptop crashed against the wall.
“SON OF A BITCH”
I had just read the email with this week’s card and I was livid. That fucking Judas, that self serving piece of shit, my former partner and best friend Kaden was booked at the top of the card. In a god damn World Title match of all things, and where was I? I was jerking the curtain against some new guy. I pounded my fists on the table in frustration. It hurt, I was never going to be able to “take it easy” like Doctor Yamato said I should. I picked up the bottle of Oxycodone that he had given me and stared at it. The pain in my ribs was nothing compared to the pain of betrayal that was coursing through my body.
I threw the pill bottle against the wall as well. The flimsy plastic cap broke in half as it impacted on the wall, scattering the pills across the floor. I stumbled backwards, I was exhausted. The last twenty four hours had been among the darkest times in my life, no it was the darkest. The death of my bastard father, the estrangement of my egotistical and cold hearted mother, mere shades of grey compared to this betrayal.
I felt utterly exhausted; I knew that sleep would come soon. But I didn’t want to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kaden, I saw him sucker punching me, I saw him stomping down on my already broken ribs. No, sleep was the last thing I wanted right now. I couldn’t stop now, I couldn’t just give up. To give in now and let myself be beaten was to prove to the world that I was weak, that the only reason I had ever been a champion was because Kaden had carried the team.
I forced myself to stand, and promptly fell back down. I felt pathetic; I didn’t even have the strength to stand up on my own. No, that wasn’t right, I was strong enough, I knew I was. So why couldn’t I do it?
“You know why you can’t Keenan. Because you’re not trying hard enough. Now stop being a pussy and stand the fuck up!” I said to myself.
I braced my hands against the wall and pushed myself up to my knees. Pain flashed through my entire body and I nearly vomited. But I swallowed my gorge and pushed myself further.
“Keep going Keenan. You’re half way there.”
I forced myself to one knee and the pain kept pace with me. My head was swimming now and brightly colored spots were dancing in my eyes. I was either going to make it to my feet or pass out. But I knew I couldn’t give in now, not when I was so close. One final push and I was up, I had done it. My knees started to buckle and I grabbed the table for support.
I was sweating hard and breathing heavy by the time I was positive that my knees would not give out on me. Leaning heavily on the wall, I was able to stagger my way into my bedroom. I was going to give in and let my body do what was best for it, and right now that was sleep. Lacking the strength and the mental clarity to undress, I just fell onto my bed, asleep before my body had even landed.
I woke up in a very different place. Gone was my comfortable bed, gone was my familiar apartment, hell everything was gone. I awoke to a none to gentle prod of a foot in my already injured ribs. I groaned and was prodded again. I decided that next time he prodded me I was going to take a chunk out of his calf. Well the third prod never came, instead came a full force kick. I yelled out and curled into a fetal position, so much for taking a bite of his calf, I probably couldn’t even stand after that.
“Wake up you filthy vermin.”
I looked at the man who had kicked me and was instantly taken aback. He was dressed in a simple cloth tunic, cloth shorts, and leather sandals that were laced all the way up his leg. If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn that this guy was a Roman Legionnaire. I got up to my feet; it was a hell of a lot easier than it had been before I went to sleep.
“What the hell is this, some kind of them restaurant?”
“A what? Bloody hell, your more daft than they said you were.”
Now I was curious. I knew they had those medieval theme restaurants, but I’d never heard of one that had a roman theme. Come to think of it, I’d never heard of any kind of restaurant that just randomly nabbed someone while they were sleeping either.
“Ok I get it, this is one of those prank shows. Ok you got me. Where are the cameras?”
The guy in the roman costume looked at me like I was crazy.
“What’s this camera you speak of? Some kind of weapon?
I laughed at him, “Man you are good, but you can drop the act man, there’s no one around. So come on, tell me. Where the fuck am I?”
I gave him a good natured punch on the shoulder and in that split second I watched his expression changed from confusion to rage. And in the next split second I watched him draw his sword. He thrust the tip of it at my throat and stopped just short.
“You dare defile the uniform of a Legionnaire with your filthy Christian hands. You’re lucky I don’t cut your throat right here and leave you to rot.”
He circled around me, the tip of the blade never leaving my throat.
“Now move you filthy wretch, into the coliseum with you.”
I stood there stunned. This couldn’t be real, there was no way this was real. I lived in fucking South Carolina, the closest thing we had to a coliseum was the fucking football stadium. He slapped the side of head with the flat of the sword blade. That felt real enough to shock me back out of stunned silence. He walked around behind me and prodded me in the small of the back; that felt pretty damn real as well.
“Now move your ass.”
He prodded me again and I started walking. I was going to die here, tonight, dressed in some crappy toga thing. He led me to a large set of double doors and told me to wait there. He turned to leave but stopped mid turn.
“There are guards in the next room. If you try to run, they will kill you, and wouldn’t it be such a shame if Emperor Nero didn’t get to see another of you filthy heretics die at the hands of his beasts.”
I stood in front of the doors listening to the roar of the crowds on the other side. This wasn’t so different from a wrestling match, hell might even be kind of fun. Then came the screams, they sounded like the screams of a man being ripped in half. And the audience just cheered. So much for being fun, I was downright terrified now. The doors started to creak and then a sliver of light appeared in the middle.
“Oh shit.”
The doors opened a little further and the light was blinding in contrast to the gloomy shadows. I shaded my eyes and things started to take shape. There was a man in the center of the arena and he was holding something. As my eyes focused I saw what he was holding. It was a severed head, the mouth was horribly twisted in a macabre grin. The man holding the head turned to face me. It was Kaden.
I shot out of bed with a start, the sudden jerking motion playing hell on my ribs. As I sat there hunched over on my bed my mind flashed back to what I had just dreamed. Was I afraid of Kaden? That couldn’t be true, I wasn’t afraid of anything. Grimm, Silence, Lantlas, I wasn’t afraid of any of them, I sure as hell wasn’t afraid of Kaden. My thoughts wondered back to my ruined laptop, to the card. I was slated to face two new upstarts this week, Ryan O’neal and Ryan Patrick. Oh well at least I had someone to take my frustrations out on.
I kind of felt sorry for them. They were just two new kids in PCW, and for their first ever match they got stuck with a pissed of me. I had plenty of anger seething below the surface. Aimed directly at Kaden, but with him coddling Skyler’s testicles and getting a fucking world title match, well these two would have to do. There was a knock on the door and I jumped about a foot off my bed.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. And I knew Kaden wasn’t stupid enough to show up back here. I was stiff as I got up off the bed, but at least my fucking ribs didn’t hurt like before. I walked towards the door and the knocking resumed.
“Ya, ya, ya I’m coming.”
I wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side, I don’t think anyone would have been. It was a kid, maybe about fourteen or fifteen years old.
“Can I help you?”
“Maybe you can, I’m looking for James Keenan.”
“Well you found him, who the hell are you?”
“I’m your little brother…..”
“SON OF A BITCH”
I had just read the email with this week’s card and I was livid. That fucking Judas, that self serving piece of shit, my former partner and best friend Kaden was booked at the top of the card. In a god damn World Title match of all things, and where was I? I was jerking the curtain against some new guy. I pounded my fists on the table in frustration. It hurt, I was never going to be able to “take it easy” like Doctor Yamato said I should. I picked up the bottle of Oxycodone that he had given me and stared at it. The pain in my ribs was nothing compared to the pain of betrayal that was coursing through my body.
I threw the pill bottle against the wall as well. The flimsy plastic cap broke in half as it impacted on the wall, scattering the pills across the floor. I stumbled backwards, I was exhausted. The last twenty four hours had been among the darkest times in my life, no it was the darkest. The death of my bastard father, the estrangement of my egotistical and cold hearted mother, mere shades of grey compared to this betrayal.
I felt utterly exhausted; I knew that sleep would come soon. But I didn’t want to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kaden, I saw him sucker punching me, I saw him stomping down on my already broken ribs. No, sleep was the last thing I wanted right now. I couldn’t stop now, I couldn’t just give up. To give in now and let myself be beaten was to prove to the world that I was weak, that the only reason I had ever been a champion was because Kaden had carried the team.
I forced myself to stand, and promptly fell back down. I felt pathetic; I didn’t even have the strength to stand up on my own. No, that wasn’t right, I was strong enough, I knew I was. So why couldn’t I do it?
“You know why you can’t Keenan. Because you’re not trying hard enough. Now stop being a pussy and stand the fuck up!” I said to myself.
I braced my hands against the wall and pushed myself up to my knees. Pain flashed through my entire body and I nearly vomited. But I swallowed my gorge and pushed myself further.
“Keep going Keenan. You’re half way there.”
I forced myself to one knee and the pain kept pace with me. My head was swimming now and brightly colored spots were dancing in my eyes. I was either going to make it to my feet or pass out. But I knew I couldn’t give in now, not when I was so close. One final push and I was up, I had done it. My knees started to buckle and I grabbed the table for support.
I was sweating hard and breathing heavy by the time I was positive that my knees would not give out on me. Leaning heavily on the wall, I was able to stagger my way into my bedroom. I was going to give in and let my body do what was best for it, and right now that was sleep. Lacking the strength and the mental clarity to undress, I just fell onto my bed, asleep before my body had even landed.
I woke up in a very different place. Gone was my comfortable bed, gone was my familiar apartment, hell everything was gone. I awoke to a none to gentle prod of a foot in my already injured ribs. I groaned and was prodded again. I decided that next time he prodded me I was going to take a chunk out of his calf. Well the third prod never came, instead came a full force kick. I yelled out and curled into a fetal position, so much for taking a bite of his calf, I probably couldn’t even stand after that.
“Wake up you filthy vermin.”
I looked at the man who had kicked me and was instantly taken aback. He was dressed in a simple cloth tunic, cloth shorts, and leather sandals that were laced all the way up his leg. If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn that this guy was a Roman Legionnaire. I got up to my feet; it was a hell of a lot easier than it had been before I went to sleep.
“What the hell is this, some kind of them restaurant?”
“A what? Bloody hell, your more daft than they said you were.”
Now I was curious. I knew they had those medieval theme restaurants, but I’d never heard of one that had a roman theme. Come to think of it, I’d never heard of any kind of restaurant that just randomly nabbed someone while they were sleeping either.
“Ok I get it, this is one of those prank shows. Ok you got me. Where are the cameras?”
The guy in the roman costume looked at me like I was crazy.
“What’s this camera you speak of? Some kind of weapon?
I laughed at him, “Man you are good, but you can drop the act man, there’s no one around. So come on, tell me. Where the fuck am I?”
I gave him a good natured punch on the shoulder and in that split second I watched his expression changed from confusion to rage. And in the next split second I watched him draw his sword. He thrust the tip of it at my throat and stopped just short.
“You dare defile the uniform of a Legionnaire with your filthy Christian hands. You’re lucky I don’t cut your throat right here and leave you to rot.”
He circled around me, the tip of the blade never leaving my throat.
“Now move you filthy wretch, into the coliseum with you.”
I stood there stunned. This couldn’t be real, there was no way this was real. I lived in fucking South Carolina, the closest thing we had to a coliseum was the fucking football stadium. He slapped the side of head with the flat of the sword blade. That felt real enough to shock me back out of stunned silence. He walked around behind me and prodded me in the small of the back; that felt pretty damn real as well.
“Now move your ass.”
He prodded me again and I started walking. I was going to die here, tonight, dressed in some crappy toga thing. He led me to a large set of double doors and told me to wait there. He turned to leave but stopped mid turn.
“There are guards in the next room. If you try to run, they will kill you, and wouldn’t it be such a shame if Emperor Nero didn’t get to see another of you filthy heretics die at the hands of his beasts.”
I stood in front of the doors listening to the roar of the crowds on the other side. This wasn’t so different from a wrestling match, hell might even be kind of fun. Then came the screams, they sounded like the screams of a man being ripped in half. And the audience just cheered. So much for being fun, I was downright terrified now. The doors started to creak and then a sliver of light appeared in the middle.
“Oh shit.”
The doors opened a little further and the light was blinding in contrast to the gloomy shadows. I shaded my eyes and things started to take shape. There was a man in the center of the arena and he was holding something. As my eyes focused I saw what he was holding. It was a severed head, the mouth was horribly twisted in a macabre grin. The man holding the head turned to face me. It was Kaden.
I shot out of bed with a start, the sudden jerking motion playing hell on my ribs. As I sat there hunched over on my bed my mind flashed back to what I had just dreamed. Was I afraid of Kaden? That couldn’t be true, I wasn’t afraid of anything. Grimm, Silence, Lantlas, I wasn’t afraid of any of them, I sure as hell wasn’t afraid of Kaden. My thoughts wondered back to my ruined laptop, to the card. I was slated to face two new upstarts this week, Ryan O’neal and Ryan Patrick. Oh well at least I had someone to take my frustrations out on.
I kind of felt sorry for them. They were just two new kids in PCW, and for their first ever match they got stuck with a pissed of me. I had plenty of anger seething below the surface. Aimed directly at Kaden, but with him coddling Skyler’s testicles and getting a fucking world title match, well these two would have to do. There was a knock on the door and I jumped about a foot off my bed.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. And I knew Kaden wasn’t stupid enough to show up back here. I was stiff as I got up off the bed, but at least my fucking ribs didn’t hurt like before. I walked towards the door and the knocking resumed.
“Ya, ya, ya I’m coming.”
I wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side, I don’t think anyone would have been. It was a kid, maybe about fourteen or fifteen years old.
“Can I help you?”
“Maybe you can, I’m looking for James Keenan.”
“Well you found him, who the hell are you?”
“I’m your little brother…..”
