Post by Grimm on Nov 20, 2006 16:38:28 GMT -5
“I can’t believe they reacted like that. You are the champ now. You deserve their admiration and respect. What kind of a world do we live in when a man such as Justin Michaels steals your thunder? He’s accomplished nothing. Nothing! And yet…”
“That’s quite enough.”
Grimm walked the creek bottoms. Enveloped by haze. Water trickled over rocks and slowly but surely cut deeper into the earth. He seemingly walked alone, but was conversing with someone. A voice on the other side of the rising mists continued its diatribe. Phinehas talked with a voice, not The Voice. This person had no affiliation with Grimm’s partner for the week. Grimm’s voice had not only witnessed, but taken part in activities that would make The Voice question whether or not his protégé was worth the trouble.
“It doesn’t matter who the crowd’s cheer. All their response got Stormm was another notch in the loss column. I had hoped you knew me better than that. If that’s not the case…”
“Oh, I know you, Phinehas. And I know what you’re capable of. That’s what upsets me so much about this professional wrestling nonsense. When are you going to get out of that mess and fully devote yourself to something worthwhile?”
The voice faded from one side of Grimm to the other. It sped up ‘til almost comical. It slowed down ‘til nothing more than a low rumble. It whispered ‘til only Grimm could hear. And the source was never visible. The veil of fog lifted momentarily to show the valley he/they traversed, the wet leaves turning to a dark organic pulp beneath the black waffled soles of his boots. Dead trees in all stages of decomposition littered his path. The air was thick with rotting wood and fungus. It felt like snow.
The fog descended.
And the voice returned.
“This needs to be addressed, Phinehas. He’s not working alone anymore. He’s attracting converts and I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to ignore this…this usurper in our midst.”
It sounded otherworldly, yet anxious. Nervous, even. Phinehas Grimm, on the other hand, did not.
“I thought I made this all perfectly clear before I left. I told you I would deal with this…with him…when I get back. I’m required to be here for now. I left you to handle the Brethren’s affairs in my absence. Don’t make me second-guess my decision. Replacing you would be quite unpleasant for everyone involved. But you already know all about that, don’t you?”
He detected the sound of lips parting in the beginning of a retort, but then heard teeth click and jaw shut. Grimm felt the entity depart from his presence, leaving him alone in the cold morning with only his footsteps and frosty wine-breath to accompany him along the edge of the creek. The fog was gone, but Phinehas found himself in the still-dark hollow with moonshine to show him the way. He had the sudden craving for a hot cup of tea, which he would fix once he returned to the House of Grimm.
Until then he kicked up leaf debris and broken twigs. Thinking back on his match with Justin Michaels, how he had succeeded, what he must do differently in the future if he was to have a respectable reign as PCW champion. Now was not the time to rest on his laurels, and now was definitely not the time to have this problem back East lurking in the shadows. He had to stay focused if he was to remain at the top. Despite his follower’s perceived lack of confidence, Grimm knew he would keep matters in check until he returned to the ocean. He still caught the occasional whiff of salt late at night and knew it was only a matter of time before he returned to his second home. And then…then the world would see Phinehas Grimm as he truly was. The Abomination of Desolation in the flesh. Not just a clever nickname picked up in the world of sports entertainment, but a persona of absolute fury and a willingness, no, a desire to erase all who opposed him from the face of the earth. With nothing so much as a memory left behind.
Grimm would defend his newly-won title against all comers. He would waylay all opponents with the utmost prejudice, whether the title was on the line or not, singles, tag team, everyman-for-himself-razor wire-cage match of doom…his mindset was the same and the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Phinehas Grimm had the target on his back, and he had no plans on relinquishing his place in line anytime soon. All the while, he would be found chuckling at the sight of the rest of the federation fighting for his table scraps. And when his time here in the hills and hollows was through, when he had accomplished all he set out to do here, he would return to the coast. To the sea.
And he would make things right.
“That’s quite enough.”
Grimm walked the creek bottoms. Enveloped by haze. Water trickled over rocks and slowly but surely cut deeper into the earth. He seemingly walked alone, but was conversing with someone. A voice on the other side of the rising mists continued its diatribe. Phinehas talked with a voice, not The Voice. This person had no affiliation with Grimm’s partner for the week. Grimm’s voice had not only witnessed, but taken part in activities that would make The Voice question whether or not his protégé was worth the trouble.
“It doesn’t matter who the crowd’s cheer. All their response got Stormm was another notch in the loss column. I had hoped you knew me better than that. If that’s not the case…”
“Oh, I know you, Phinehas. And I know what you’re capable of. That’s what upsets me so much about this professional wrestling nonsense. When are you going to get out of that mess and fully devote yourself to something worthwhile?”
The voice faded from one side of Grimm to the other. It sped up ‘til almost comical. It slowed down ‘til nothing more than a low rumble. It whispered ‘til only Grimm could hear. And the source was never visible. The veil of fog lifted momentarily to show the valley he/they traversed, the wet leaves turning to a dark organic pulp beneath the black waffled soles of his boots. Dead trees in all stages of decomposition littered his path. The air was thick with rotting wood and fungus. It felt like snow.
The fog descended.
And the voice returned.
“This needs to be addressed, Phinehas. He’s not working alone anymore. He’s attracting converts and I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to ignore this…this usurper in our midst.”
It sounded otherworldly, yet anxious. Nervous, even. Phinehas Grimm, on the other hand, did not.
“I thought I made this all perfectly clear before I left. I told you I would deal with this…with him…when I get back. I’m required to be here for now. I left you to handle the Brethren’s affairs in my absence. Don’t make me second-guess my decision. Replacing you would be quite unpleasant for everyone involved. But you already know all about that, don’t you?”
He detected the sound of lips parting in the beginning of a retort, but then heard teeth click and jaw shut. Grimm felt the entity depart from his presence, leaving him alone in the cold morning with only his footsteps and frosty wine-breath to accompany him along the edge of the creek. The fog was gone, but Phinehas found himself in the still-dark hollow with moonshine to show him the way. He had the sudden craving for a hot cup of tea, which he would fix once he returned to the House of Grimm.
Until then he kicked up leaf debris and broken twigs. Thinking back on his match with Justin Michaels, how he had succeeded, what he must do differently in the future if he was to have a respectable reign as PCW champion. Now was not the time to rest on his laurels, and now was definitely not the time to have this problem back East lurking in the shadows. He had to stay focused if he was to remain at the top. Despite his follower’s perceived lack of confidence, Grimm knew he would keep matters in check until he returned to the ocean. He still caught the occasional whiff of salt late at night and knew it was only a matter of time before he returned to his second home. And then…then the world would see Phinehas Grimm as he truly was. The Abomination of Desolation in the flesh. Not just a clever nickname picked up in the world of sports entertainment, but a persona of absolute fury and a willingness, no, a desire to erase all who opposed him from the face of the earth. With nothing so much as a memory left behind.
Grimm would defend his newly-won title against all comers. He would waylay all opponents with the utmost prejudice, whether the title was on the line or not, singles, tag team, everyman-for-himself-razor wire-cage match of doom…his mindset was the same and the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Phinehas Grimm had the target on his back, and he had no plans on relinquishing his place in line anytime soon. All the while, he would be found chuckling at the sight of the rest of the federation fighting for his table scraps. And when his time here in the hills and hollows was through, when he had accomplished all he set out to do here, he would return to the coast. To the sea.
And he would make things right.
