Post by Mr. Showtime on Mar 13, 2015 21:23:35 GMT -5
There are very few things in this world that “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght would believe impossible. He’s seen the damage a tiny but of fungus can do to a man’s psyche. He bore witness to a blue haired elf taking the wrestling industry by storm. He also swore he’s seen the Abomination of Desolation doing an Irish Jig. The last one alone would be enough to convince anyone that everything is possible. Though by the end of his night, he’d know for sure.
When he was brought into the Black Hand’s circle of trust he knew that they knew things. Ancient things that defied the rules of physics. It could be confused with magic, but only because that’s what they wanted you to think. The idea of normal people, whatever that meant, having powers that commoners couldn’t comprehend was not something one would advertise. Why would they. It would be like telling your enemy that you have a secret weapon. Don’t fool yourself, this was war.
In his preparation for war, Showtime found himself in the belly of the beast. The lair of the Black Hand defied all logic. Here man’s great question isn’t the meaning of life, but how to defy it. Men walk upstairs as their heads pointed to the floor. Or was it downstairs with their heads towards the ceiling. An answer that would probably haunt Showtime for the rest of his days.
The only way to truly describe what he was looking at was the lithographic print created by M.C. Escher. Everyone there had a purpose, and acted as if nothing was amiss. Not Showtime though. He was in awe of it all. He caught a glimpse of his brethren diving headlong into the gravity defying staircases. In that moment Showtime couldn’t help but think that it defined the trio’s relationship perfectly. Phinehas and William weren’t known for their meticulous nature. Running down a staircase that flips you upside down would halt them for a moment. Rather than take the time to weigh the consequences or even marvel at the wonder, they’re more apt to dive right in.
Some may call that a weakness, but not Showtime. He’d take the consequences of a hesitation to reap the benefits of a well thought out strategy later. He set out on a flight of stairs that seemed normal enough, falling in line with a member of the Black Hand unfamiliar to Showtime. Wryght wasn’t sure why he was there that night, but figured everything would fall into place eventually. But until then he was able to explore.
After finding himself at the top of his steps he opened a big wooden door and stepped through. When he exited he was not only back amongst the stair but four levels lower. It was a task that he managed countless times, even found himself passing his partners in the process. The climbers didn’t take much stock in their surroundings or the others that joined them, but Showtime felt he was different.
He went to open another door. This one wrought iron, and unique among the large oaken passages. He pulled at it hard, feeling as if his arm might separate at the sockets from its sturdiness. He gave it a few gentler shakes before realizing that there was an antique key in the catch and decided to turn it. The bolt slid open and he withdrew the key into his pocket. He never knew when he might need it.
As he stepped in the door slammed behind him causing him a fright. He turned around to find his way back, but the door had vanished. He was alone in a dark room when he heard a man clear his throat. He slowly turned to find a puff of orange ash blown into his face. The terror of the last year flashed before his eyes thinking that this would be the last time he ever thought of himself as Showtime.
It didn’t have the same effect for as much as he knew. He was able to clear out his eyes to see the shape of a long haired man, flanked by two woman. To his astonishment it was Whitey Ford with a shit eating grin standing before him. Showtime was ready for the fight when he recognized Gem and Eira on either side. Though before long he realized that both woman weren’t moving. Only Ford was animated while he awaiting Showtime to gain his bearings.
“Have we acclimated ourselves?” asked Ford in a condescending tone.
“How did you get here?” replies Showtime, still attempting to get the sour taste out of his mouth. “And what was that shit?”
“If I told you would you believe the answer?”
“Would it matter?”
Ford shrugs his shoulders, and produces a disarming smile, “Then we are at an impasse. Personally, I’d prefer to know what you are doing here.”
“I’m a member of The Black Hand, why wouldn’t I be?”
“See that is the part I don’t get. I understand why the Hangtown Hillbillies have embraced the voodoo that these heathens have produced, but not you. We’ve spent quite a bit of time together, you and I. We even considered each other friends. Hell I probably owe you my life at this point, or at least my freedom.”
Showtime cringed at the comment. It was well know that Showtime’s lawyers helped Ford beat the murder rap he had in Maine. The old Showtime was happy to help, but the new Showtime had contracted an acute case of morals. Ford noticed the distain, and continued, “Hasn’t sat well with you, has it? Thinking that you helped a guilty man, but if I’m not mistaken you came to me. I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Did you do it?”
“You were convinced of my innocence back then, weren’t you? Or was it just the thought of you riding in on your white horse to the rescue?”
“Did you do it?”
“I guess you’ll always have to speculate, because it’s me asking the questions here not you,” Ford replied, looking back at the frozen woman at his wings. He ran his finger through Gems hair and takes a long whiff of Eira’s. “You know that these two have meant absolutely nothing to me, right? I’m not engaged into this, any more than you are. You’ve gone through the motions with the Black Hand, but I think it’s about time you let this ruse die. We could do it together you know. You don’t need those two anymore that I need these cunts.”
He held that final word long enough to let the emphasis be heard. In Showtime’s opinion it was the most revolting word in the English language, and somehow Ford knew it. But as the rest of the statement settled, he realized that Ford mentioned others. He knew that he was referring to the Dillingers, but he didn’t expect them to be standing behind him. Showtime poked at Billy’s beard, but he was as motionless as his brother and the woman.
“Think about it Showtime, we could turn the tables on both groups. If you turn on these fools, the trusting woman would never see the second double cross coming. We’d rule Mass Destruction together, as easy as can be. It’d be one of the most legendary turns in PCW history.”
“Seriously?” Showtime asked, not sure what was happening.
“Why not?”
“You really don’t get it do you?” growled Showtime, as he approached his one-time friend. “This isn’t about wrestling for me any longer. This isn’t about making a name for myself or ratings anymore. This, all of this, is the pathway to a greater world. We were chosen to rebirth the world and like the phoenix we will rise from its ashes. I’ve sacrificed everything. I still don’t fully understand who I was, but I regret none of it. It is the dawn of The Black Hand and I will see it succeed. It doesn’t matter to me who stands in our way.”
Ford gives Showtime a mocking face but it doesn’t faze him, “Why don’t you join us Whitey? This is the perfect salvation for your sins. Regardless if you’ve committed the murder that you were accused of or not. I’m sure you’ve accumulated enough wrong doings to need redemption. It’s here for the taking my friend. Just reach out and grab it.”
Ford’s face dropped, as if Showtime had really got to him, “Really, you think that they’d take me in? After everything I’ve done I can still be saved? You think…”
Ford couldn’t finish is third sentence without bursting out in hysterical laughter. Between that and his struggles to breath he mocked Showtime’s attempt to bring him in. The mockery infuriated Showtime and once he got to his breaking point he threw a punch at the Asshole. At contact, in a cloud of dust, Ford vanished along with the other four frozen in time.
Showtime Knelt down and grabbed a handful of the powder. It was different that the kind that he once was poisoned by, but there were eerie similarities. As he left the substance fall through his hands, he could mutter only two words…
“NEX ADDO”
When he was brought into the Black Hand’s circle of trust he knew that they knew things. Ancient things that defied the rules of physics. It could be confused with magic, but only because that’s what they wanted you to think. The idea of normal people, whatever that meant, having powers that commoners couldn’t comprehend was not something one would advertise. Why would they. It would be like telling your enemy that you have a secret weapon. Don’t fool yourself, this was war.
In his preparation for war, Showtime found himself in the belly of the beast. The lair of the Black Hand defied all logic. Here man’s great question isn’t the meaning of life, but how to defy it. Men walk upstairs as their heads pointed to the floor. Or was it downstairs with their heads towards the ceiling. An answer that would probably haunt Showtime for the rest of his days.
The only way to truly describe what he was looking at was the lithographic print created by M.C. Escher. Everyone there had a purpose, and acted as if nothing was amiss. Not Showtime though. He was in awe of it all. He caught a glimpse of his brethren diving headlong into the gravity defying staircases. In that moment Showtime couldn’t help but think that it defined the trio’s relationship perfectly. Phinehas and William weren’t known for their meticulous nature. Running down a staircase that flips you upside down would halt them for a moment. Rather than take the time to weigh the consequences or even marvel at the wonder, they’re more apt to dive right in.
Some may call that a weakness, but not Showtime. He’d take the consequences of a hesitation to reap the benefits of a well thought out strategy later. He set out on a flight of stairs that seemed normal enough, falling in line with a member of the Black Hand unfamiliar to Showtime. Wryght wasn’t sure why he was there that night, but figured everything would fall into place eventually. But until then he was able to explore.
After finding himself at the top of his steps he opened a big wooden door and stepped through. When he exited he was not only back amongst the stair but four levels lower. It was a task that he managed countless times, even found himself passing his partners in the process. The climbers didn’t take much stock in their surroundings or the others that joined them, but Showtime felt he was different.
He went to open another door. This one wrought iron, and unique among the large oaken passages. He pulled at it hard, feeling as if his arm might separate at the sockets from its sturdiness. He gave it a few gentler shakes before realizing that there was an antique key in the catch and decided to turn it. The bolt slid open and he withdrew the key into his pocket. He never knew when he might need it.
As he stepped in the door slammed behind him causing him a fright. He turned around to find his way back, but the door had vanished. He was alone in a dark room when he heard a man clear his throat. He slowly turned to find a puff of orange ash blown into his face. The terror of the last year flashed before his eyes thinking that this would be the last time he ever thought of himself as Showtime.
It didn’t have the same effect for as much as he knew. He was able to clear out his eyes to see the shape of a long haired man, flanked by two woman. To his astonishment it was Whitey Ford with a shit eating grin standing before him. Showtime was ready for the fight when he recognized Gem and Eira on either side. Though before long he realized that both woman weren’t moving. Only Ford was animated while he awaiting Showtime to gain his bearings.
“Have we acclimated ourselves?” asked Ford in a condescending tone.
“How did you get here?” replies Showtime, still attempting to get the sour taste out of his mouth. “And what was that shit?”
“If I told you would you believe the answer?”
“Would it matter?”
Ford shrugs his shoulders, and produces a disarming smile, “Then we are at an impasse. Personally, I’d prefer to know what you are doing here.”
“I’m a member of The Black Hand, why wouldn’t I be?”
“See that is the part I don’t get. I understand why the Hangtown Hillbillies have embraced the voodoo that these heathens have produced, but not you. We’ve spent quite a bit of time together, you and I. We even considered each other friends. Hell I probably owe you my life at this point, or at least my freedom.”
Showtime cringed at the comment. It was well know that Showtime’s lawyers helped Ford beat the murder rap he had in Maine. The old Showtime was happy to help, but the new Showtime had contracted an acute case of morals. Ford noticed the distain, and continued, “Hasn’t sat well with you, has it? Thinking that you helped a guilty man, but if I’m not mistaken you came to me. I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Did you do it?”
“You were convinced of my innocence back then, weren’t you? Or was it just the thought of you riding in on your white horse to the rescue?”
“Did you do it?”
“I guess you’ll always have to speculate, because it’s me asking the questions here not you,” Ford replied, looking back at the frozen woman at his wings. He ran his finger through Gems hair and takes a long whiff of Eira’s. “You know that these two have meant absolutely nothing to me, right? I’m not engaged into this, any more than you are. You’ve gone through the motions with the Black Hand, but I think it’s about time you let this ruse die. We could do it together you know. You don’t need those two anymore that I need these cunts.”
He held that final word long enough to let the emphasis be heard. In Showtime’s opinion it was the most revolting word in the English language, and somehow Ford knew it. But as the rest of the statement settled, he realized that Ford mentioned others. He knew that he was referring to the Dillingers, but he didn’t expect them to be standing behind him. Showtime poked at Billy’s beard, but he was as motionless as his brother and the woman.
“Think about it Showtime, we could turn the tables on both groups. If you turn on these fools, the trusting woman would never see the second double cross coming. We’d rule Mass Destruction together, as easy as can be. It’d be one of the most legendary turns in PCW history.”
“Seriously?” Showtime asked, not sure what was happening.
“Why not?”
“You really don’t get it do you?” growled Showtime, as he approached his one-time friend. “This isn’t about wrestling for me any longer. This isn’t about making a name for myself or ratings anymore. This, all of this, is the pathway to a greater world. We were chosen to rebirth the world and like the phoenix we will rise from its ashes. I’ve sacrificed everything. I still don’t fully understand who I was, but I regret none of it. It is the dawn of The Black Hand and I will see it succeed. It doesn’t matter to me who stands in our way.”
Ford gives Showtime a mocking face but it doesn’t faze him, “Why don’t you join us Whitey? This is the perfect salvation for your sins. Regardless if you’ve committed the murder that you were accused of or not. I’m sure you’ve accumulated enough wrong doings to need redemption. It’s here for the taking my friend. Just reach out and grab it.”
Ford’s face dropped, as if Showtime had really got to him, “Really, you think that they’d take me in? After everything I’ve done I can still be saved? You think…”
Ford couldn’t finish is third sentence without bursting out in hysterical laughter. Between that and his struggles to breath he mocked Showtime’s attempt to bring him in. The mockery infuriated Showtime and once he got to his breaking point he threw a punch at the Asshole. At contact, in a cloud of dust, Ford vanished along with the other four frozen in time.
Showtime Knelt down and grabbed a handful of the powder. It was different that the kind that he once was poisoned by, but there were eerie similarities. As he left the substance fall through his hands, he could mutter only two words…
“NEX ADDO”
