Post by Sadistic on Jun 24, 2015 21:14:09 GMT -5
If only he'd had somebody to talk to all those months ago. Somebody to advise him. Somebody to decipher the meaning of it all.
The dreams.
Actually, it was just one dream. Over and over and over again. It was the same every time. William had every motion memorized. Every breath of air. Every drop of sweat. It was all imprinted into his Swiss cheese brain like coded hieroglyphics. The elder Dillinger was known for his dream-walking ways, as were Phinehas and Ruth, but this repetitious scene had boggled his mind.
Hell, Phinehas wasn't even sure what to make of it. While the actions of the sequence were puzzling in and of themselves, it was William's partner in the episode that left them at a loss. It wasn't a nightmare by any means, but William's frustration at the lack of a proper explanation had been festering for nearly a year and threatened to boil over.
Why?
Why was it this particular dream? Why the wacky, violent setting? And why was she in it?
Women.
William's difficulties with the opposite sex were mounting quickly as he expressed his worries to the most important woman in his life: Ruth Dillinger. William's younger sister, the apple of his eye, stood at the cutting board in their cozy kitchen preparing an unknown meat. Her charcoal-colored eyes, just barely dull enough to differentiate them from her pupils, found her brother's mesmerizing gaze as her hands worked the kitchen knife absentmindedly.
“First, it's Eira. Then Gem decided to stick her nose in. Then Kelli Starr,” droned William, his messy bushel of salt n' pepper hair hanging wild and filthy. The mention of Miss Starr caused Ruth's eyes to narrow, but her brother claimed ignorance to the offense. “And now I've drawn the psychotic Alexa Black from the top of the deck.”
“Under different circumstances, that would be quite the little black book,” joked his sister. William's smile was nowhere to be found. As attractive as each woman was in her own unique way, the thought of the Hangtown Horror having a romantic relationship with even one of them just didn't make sense. Neither William or his siblings had even so much as hinted at an interest in pursuits of the flesh. It was often joked about in the locker room – when William wasn't present, of course – that the only thing that could tighten his pants was the physical or mental suffering of others.
Which wasn't too far from the truth. Hence the ring name Billy Sadistic.
But back to the matter at hand. “Just when I thought I'd rid myself of Eira and Gem, they're clawing at my heels. Again. And Eira claims that her big lummox Murdoc is on the loose once again, which is worrisome no matter how you look at it. Kelli is another matter entirely...”
Sadistic lost himself in thought upon uttering the name of his Candy Girl. Ruth let out a sigh of disgust as she began to dice the greens and starches. Ruth was brewing up some of her famous stew. Couldn't let all of that perfectly good meat go to waste. The comforting aroma of Ruth's concoction filled his nostrils as his brainwaves focused themselves elsewhere. Kelli Starr. Vibrant. Colorful. Cheerful to a fault. Yet intrusive, idiotic, and bumbling all at the same time. He couldn't quite quantify his feelings for the unorthodox beauty. While her seductive nature and inability to follow the simplest of instructions irked him to no end, there was a certain charm to her obliviousness. Make no mistake, there was nothing friendly about their arrangement. William would use her to fulfill the Black Hand's needs at the drop of a hat and not think twice in doing so.
“Where was I,” questioned William as he snapped back to reality.
“Kelli Starr...” hissed Ruth, her disdain for the woman evident in every syllable.
“Ah, yes,” remembered Dillinger. “Leave Kelli to me. She'll do as she's told, or those she cares about will suffer dearly.”
Ruth gave a satisfied nod of agreement as she scooped the vegetables into the cast iron cooking pot. “Now about this Alexa Black...” Ruth observed her brother from the corner of her eye. His reaction to the name only reaffirmed her suspicions. The dream had persisted.
It was always the same dream. Two lone warriors standing across from one another in a gladiator's arena. The bowl of the stadium was filled to the brim yet cloaked in darkness with spectators anonymously crying out for blood and glory. William knelt on one side of the combat field, his knee impressing into the dirt floor. A silver pump action twelve gauge shotgun was slung across his back as he gazed across the dirt arena at his opposition. A woman – a muscular woman – stood opposite him on the far side of the opening, her feet shoulder width apart. She held a matching black shotgun across her chest. The two squinted at one another in the dimness. Neither knew why they were about to do battle, and neither cared. Without warning, bright white lights exposed the arena.
In a flash, Sadistic pulled the shotgun from his back and pumped a shell into the chamber while instinctively rolling to his right. The powerfully built woman had already veered to her right while firing off a shot in his direction. At such a distance, the 00 buckshot bounced harmlessly off of the Phenom's stained tank top and he returned fire. The woman was quick, her black hair trailing behind her as she moved. The combatants circled each other in a wide, arcing circle. The strategy was a painful one. Get close enough for the scatter shot to inflict damage, yet stay far enough away that one is not torn to bits. Collateral damage was inevitable.
The pair continued to circle while returning fire as the gap between the two pinched smaller and smaller. Spent shells tumbled through the air and rolled across the hard, trampled earth. One of the woman's shots found its target with several of the pellets embedding themselves in Sadistic's arm and shoulder. The blast spun Billy's upper torso but did not break his stride. Pumping a new shell into the chamber, he returned fire from the hip with the spray catching the woman in the hip and legs. They drew dangerously close with each shot inflicting at least minor damage as spent cartridges littered the arena.
With mere feet between them, Sadistic scored with a direct hit to the chest that tore away clothing and ripped through flesh. It was a blast aimed directly at the woman's heart, and the burning sensation compelled her to cry out in agony. Yet still she persisted with a deadly spray that ripped large portions of the Phenom's skin and beard from the left side of his face. His cheek was all but obliterated with skin hanging in loose strands and portions of his jaw bone left exposed, scrubbed clean by the cruel pellets. Blood glazed over his left eye as he leveled the gun barrel at his adversary. The woman, her black garb ripped and bare in places and replaced with flayed wounds and pulverized flesh, did the same. Simultaneously and at point blank range, both gladiators attempted to end it with a death blow.
*CLICK!*
Surprise – and panic – overcame the duo as they both fumbled to load one more shell into their weapon.
Alexa Black deftly stuffed a cartridge into the shotgun and pumped it into the chamber...but Sadistic was quicker. Stuffing the end of the barrel into Miss Black's mouth, the barrel making an uncomfortable sound off of her teeth, he readied the shell for discharge. Realizing defeat and making peace with her fate, she tossed her weapon proudly to the blood-stained earth and dropped to her knees, her black widow eyes never leaving her enemy.
Defiant in defeat, Alexa uttered her final words. Contrary to popular belief, you can utter more than just vowels with a gun barrel in your mouth. “I'm not scared of you.” And she bit down on the barrel while peacefully closing her eyes.
“You will be.”
For months, he'd toiled and troubled over the meaning of that recurring dream. The recurring violence, bloodshed, and agonizing death. He couldn't make heads or tails of it...until now. Finally, it all made sense.
For weeks, he'd thought the Black Hand meant to induct Alexa into their ranks. It made sense on the surface. She was incredibly powerful, incredibly violent, and incredibly remorseless. But a little deeper digging revealed some very undesirable character qualities. She was uncontrollable, insatiable, and unpredictable. Her lust for blood and carnage was no secret, and her destructive desires were often fulfilled on a whim. Her impressive mean streak was matched only by her untrustworthiness. And that was something that the Black Hand could not abide.
So why, then? Why Alexa Black, over and over and over again? Why her? Sadistic had made the mistake of overthinking the whole situation. This wasn't some complex riddle that had been teasing him all these months. It was quite simple, and it had been staring him in the face the whole time. Billy Sadistic was to punish Alexa Black. But not just defeat her...no. He was to make an example of her. The most violent, blood-thirsty psychopath in Pure Class Wrestling. The Black Hand wanted to continue forming PCW into their own brand, and what better way than demolishing the federation's most vile criminal at her own game?
Today's Forecast: Déjà vu, sweltering heat, and blood like a river.
Billy Sadistic was finally being asked to live up to his name, and he'd do so graciously. Alexa had a big mouth, and while PCW wouldn't condone him stuffing it with a shotgun, a fist would certainly suffice. Ruth's pre-Trauma supper would be plum full of the pain and suffering of others, and William would be sure to put on an arousing performance.
NEX ADDO
The dreams.
Actually, it was just one dream. Over and over and over again. It was the same every time. William had every motion memorized. Every breath of air. Every drop of sweat. It was all imprinted into his Swiss cheese brain like coded hieroglyphics. The elder Dillinger was known for his dream-walking ways, as were Phinehas and Ruth, but this repetitious scene had boggled his mind.
Hell, Phinehas wasn't even sure what to make of it. While the actions of the sequence were puzzling in and of themselves, it was William's partner in the episode that left them at a loss. It wasn't a nightmare by any means, but William's frustration at the lack of a proper explanation had been festering for nearly a year and threatened to boil over.
Why?
Why was it this particular dream? Why the wacky, violent setting? And why was she in it?
* * *
Women.
William's difficulties with the opposite sex were mounting quickly as he expressed his worries to the most important woman in his life: Ruth Dillinger. William's younger sister, the apple of his eye, stood at the cutting board in their cozy kitchen preparing an unknown meat. Her charcoal-colored eyes, just barely dull enough to differentiate them from her pupils, found her brother's mesmerizing gaze as her hands worked the kitchen knife absentmindedly.
“First, it's Eira. Then Gem decided to stick her nose in. Then Kelli Starr,” droned William, his messy bushel of salt n' pepper hair hanging wild and filthy. The mention of Miss Starr caused Ruth's eyes to narrow, but her brother claimed ignorance to the offense. “And now I've drawn the psychotic Alexa Black from the top of the deck.”
“Under different circumstances, that would be quite the little black book,” joked his sister. William's smile was nowhere to be found. As attractive as each woman was in her own unique way, the thought of the Hangtown Horror having a romantic relationship with even one of them just didn't make sense. Neither William or his siblings had even so much as hinted at an interest in pursuits of the flesh. It was often joked about in the locker room – when William wasn't present, of course – that the only thing that could tighten his pants was the physical or mental suffering of others.
Which wasn't too far from the truth. Hence the ring name Billy Sadistic.
But back to the matter at hand. “Just when I thought I'd rid myself of Eira and Gem, they're clawing at my heels. Again. And Eira claims that her big lummox Murdoc is on the loose once again, which is worrisome no matter how you look at it. Kelli is another matter entirely...”
Sadistic lost himself in thought upon uttering the name of his Candy Girl. Ruth let out a sigh of disgust as she began to dice the greens and starches. Ruth was brewing up some of her famous stew. Couldn't let all of that perfectly good meat go to waste. The comforting aroma of Ruth's concoction filled his nostrils as his brainwaves focused themselves elsewhere. Kelli Starr. Vibrant. Colorful. Cheerful to a fault. Yet intrusive, idiotic, and bumbling all at the same time. He couldn't quite quantify his feelings for the unorthodox beauty. While her seductive nature and inability to follow the simplest of instructions irked him to no end, there was a certain charm to her obliviousness. Make no mistake, there was nothing friendly about their arrangement. William would use her to fulfill the Black Hand's needs at the drop of a hat and not think twice in doing so.
“Where was I,” questioned William as he snapped back to reality.
“Kelli Starr...” hissed Ruth, her disdain for the woman evident in every syllable.
“Ah, yes,” remembered Dillinger. “Leave Kelli to me. She'll do as she's told, or those she cares about will suffer dearly.”
Ruth gave a satisfied nod of agreement as she scooped the vegetables into the cast iron cooking pot. “Now about this Alexa Black...” Ruth observed her brother from the corner of her eye. His reaction to the name only reaffirmed her suspicions. The dream had persisted.
* * *
It was always the same dream. Two lone warriors standing across from one another in a gladiator's arena. The bowl of the stadium was filled to the brim yet cloaked in darkness with spectators anonymously crying out for blood and glory. William knelt on one side of the combat field, his knee impressing into the dirt floor. A silver pump action twelve gauge shotgun was slung across his back as he gazed across the dirt arena at his opposition. A woman – a muscular woman – stood opposite him on the far side of the opening, her feet shoulder width apart. She held a matching black shotgun across her chest. The two squinted at one another in the dimness. Neither knew why they were about to do battle, and neither cared. Without warning, bright white lights exposed the arena.
In a flash, Sadistic pulled the shotgun from his back and pumped a shell into the chamber while instinctively rolling to his right. The powerfully built woman had already veered to her right while firing off a shot in his direction. At such a distance, the 00 buckshot bounced harmlessly off of the Phenom's stained tank top and he returned fire. The woman was quick, her black hair trailing behind her as she moved. The combatants circled each other in a wide, arcing circle. The strategy was a painful one. Get close enough for the scatter shot to inflict damage, yet stay far enough away that one is not torn to bits. Collateral damage was inevitable.
The pair continued to circle while returning fire as the gap between the two pinched smaller and smaller. Spent shells tumbled through the air and rolled across the hard, trampled earth. One of the woman's shots found its target with several of the pellets embedding themselves in Sadistic's arm and shoulder. The blast spun Billy's upper torso but did not break his stride. Pumping a new shell into the chamber, he returned fire from the hip with the spray catching the woman in the hip and legs. They drew dangerously close with each shot inflicting at least minor damage as spent cartridges littered the arena.
With mere feet between them, Sadistic scored with a direct hit to the chest that tore away clothing and ripped through flesh. It was a blast aimed directly at the woman's heart, and the burning sensation compelled her to cry out in agony. Yet still she persisted with a deadly spray that ripped large portions of the Phenom's skin and beard from the left side of his face. His cheek was all but obliterated with skin hanging in loose strands and portions of his jaw bone left exposed, scrubbed clean by the cruel pellets. Blood glazed over his left eye as he leveled the gun barrel at his adversary. The woman, her black garb ripped and bare in places and replaced with flayed wounds and pulverized flesh, did the same. Simultaneously and at point blank range, both gladiators attempted to end it with a death blow.
*CLICK!*
Surprise – and panic – overcame the duo as they both fumbled to load one more shell into their weapon.
Alexa Black deftly stuffed a cartridge into the shotgun and pumped it into the chamber...but Sadistic was quicker. Stuffing the end of the barrel into Miss Black's mouth, the barrel making an uncomfortable sound off of her teeth, he readied the shell for discharge. Realizing defeat and making peace with her fate, she tossed her weapon proudly to the blood-stained earth and dropped to her knees, her black widow eyes never leaving her enemy.
Defiant in defeat, Alexa uttered her final words. Contrary to popular belief, you can utter more than just vowels with a gun barrel in your mouth. “I'm not scared of you.” And she bit down on the barrel while peacefully closing her eyes.
“You will be.”
BOOM!!!
* * *
For months, he'd toiled and troubled over the meaning of that recurring dream. The recurring violence, bloodshed, and agonizing death. He couldn't make heads or tails of it...until now. Finally, it all made sense.
For weeks, he'd thought the Black Hand meant to induct Alexa into their ranks. It made sense on the surface. She was incredibly powerful, incredibly violent, and incredibly remorseless. But a little deeper digging revealed some very undesirable character qualities. She was uncontrollable, insatiable, and unpredictable. Her lust for blood and carnage was no secret, and her destructive desires were often fulfilled on a whim. Her impressive mean streak was matched only by her untrustworthiness. And that was something that the Black Hand could not abide.
So why, then? Why Alexa Black, over and over and over again? Why her? Sadistic had made the mistake of overthinking the whole situation. This wasn't some complex riddle that had been teasing him all these months. It was quite simple, and it had been staring him in the face the whole time. Billy Sadistic was to punish Alexa Black. But not just defeat her...no. He was to make an example of her. The most violent, blood-thirsty psychopath in Pure Class Wrestling. The Black Hand wanted to continue forming PCW into their own brand, and what better way than demolishing the federation's most vile criminal at her own game?
Today's Forecast: Déjà vu, sweltering heat, and blood like a river.
Billy Sadistic was finally being asked to live up to his name, and he'd do so graciously. Alexa had a big mouth, and while PCW wouldn't condone him stuffing it with a shotgun, a fist would certainly suffice. Ruth's pre-Trauma supper would be plum full of the pain and suffering of others, and William would be sure to put on an arousing performance.
NEX ADDO
