Post by Cera on Jun 2, 2014 19:48:45 GMT -6
...Reason...
Love is lost, lives are taken, lies are told, identities mistaken; every day this goes on, and the world keeps spinning. Look around you... lift the veil. Fights break out, shots are fired, hearts are broken... and what are you left with? The body of your loved one rotting away in the dirt? Emotions you can't explain... resurfacing. Anger. Hatred. The hungry and desperate tugging at your conscience, as your demons beg to be let out. Come now... they only wanna play. They only wanna watch you squirm, as the tug of war between the good and evil inside you becomes almost unbearable... until you finally break. Funny how, with tragedy, we seem to change.
The dead are rolling in their graves...
Perhaps there's liable reason to it. Revenge against those who harm you or the people you care about... it seems only right. Unless your explanation intertwines with your ego. Women don't pay you enough attention? People aren't treating you as you'd like? Would you take up arms, pull out a shotgun, and put bullets in their heads? Would it make you feel more like a man? It's alright... we understand! Size doesn't matter... it's all in the way you use it. It's all about what you "prove". Too bad... that what you're doing? It's been done a million times...
Now now, don't overthink it...
Comparing people like... Tha Joka... people like... Brett Carson... to the little people who don't wanna be so little anymore? Who take it to such extremes that innocent lives are lost? Mass murderers with no common sense or... reason? How... cruel of me. Virginia Tech, Columbine, Sandy Hook, Aurora... they shouldn't be joked about (perhaps it's "too soon"?). Oh well. One can't help where their mind takes them... and that leads me to Carson. The kid's got arrogance that's unearned. Balls that haven't fully dropped. And a mouth that can only spew nonsense. Let's watch him puff his chest out... act ever-so "badass", as he bitches out his boss. As he attacks that faggot Bobby Backdoor. As it looks like the monster within him has been let out of it's cage... when really, the "lowest level athlete"... the "gum at the bottom of the roundtable"... the "Wannabe Mr Wrestling"... is simply nothing but an amateur.
Why'd you bring a shotgun... to the party? Why'd you bring a shotgun... to the party? Everybody's got one, there's nothing new about it. Wanna make a statement? You should've come without it...
I sat in the dark crimson colored chair, fingers drumming on the arm of it to Taylor Momsen's voice, as the Pretty Reckless blared in the background. The lights were dimmed, to the slightest degree, and the blinds were drawn. Curtains closed. Dark and secluded, left to my own vices. A certain little weapon sat on the table in front of me, gleaming in the light that was barely there. My pale eyes gazed down at that damn rusted over cheesegrater. I could see the slightest tint of blood on it. I could smell it. From others', to my own. Subconsciously, I lifted a finger to the wound on my forehead, then along any and all of the ones that were etched into my body.
I'd been sitting like this for 3 and a half hours...
My mind was running 50 miles per hour with no hope of stopping. Mostly because I'd... befuddled myself. Why had I come to Visionaries of Wrestling, a tiny little promotion that had just started? Perhaps it was because Stefan Frei, the owner and founder, had managed to snatch up a few big names... many of which I knew? The prospect of something fresh to sink my claws into...? Maybe because I had a... history... with the General Manager, Sly Sangue? No. I'd joined VoW, at least I'd thought at first, for the sole purpose of... a bittersweet battle with a clown. This man was dangerous. Volatile. I'd even say he craved bloodshed as much as your's truly. But I'd say he... overcompensates. Tries a little... too hard. Much like my very first opponent in this federation.
And that's where things start meshing together. Will this only last until I best the Clown Prince of Hardcore? Will it only last until the war between sociopaths is over? No... no no no, I'm seeing something very interesting, actually. And you could say I'm starting to develop a... "vision". Too many people in VoW are... overthinking things. Overthinking how to act, how to talk... what to say and do. And so it all comes out rehearsed and robotic. It comes out like you're faking it. All bark, no bite? How cute. Yet... also revolting.
What shall we do, then...?
My fingers stopped their repetitive tapping, as I closed my eyes in frustration. Those many voices, of all different tones and languages, had just boomed in my mind. Schizophrenia's a bitch, isn't it? Of course it's Jen's fault, for injecting me with that garbage and causing the gray matter in my brain to deteriorate. Why was I still letting her hang around again? I frowned in thought, before shrugging and finally pushing myself to my feet. I was sore. And I'm not just talking about my body. My pride had taken a beating, as I had at Joka's hands. Attacking me... crucifying me... humiliating me... on VoW's first event. I don't take that shit lightly... and I needed a taste of revenge... which is where this past week came from. And I didn't even need to resort to such fruitless violence, as he did...
"I'm simply smarter..." I murmured out loud, before leaning down to snatch up my decorative flask from the table. The cheesegrater still sat there, and I scowled at it as I straightened and unscrewed the cap of the container. But before the burn of my favorite drink (tequila) could reach my throat... I felt something slam against my back and knock me over! I flew to the ground, hitting the side of the table, and Joka's cheese grater fell off and hit me in the head. With an audible groan, I peered upward to hear a voice behind me... or rather, atop me...
"Daannng Cera Bear, your booty's gettin' bootylicious! All dat alcohol's makin' it all kindsa nice and plump! Oishi!!"
"Get... off... of me..."
"But... but... your bum's a nice pillow..."
"JENNIFER."
"OKAI FINE!" The smaller woman moved off of me and hopped to her feet, and I lifted a cold gaze to meet her's. Jen Ryette... my own personal stalker. I can't say she's never been useful to me. But fuck, did I want to beat the fucking shit out of her 90% of the time. I feel as if she was purposefully annoying and obnoxious to a brightly colored, fruity, and twitch-worthy extent... because I knew she had a darker side. I'd seen it. I'd experienced it. I, to some extent, feared it. Jen was a bubbly, lizard worshipping, fag loving lunatic. Too bad that was only one mask out of two...
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I don't know how many times I'd asked Jen this question, but her response was usually the same thing every time...
"Nobody knowwws!" Ryette giggled as she watched me stand up with now half empty flask in hand. Downing whatever was left in it, I let my eyes trail back to that fucking cheese grater. I'd knocked into the table, but... wouldn't that have just knocked the weapon over? It was in the middle of it... how did it? Blinking a few times, I laughed inwardly. I was just imagining things. Paranoid. Whatever. There were more important things to focus on, and I had to stop getting distracted.
"So where are you taking me today again?" I questioned Jen, who brushed herself off and smiled brightly at me.
"WOWZONE!"
"What?"
"FAMILY ENTERTAINMENT AT AFFORDABLE PRICES!"
"..."
"LASER TAG, GLOW MINI GOLF, AND MUCH MOAR!"
"So... you can go there. And I'll go to the gym." I snatched up my cellphone and headed for the door, as Jen stomped her foot and scurried after me.
"No no no! Ya gotta go WITH me! It ain't any fun alone!"
"Why don't you ask your butt buddy?" I mumbled, heading down the hall of the hotel we were at, as I physically grimaced at the thought of my friend Hazard's idiot manager, Spaz.
"Spazzy kinz is busy watchin' gay interracial pornz today... it takes some time ta get dem 9inches off, ya dig?"
"...I didn't need to know that."
"You asked!"
Putting a hand to my temple, I continued walking, until the two of us made it into the lobby and headed out the doors. Once in my rental, I took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Of course, Jen gave me a curious look... and I couldn't hold back. "I have something to prove."
"Eh? Wut? Ya kinda proved everything, ya dig? You overcame lotsa challenges and proved you were one of if not teh BESTEST female wrestler EVAR!"
"I'm not sure whether or not you're being sarcastic..."
"I ain't, gosh darn it!" Jen wailed, stomping her foot in the car now. I glowered at her for doing so, and she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. As I turned the ignition, and we eventually got onto the road, I spoke again...
"My point is... there's something that's bothering me in VoW... it's not just Joka. For some reason, there's something else eating at me about this federation. And I feel like it's going to cement me here..."
"Does it has to do with da baws bein' smexy?"
"You think that about anything with a dick... even inanimate objects..."
"Iono... I think da cheese gratah wif a disco stick would be real weird..."
"You'd still fuck it..."
"Yah, prolly."
I shook my head in disgust and glanced at the rainbow colored bag in Jen's lap. It held many things, including 'Trusty Rusty'. We had to keep that shit with us at all times. Too bad my match of the week was a standard match, and not weapons or no DQ or whatever. I'd just love to use the stupid cheese grater in a match, to not only piss Joka off, but to rip open some of the wannabes here. I couldn't help but grin at the thought, and Jen's red pet lizard Nova peered at me from her lap as well, and I looked back at the road quickly. After a couple of minutes, Ryette spoke again...
"One of your mannyyyy flaws is gettin' too distracted, Cera Burr..."
"I'm not distracted..."
"Mebe you're just overthinkin' things, then? Dat shiz is dangerous!" She put her hands to her head, then made an 'explosion' motion. "It'll make your head explode. Boom! When ya overthink things, or have too many ideas swirlin' round in your head, it really messes with ya. You end up forgettin' who you actually are, and just put up a front, ya know?"
Both hands on the wheel, I tightened my grip and continued staring ahead. I hated when Jen made a valid point. It was hard to let things go when there was so much in your head, that everything was just far too compacted. Every idea, every process, packed like sardines in your brain. It was pretty hard for a single one to escape. And who knew if it was the right one? Perhaps that was the reason behind Carson's... illogical attitude and stance? Maybe the poor child simply had no idea who he was... or maybe he did know, and just really fucking sucked at it.
"How can you suck at being who you are, though?" I questioned aloud, and Ryette retorted...
"Well you're real good at bein' who ya are..." She pointed out with a smug little grin, as I turned a corner on the street. "Like... you put da fun in funeral!"
"The laughter in manslaughter?"
"Da hot in psychotic!"
I smirked and shook my head. "That has nothing to do with-"
"Did it hurt?"
Blinking in confusion at Jen's question, I answered slowly, "Did what-"
"When ya broke through earth's crust ascending from heck!"
"...will you shut up for five seconds? I can't even think around you..."
"Ya mean overthink?"
"No, I mean concentrate on an actual match I have..." I stopped at a redlight and leaned forward on the wheel, squinting as I stared ahead. "Brett Carson as a starting opponent..."
"Da make believe naughty boi?"
"Something like that." I glanced back at Jen. "I'm all for decimating my opponents with words, but what else is there to say about him? He's literally just like everyone else with the same mindset... I feel as though he mulled over what persona he wanted to take for his career in wrestling and just 'went with it'."
"So you're sayin' he ain't actually the amazing SuperDouche? Defender of all things Brett Carson? His mouth runs faster than a speedin' bullet... his ego's moar powerful than a locomotive... he thinks he's able ta leap to da top of VOW in a single bound!"
"Shut up, Jen." I slapped the side of my head once, as I heard the voices begin murmuring to themselves. But Ryette continued loudly. She rambled on and on, and I zoned her out for what I thought was only a second, when suddenly...
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKK!
I felt the car jerk hard to the right, and I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them. The car sat at the side of the road, as the citizens of Minnesota cursed at me and flipped me off while passing. Turning my head to look at a startled Jen, who held onto the wheel of the car still, I opened my mouth to say something... but Ryette immediately interrupted...
"Told ya so! I knew ya weren't all there!"
"Am I ever?"
"But this time it coulda keeled us!"
"Did we die?"
"...noo... but-"
"Then who cares?" With a smirk, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car to see about the damage. Jen followed suit, scurrying over to me and jabbing a finger into my chest. Her usually cheery look was replaced with an icy, serious one...
"I do. This is a new place. A new territory. And a new mission. You remember that, Cera..."
"If this place is filled with people like my opponent of this week...? I'm not too concerned. He may have won things in other places. He may be strong and athletic. But he hasn't been in the ring with me yet... we'll see how he fairs then." With that, I continued inspecting the car, as Jen narrowed her eyes and turned to head back to her seat. The corners of my lips twitched upward, as I couldn't help but feel a small buzz of excitement within me. It'd been a while... perhaps this would be a new beginning for the Baddest Bitch. As long as I kept a steady mind, this time around...
After all, everyone makes the mistake of overthinking things. But some of us... well, we tend to go a simpler route when it comes to who we are and what we desire. Coming up with these extravagantly big, bright ideas... constant overanalyzing of something rather straight forward...? Honestly, if you do too much of any of that... it could hurt you, in the long run. Hell... it could even kill you. So, lesson learned, kids...
Mind your thoughts (and don't overthink that).
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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~