Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Cain · **02-20-2015, 07:48 PM**

Learning experiences. We all have them. You touch a hot burner as a child, and your eyes tear up. You scream. You learn that the red stove eye is dangerous for a child to touch. You're in grade school and you're the class clown. You're always clowning around as class clowns do. You get your report card to see that you've failed. Your friend offers you a jalapeño pepper. You eat it. Your mouth burns like hell, but that's not the worst part. The worst part is when you try and show off and end up eating a jar of peppers. Later you're sitting on the toilet in tears and your asshole is on fire. You learn not to be a bad ass because you'll end up with a burnt asshole.

Learning experiences. We all have them.

Cain had two thousands years of learning experiences under his belt. He had originally just been a murderer who's first victim was his own brother. He learned that there was consequence behind his act. Later on, he learned not to trust anyone when he was betrayed by Judas, the very same one who betrayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver. Later he learned that in war, there is no room for mercy. The Morbid Angel match taught him that. He learned never to underestimate an opponent. The ladies of XWF taught him that.

Even Cain has had learning experiences. Lately he had learned how to be human once again.

We find Cain sitting on his couch, watching old footage of one Justin Sane. The first match he is studying on his laptop is about middle of last year. Justin Sane versus Darren Dangerous. Yancey sat next to him, taking notes as the two studied Sane's every move. Yancey Jamison looked at Cain.

"Love him or hate him Cain, that guys a bad mother fucker."

Cain nodded his head as he watched Sane take a bodyslam onto thumbtacks. He noted the look on Sane's face.

"True." He said as he pointed at the screen. "Do you see that look on Sane's face, Jamison?"

He had taken to calling Yancey by his last name, the two of them being as close as brothers.

"Yessir. Looks like he's in agony!"

"Indeed, Jamison. Two things are true here. One of those things is that Sane is a tough son of a bitch. He's won more than he's lost, that much is for sure. But tough sob or not, that look just tells me that Mister Sane is a man and men feel pain. The agony I see there lets me know that I can inflict much more pain on him than Dangerous."

"Oh? How do you know that? Darren Dangerous looks exactly as his name implies. Dangerous."

Cain nodded and sipped on a nearby beer, rewinding and pausing at the moment Sane screams in pain.

"He is. However, he is not the Messiah of Pain. Now watch when Sane gets suplexed. Do you see the way he holds his back right there? Looks like muscle spasms to me. That, my friend, is what we call a bullseye." he suddenly pulled out his Galaxy S5 and tossed it to Jamison who almost drops it. "Google his wikipage for me. Read me his physical statistics."

"Yessir." he googled the man's stats and began to read them for Cain. "Six foot four? Two hundred sixty five pounds? He's no small guy, that's for sure. Seems to be a technician as well as a brawler-"

"-right. Keep going."

"He's very confident from the looks of it. Lots of tweets bragging prove that. Oh. He said in an interview with a magazine that he likes high flying and kendo sticks."

"High flying? Hrmf. Not too many big men like that. Not even me, I barely ever bring out my diving elbow. More harm than good, no?"

"True, but by the same token, the saying does say fight fire with fire. Perhaps adding a few high flying moves to your repertoire wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Cain arched a brow. His repertoire was actually quite full, seeing as how he was schooled in many different fighting styles. Trust me, this is a little known fact about the last Edenian. He thought about it then nodded.

"Right, right. So what about a four fifty splash?"

Jamison blinked.

"Ummm...you're damned near seven feet tall. Somehow I don't think that will work."

"True...."

"Now I could see you crushing him with a moonsault. That's believable. I mean, Vader did it, and he was damned near four hundred pounds."

"Well yeah, but it can't look stupid like when that Ryback guy does that running splash."

"Zoey Ryback?"

"Ryback. Not Zoey. Ryback has a penis, Zoey Ryback has a vagina."

"How do you know?"

"I don't."

"Exactly."

"Moving on. It says here that one of the finishers Sane loves to use is a superkick."

"Yes, and he's actually won a few matches with it. I'd watch out for it if I were you, Cain. Be careful about using your clothesline from hell, dude, he'll probably be looking for it. Instead, I'd go for double leg tackles. Stay low, you know? Man's got long legs and isn't too much shorter than you so it should be a plausible modification."

Cain rewound the tape of yet another match, where the unfortunate victim of the Superkick tried for a clothesline and nearly got decapitated. He rewound it a few more times, studiously watching the motion.

"Hrm...you're right. It seems pretty high impact after all, and I know he'll most definitely try to use it on me. He'll probably try to pull out all the stops against me, considering my momentum."

"Definitely. We can't let that momentum stall though, Cain. As we speak, Attie is at the post office picking up the hoodies Mikey had made. You know, that guy's a good agent. I've heard great things about him."

"I concur. Also, if he does do his superkick, Sane that is I will just grab his ankle. Then it's chokeslam to hell time. I know I can beat him, and as a matter of fact I plan on it. I-"

Cain nary had a chance to finish his thought before the door of the apartment opened, and in stepped Attie struggling with a huge box. Cain paused the video and stood, rushing over to grab the box from his woman, the two sharing a soft kiss. Cain grinned.

Ever since he'd rescued Attie that day, the man who once had a God complex had softened a bit. No, this softness was not toward his opponents but rather toward humans as a race. He'd learned that there was hope for him after all and that he wasn't meant to be a tool used by the devil or to go to war for him. He was a man. Deep down...a good man.

"Thanks love! Those bloody t-shirts were hurtin' me arms!"

She said, rubbing her aching biceps. They weren't only aching because of the t-shirts though. She had also been training with her beau. Cain sat the box on the floor as Jamison scurried over with his box cutter. Cain went on to explain.

"Oh, but my angel of the dark, they are not t-shirts. You see, I am a business man. Mastermind does the T-shirt thing, but this is the middle of fuckin' winter. So Mikey actually had hoodies made for me."

He opened the box and pulled out one of the hoodies. He first showed them the front of it.

Then he turned the hoodie around and showed the back.

Jamison and Attie both nodded their approval. This had been Cain's learning experience indeed. He learned that not every ally had to be a demonic denizen of hell. He learned the human pussy was awesome. Just saying. Attie smirked and motioned Cain over, whispering something in his ear. Cain grinned and looked at Jamison, pulling out his wallet. He handed Jamison a single c-note.

"Here kid. Go get yourself a hooker or something, Attie and I have to practice some wrestling moves."

"That's a metaphor for fucking, isn't it?"

"I ain't saying nothing."

Cain and Attie headed off to the bedroom. Because yes, it was a metaphor for fucking. What can we say, folks? All work and no play makes Cain a dull boy.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode He Studies His Opponent Like A True Professional
Author	Message