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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » March Madness 2020 RP Board
Paradiso: Sickness
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Corey Smith Offline
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Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty but isn't lame either; many likable qualities)


#1
03-17-2020, 03:54 PM

RECAP

Recently, The Engineer has been in a bit of hot water. Last month, Corey Smith's mother, or some lobotomized facsimile thereof, was sent from the future by an unknown party to attack The Engineer. She set off an EMP that released Corey Smith's consciousness from the mental prison The Engineer had been holding him in. Since then, Corey's essence has been a major source of distraction for the champion, a situation that could be even more dire as March Madness draws ever closer and The Engineer's back up body, his lover Malcolm, stands not yet at the ready for the transition....


Right after Savage....

The Engineer is flanked by two of his white robed cultists as they accompany him into the black stretch limo. The young man wastes no time casting the door open and dropping down into one of the fine leather seats. Coming face to face with Madison Dyson and Shane , he says nothing and allows his eyes to drop to the floor.

Madison looks at Shane, shifting her weight in her seat awkwardly and causing the martini in her class to roil a bit. Shane, manspreading in his seat across from the champion, leans forward a bit. His features are a bit pinched, and he struggles to affect an air of plaintive sincerity. Hey buuuuuddy, you uhhhhh....you doin' okay?

Madison shakes her head in an agitated manner, spilling some of the martini on the floor but paying it no mind. She drains the glass almost inhumanly fast and slams it down on the console beside her. Nope! We're not sugar coating this. She stabs a finger at The Engineer. What the fuck just happened out there?! Ned made you look like shit!

The limo lurches into motion as Shane cuts in. Relax Madison! Then, to The Engineer. Was it Corey?! Huh? Did Corey do that?! I swear to GOD I will flush that turd SO HARD!

The champion says nothing. Instead, he turns about in his seat and starts punching the nearest window. Madison recoils and bites out angrily. Oh, that's mature! Would you stop you're gonna break the window!

It's Tesla glass, that shit's bulletproof.... Suddenly, The Engineer's hand shatters the glass, sending shards flying all over the interstate. Shane scowls. ...FUCK!

He pulls his hand back in, revealing a deep gash extending back from his thumb to his forearm. Clamping his good hand over the wound, he still remains quiet. Madison sighs and starts scrounging around in her purse, finally revealing a packet of tissues. She tosses it at him. That's all I got. Its gonna need stitches. So are you done tantrumming yet or....? But Madison doesn't even get to finish her thought before she senses a presence occupying the seat next to her. Her heart meets her ribcage and she gives a shout of surprise. GAH!

Aiwass is sitting next to her, but it occurs to everyone in the car that no one saw him appear. It was as if he had always been sitting there, his presence not yet acknowledged on a conscious level until he willed it so. Shane responds nonchalantly. Hey what's up your worshipfulness? Kick ass job you're doing on the Coronavirus project!

Aiwass, looking a bit preoccupied, responds to Shane but stares right at The Engineer. Thank you, Shane. He licks his lips. I need to borrow him.

And with that, both he and The Engineer are gone, folded up into the space between realities. Madison and Shane simply look at the empty spots where they were just sitting before Shane finally breaks the silence. Wanna go to an old folks home and start coughing everywhere?

Madison coughs in response, and you just know this bitch doesn't even bother to cover it up.

Is that a “yes”?

She looks quizzical, and clearly wasn't paying attention. What are you talking about?

Shane moves a couple seats further down from Madison.

Elsewhere


[Image: Osram-St-Peters.jpg]

The silence inside St. Peter's Basilica is oppressive, an ironic assault on the senses. That such a beautiful place would be devoid of life and vitality seemed almost blasphemous. Nonetheless, it was a reality in a nation gripped by twin pandemics of disease and terror. Beauty rendered hollow and inert.

The Engineer came to, sitting in a pew directly in front of the ornate sacrament at the fore of the basilica. He knew immediately than an even greater blasphemy than the silence was sitting directly beside him. Aiwass' power radiated, a malignant aura that was like a palpable faux air settling deep in the lungs and sinuses. Like a sickness, ironically.

I just want to say....

You don't need to apologize. Aiwass headed him off at the pass, his voice subdued but nearly thunderous in the silence. But there was something else there too, an indecipherable “other” to his cadence that gave The Engineer pause. You have been under tremendous strain. I know you're fighting Corey's presence every day. The beast breathed. Decisions are going to have to be made.

A cold pang of anxiety raced up The Engineer's spine. What do you mean?

Abandoning this form. Taking up residence in Malcolm.

The Engineer turned his gaze towards the floor, saying nothing.

You disagree?

March Madness is in less than two weeks. I need to have a strong showing after what happened on Savage. Abandoning Corey will look like weakness to the people and to our enemies.

Aiwass considered him, eyes narrowed. Is that decision based in sound reasoning or in ego?

The young man's lips parted to speak again, but he clamped them shut when he realized he wasn't sure. Aiwass pressed on into the vacuum of silence. I want to speak to Corey.

The Engineer's head spun on a swivel, and he was unable to resist betraying his shock. What? Why?!

Leaning back in the pew, the Pagan God drew in another breath. I'll settle things with Corey.

But me ceding control again is an extremely dangerous proposition and....

It's not.

The Engineer looked at Aiwass, stunned. What are you talking about?

For the first time, the monster turned his gaze on his subordinate. And for a moment, the glamour stuttered, the false face dipped revealing the barest glimpse of the cosmic horror that lay beneath. The Engineer gasped despite himself as the profundity of that vision overwhelmed his senses, filling even him with a sense of inescapable dread and suffocation.

[Image: ScreenHunter_117-May.-28-00.37.jpg]

Do it. Now.

Aiwass had never taken that tone with The Engineer before. Typically he spoke to him with the measured calm of one speaking to a valued ally, perhaps even an equal. But this was anything but. It was an order. Immediate, discrete, and total. The young man blinked in surprise, but rallied quickly. Closing his eyes, he whispered to himself. No, not JUST to himself.

Olly olly oxen free, you pisspot.

The Engineer went limp then, slumping against the back of the pew as Aiwass watched with interest. Then, the body reanimated. At first he looked confused, eyes struggling to focus and fingers flexing and unflexing into fists as Corey found himself abruptly reintegrated with his physical form. It didn't take him long to notice Aiwass, and with that Corey gave a cry of surprise and slid to the floor. No, no, no, no! Corey slid back on his haunches, desperately trying to put as much space between himself and Aiwass as he could. Spinning about on his knees, he sought to pick himself up and bolt, but Aiwass lifted a hand and stopped him with but a thought.

Aiwass uprooted himself from the pew and walked casually over to the boy, stopping at his feet and bending low at the waist to consider him. Corey Smith. He spoke the words like a hissed epithet.

Finding himself rooted in place, Corey had no choice but to face the beast. What do you want? He tried to restrain the dread tremor from his voice, and found himself mostly ill equipped to do so.

We need to talk, you and I.

We have nothing to talk about.

Oh, I believe we do. Aiwass stood fully erect, which he knew made himself seem even more imposing. You're causing my Engineer a great deal of grief. This situation must be rectified.

Corey's face dropped down into an expression of disbelief, and he found some of his fear giving way to anger. You killed my mother, and you wanna talk about rectification....

I do.

Corey's bottom lip trembled as he wondered how much to ante as he challenged the beast. Why don't you just transfer The Engineer to Malcolm? That's what you guys keep him around for, right? A back up?

It was Aiwass' turn to look reluctant. That's not what we're discussing.

No, it's not. Because Malcolm isn't ready yet, is he? Corey, emboldened, pressed this advantage. He doesn't have the physical training I do. The stamina. The muscle memory. And you know if The Engineer transferred into his body so soon before March Madness he'd lose to Ned and make your whole movement look like shit. Corey etched a smile onto his face. How close am I?

Very. Aiwass admitted.

Yeah....yeah, I am. And you can't hurt me without hurting The Engineer can you? He nodded, feeling his momentum rising. But you want me to play ball with you when you KILLED MY FUCKING MOTHER RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! His voice dropped down into a pit of white hot anger. A speck of spit landed on Aiwass' pant leg. You're getting absolutely fucking NOTHING from me.

Aiwass canted his head, which was somehow a very reptillian looking gesture coming from him. You think I have nothing left to take from you? The boy's face fluttered in response, a momentary betrayal. You think I can't hurt you anymore?

With an inhuman quickness Aiwass reached down and pressed his palm into Corey's face. Corey screamed as he felt a sensation akin to drowning washing over him. Drowning in blackness, feeling like thick inky nothingness was pouring in through his eyes, mouth, ears, through his very pores and filling him up from within. Filling and filling and filling to the point that it was pushing his soul out. Corey felt like he was probably screaming, but he couldn't hear himself.

And then, he was elsewhere. The first thing that hit him was the bitter cold. Collapsing onto his side, he could sense that he once again had freedom of movement, but the shock of the frigid air nearly took his breath away. Aiwass stood before him again, seemingly unaffected by the conditions.

W-where....? He stammered through chattering teeth. Forcing himself to a seated position, his breath explodes past his lips in a ghostly plume.

Aiwass doesn't reply, but he does walk up to a wall with a number of cylinder like pods built into it.

[Image: 340?cb=20150309180050]

Pressing his knuckles into a button built into a console on the pod, the misty glass slides away revealing a body held within. Corey gasps and lets out a low moan when he sees who it is: his mother. Or, that broken parody of his mother that hailed from a hellish future. She hung suspended in the chamber, broken neck torqued at an unnatural angle, the bruising about the wound made even deeper and more malignant looking by the deep cold such that it was almost black. Aiwass reached into the chamber and toggled with something, exactly what Corey could not discern. But when he was finished, his mother's body dropped out of the chamber, hitting the floor with an unceremoniously dull thud. Corey flinched at the grotesque sight and turned his head away.

You think I can't hurt you. Aiwass muttered disdainfully. Reaching low, he grabbed a helping of the corpse's brittle hair and dragged it towards Corey.

No...no....Corey crab walked backwards to try and escape, but the chill in the floor sent a dull ache up through the palms of his hands. Aiwass dumped the body right in front of him, and Corey found himself strangely entranced by the impossible horror of what he was seeing. His mother, older than he ever remembered. The lines in her face filled in with frost. Her eyes glazed and cloudy and forever unseeing.

Aiwass pointed a finger at that dead face. You think I can't hurt you? He paused. We already mined this thing for all the intel it could provide us. Still don't know who sent this broken toy to free you. Do you know how frustrating that is Corey? Huh? Very. Very. Very. Very. Aiwass raised a leg and brought the heel of his leather shoe down on the bridge of the corpse's nose. A snap of cartilage echoed throughout the chamber, borne aloft by the dry chill air. Corey wailed. Aiwass picked his foot up again and dropped it down, over and over, the bones in her face splitting and cracking like thunder, flesh parting like broken porcelain until the deep red of the tissue underneath was revealed. Corey screamed and covered his face, but he could still HEAR it. The sounds of the monster's shoe burying itself in a human skull. The sucking sound as the air within her skull was released and as the brain matter inside was turned into a fine paste by the force of the blows. Corey made the mistake of accidentally opening an eye through the partition in his fingers and saw his mother's broken face open like some ghastly flower in bloom, her jaw distended and hanging at a jaunty angle and her hair now matted to the floor with blood.

Corey keeled over and started wretching on the floor, but Aiwass snapped him up by his hair and forced him to look. Squeezing his eyes shut, the boy begged off. Stop! Please! But he could feel Aiwass hands about his face, cupping his cheeks. And then, that foul oily breath assaulting the flesh of his face.

Look at me.

Corey bucked.

Look at me.

N-No.....

LOOK AT ME! Aiwass squeezed Corey's face, forcing his fingers into his mouth and hooking Corey's jaw, grabbing it and wrenching Corey's head around. Corey gagged at the taste of those foul fingers and nearly vomited again as Aiwass' finger tips pressed deep down into the sensitive flesh beneath his tongue. The boy reluctantly opened his eyes and was met with two more eyes that were suddenly black as fathomless infernal pits. You think this stops with you if you keep fucking me, Corey? Huh? Because for as many limitless hells I can drag you through, just imagine what I can do to others in YOUR name, as punishment for YOUR recalcitrance! This coronavirus you're hearing about all over the news? It's MINE, Corey. My child! I created it! And right now it's just a mere trifle of suffering, more fear and nervous expectation than anything else. And that's fine, that's all I wanted it to be. That slow suffering building to a crescendo of worldwide panic.

But, with the smallest of pushes, it can be so much more.
Aiwass leans in even closer, bringing those impossibly white sharpened teeth against his ear. I can have children, little babies, shitting their guts out. I can turn it it to some real medieval shit, Corey, and sign your name to it. Would you like that? Because I'll do that to bring you to heel. Do you honestly question that I won't? He removes his fingers from Corey's mouth and pulls back again to face him directly. This is the part where you answer.

No...n-no....I don't question it.

Good. Smart. Aiwass smiles and it's repugnant. Now put an official seal on it. Repeat after me, Corey. “I will behave myself and do as Aiwass commands.”

Corey sputters, and spent tears glisten on his face as they freeze in place. I....I....

I don't have all goddamn day, Corey!

I will behave m-myself....he shudders....and do as Aiwass commands.

Well...Aiwass chuckles and pats Corey playfully on the cheek....that's all I wanted to hear. It does sound like we have reached an agreement. Wasn't so hard, was it?

Aiwass hand reaches around to the back of Corey's neck and gives it a squeeze, prompting him to reply. No....

Good. A thin black tear drops down from Aiwass' left eye. Now kiss mommy goodnight.

...what?

Gripping a firm hold on Corey's head with both hands he forces the boy's face down into the gaping ulcerous maw of his mother's broken head. Corey screams...and screams...and screams....

Later, at a secret DRW facility


The form's aura has shifted, and it's clear that The Engineer is back in full control. He is standing in some sort of command center, but the entire room is plunged into pitch save for a large screen behind him.

[Image: coronavirus-2284938.jpg?r=1580315089630]

Anyone with a passing familiarity with our breathless 24/7 news coverage will recognize what's on the screen as a map of the spread of Covid-19. The Engineer stands hunched over it, leaning his face towards the screen such that the blood red indicators of viral contagion are reflected in his eyes, causing a disquieting crimson pallor to come over them. His expression is impassive, and he starts to speak without looking up from the map on the screen.

Noun. A small infectious agent that replicates only inside the living cells of an organism.

He smirks.

Virus.

Then, pushing away from the monitor, he stands upright. The glow from the screen alights half his face, leaving the other half in shadow.

I came to the XWF touting myself as a living virus, a memetic disease propagating itself in the hearts and minds of a desperate and depressed people. He gestures to the screen. Behold! My kin. A mirthless chuckle bleeds through. I'm taking immense enjoyment in the symbolism here. And maybe a touch of jealousy as well. It seems like as of late Covid-19 has been doing its job better than me.

Hello, Ned.

The words are spoken icily. The Engineer looks back at the screen for a moment before training his attention forward again.

I'm going to address the elephant in the room first. You humiliated me at Savage. And for as much as I would like to be able to protect my own ego and say that it was Corey Smith who distracted me, allowing you to gain the advantage, it...was....not. The Engineer paces out the last three words with a mechanical precision. The fault was mine. It had nothing to do with Corey. I took you lightly, as most are apt to do. And you saw an opening and took it. Like a virus, I might add! Well met.

But here's the pisser: you only get one. Because I'm like a virus too. I adapt to changing conditions and overcome barriers to ensure my propagation. And I'm already adapting to the notion that perhaps I need to change my view of you. Perhaps I need to reconsider your threat profile.
He sighs. It's hard though. It's damn hard, Ned! Because outside of the flash in the pan bit of offense you mustered against me at Savage, absolutely nothing about you screams “threat”.

Take that briefcase for instance. You've held that thing for damn near a year. And in that time, what else have you accomplished? In what ways have you capitalized on that momentum?
He leans in to hiss at the camera. You haven't.

You have FLOUNDERED, Ned. Drowning and directionless. Oh sure there was a stint as Apex's errand boy....which went nowhere. And now you're besties with Big D so you can both go nowhere TOGETHER. Isn't that nice? Although, is that fair to Big D? He at least has a couple transitional title reigns under his belt. You don't even have that. Which, when you stop and think about it, is remarkably sad.

There was something you said at Savage, Ned, that was pretty telling. You said that you thought people found you boring because you do the right thing. But that's not why people find you boring. This may seem surprising coming from me, but people can do the right thing and not be boring. In fact, that's the very thing I've been looking for since I set foot through those doors. A dramatic foil, someone to be the light to my dark. A fight that I can REALLY sink my teeth into. All I have wanted was to find that epic hero paradigm to prove my mettle against. I had hoped that person was Robbie Bourbon, but it wasn't. He had too many skeletons in his closet, and ultimately he was just too weak to get the job done. A paper “hero” in every sense of the word.

But, heroes CAN be interesting. The XWF is replete with fascinating legends who erred on the side of benevolence. A few of them are still around. One of them I intend to make into my next objet de curiosite.
The champion smiles knowingly.

But we're talking about YOU, Ned, and what makes YOU so dull. And it is this: you don't know what greatness is. You don't have the fire, Ned! The gumption! That deep down in the guts pining for excellence that a true champion has. And when I started to think about how that squared with you taking the fight to me on Savage, it started to fall into place. That's your modus operandi, isn't it? Just when it starts to look like you've got that fire...The Engineer withdraws a lit match seemingly from out of nowhere....poof, it's gone just as fast as it appeared. He pinches the small flame between his thumb and his forefinger, extinguishing it.

[Image: giphy.gif]

You're the proverbial dog chasing a bus, Ned. Just when you start to get close enough to grasp that brass ring, you back off, or you fuck up. If you ask me, I think you're actively afraid of success. And I think that's why you never bothered to cash in that briefcase until the 11th hour too. And when you did cash it in, you cashed it in in a fashion that was the LEAST advantageous to you. So, if you're being true to form...and I think you are....you are going to follow that spectacle on Savage with absolutely fuck all.

I think you're going to be the same old cuck everyone expects you to be. You're going to under perform because success is scary. Because success requires effort and raising the bar. Because becoming successful requires you to CHANGE in a fundamental way that terrifies you. It requires you to finally grow and evolve past that pathetic hardscrabble indy darling that nobody expects much out of and to put yourself in a position where you are really primed to disappoint the people you care about.

In short, no, no I don't have much to worry about. Because your fire? It's fleeting. And it's doused by the flop sweat you soil yourself with every time you get even a taste of success.

Our contest at March Madness IS a foregone conclusion. And at least with Robbie Bourbon it stood a chance at being an entertaining foregone conclusion. But now? It's just going to amount to me showing you up for the cowardly, perennial mid carder everyone knows you to be.

You know I'm right.

The Engineer turns back towards the screen, and once again the bleeding pock marks on it wash over him, making it seem as though all that death and suffering is playing out deep in his eyes, becoming a part of him through and through. The champion smiles wickedly and then taps the screen once, turning it off and sending the whole room straight into the black.

[Image: CoreySig6A.png?width=270&height=406]
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