Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Marf · (03-27-2021)

The waves of the lake fade to ripples as a light breeze blows Marf’s 70s style haircut. It’s borderline mullet but he rocks it pretty well. His blazing blue eyes are staring out onto the lake at the now capsized boat. The girl who took the boat out there had been dragged into the lake by a hulking beast of a man wearing a mask. A hockey goalie mask to be specific. Marf had no idea who he was nor any intention of sticking around to find out. He turns and heads away from the shoreline, looking at the cabins now trying to figure out what to do.

Marf’s feet crunch with each step as he crushes the many fallen leaves. His muscular legs ripple with each powerful stride he makes in the far too tight red gym shorts. The crunching turns to softer thuds with each step as he walks along the grass now searching for anyone else. But nobody is there but Marf, or so he thinks. The stillness haunting the air around him has Marf on alert still. The clouds in the sky have joined forces to block out the sun and a gentle breeze is becoming more aggressive. Marf looks around as the dead leaves blow past his powerful frame.

He heads for a cabin a few dozen yards away before hearing a light ripple of something breaking the water. Marf turns and spots the head of the man in the hockey mask surfacing in the lake as he begins walking up to the shore. As his body comes into view a large metal spear can be seen being held tightly in his left hand. He raises it and hurls the spear with force, sending it hurtling towards Marf. He dives out of the way as it plunges into the wall of the cabin. Marf runs past and goes for one of the cabins further away while the masked man marches up the shore onto land.

Marf enters a cabin but keeps the lights off while trying to stay quiet. He shuffles over to the closet and places his hand on the knob to open it before going deadly still. Loud footsteps can be heard coming to the main door of the cabin. They abruptly stop in front of the door as Marf does his best to breath quietly. Suddenly the front door is torn away and the massive man is standing in the frame. Marf closes his eyes and sighs before opening the closet and diving in. He clambers forward and falls onto a metal walkway.

Marf looks up and realizes he’s back in the strange boiler room labyrinth. He runs down the corridor and turns into a dead end. There’s nothing but a large metal wall and broken pipes. From behind him there is a terrible screeching sound and Marf spins around. Blocking the path out is a tall man in a gross sweater and dirty brown fedora. He raises his left hand, displaying some kind of glove with knives, and he waves at Marf. Looking around in shock Marf can’t shake the feeling of giving in to this monster. But he fights through it and reaches down instead, picking up one of the pipes.

Marf: This is not my dream...who are you? Why do you keep fucking with me!?

Knife Glove Man: You don’t get to ask questions, bitch!

Marf rolls his eyes as the man bursts out laughing. Marf surprises him by suddenly charging and jousting the pipe hard into the man’s gut. It pierces into him with a sickening sploosh but Marf keeps pressing forward. He drives him back and sends him falling over a metal railing and down to the steamy red nothingness underneath. Marf looks over the railing and then at his own hands in disbelief. He slowly turns and notices a door to the right, a blue glow coming from behind it. Marf approaches it cautiously before opening it up and stepping inside. The door slams behind him and leaves Marf in a small little office room.

There’s a desk in front of him with an angry looking woman seated across from him. She’s thin and has long black hair. Her face is also thin but beautiful, her eyes dark but with a hint of blue. She glares up at Marf in what appears to be annoyance. She offers a hand to gesture for him to take a seat but he shakes his head slowly in refusal. He points the pipe at her menacingly but she flicks her hand and the pipe turns into a garden snake. Marf tosses it aside in disgust while never taking his eyes off the woman.

Angry Woman: This is your only warning...go back to being her stupid little lapdog. Stop thinking, stop helping, stop bonding, stop getting stronger and stop making her stronger. Lycana is ours, not yours. Next time I see you, you die. That is a promise.

Marf growls and takes a half step forward despite his body not wanting to respond. The woman jumps out of her cushioned office chair and on top of the desk. She leans forward and places a hand onto Marf’s forehead. She looks into his eyes and he watches as hers begin to glow an impossibly bright blue until he has to close his. She pushes his head back and Marf falls to the floor. He falls right through and drifts for a moment before crashing down onto the shore by the lake again. Marf scrambles while looking around for the woman but she’s long gone.

He gets to his feet while mumbling angrily to himself. Marf stops as he hears the crunch of dry leaves under a foot step. He turns around to see the giant man in the hockey mask towering over him. The man grabs him with both powerful hands by the throat. Marf punches at his massive arms to no avail so he reaches up out of desperation and rips the mask off. As the mask falls we see the face of Marf staring back. He strangles the now smaller, slimmer body in his hands. Her blue hair fallen forward over his hands. Marf screams in horror at the realization of what’s happening before jolting awake. He looks over at Lycana on the floor tangled in sheets and a dead girl in the bed with him...

Somewhere after pancakes but before hide and seek...

We open back up to that angry ole face of Marf. He is likely in Lycana’s bathroom because it is far too clean to be a motel’s. The hairs in his beard shift as he breathes steadily. A mixture of anger and purpose in his bold blue eyes.

Marf: So here we go, the final stretch before the madness that is March. Only a matter of hours before I have to head to Las Vegas. Sin City, as it’s known, and certainly a proper place to see the battle between myself and Demos. A dangerous place for two very dangerous men. Or perhaps I should say one dangerous man in myself and one two dimensional sack of shit in Charlie. Following along all the others that have gone against the Left Hand and then claiming he’s been battling us the whole time.

I should be embarrassed? I am embarrassed! Just watching you carry on this sad sack of a career is beyond sad. You clinch so tightly to that television title as it is your only shining piece of relevance around here. What’s going to happen when I take it from you? Will we see some profound third face of Nickles? Or will you upgrade from sock puppets to finger paintings? I’m sure whatever half assed thing you come up with will continue to carry on this sad sack train as it travels along towards a nonexistent station of sanity.

All the nonsense that comes out of your disgusting mouth leads me to believe you might be more insane than even me. But not in a cool or interesting way sadly, more in a shit your pants weekly kind of way. You think what happened to Jim was just some wasted attempt to intimidate you? That was just a small piece of revenge with a large piece of enjoyment. Regardless of your feelings for Jim, I took great pleasure in destroying him. Did my nasty attack help me gain the outcome I wanted? Hmm, let’s see, Jim embedded in the hood of Hummer, uhh yeah I’d say so!

It’s going to be a much longer vacation for poor Jim than what was expected I’m afraid. But even though he’s been taken from you I’m sure you’ll find another fool to leech off. There’s always someone stupid enough to team up with a mouthy oaf like you, Charlie. Whether you talk them into it or they just feel that damn sorry for you. You don’t care because you don’t know the real bond of a partner. It’s why there was no point to attacking Jim to get to you. So I just did it for fun instead and maybe got a tad carried away.

He continues staring straight ahead with unwavering focus. Not a single blink, he’d be a champion in a staring contest for sure.

Marf: You know I could’ve sworn it wasn’t that long ago you were giving me shit for being just a follower to Baphomet. Just like everyone else likes to say, you stumbled through that same old tripe as well and yet here you are telling me to follow you? First of all, you’re not worthy of a stray dog’s shit, there isn’t a soul in the universe that would follow you. Secondly, my will is my own and it will never be submitted to anybody. Especially the likes of you, I’d never quit or submit to you.

I mean how delusional are you exactly? Making it an I quit match? Exactly how many times have you pinned me? Or forced me to submit? Can you count that out for me? You keep saying you have beaten me all these times yet not once have you accomplished such a feat. You dumb fuck, you actually think you’re going to get me to quit? If anything I’ll be begging you to bring the pain. There’s absolutely nothing you will be able to do that will make me quit. You think you’ve been holding the Left Hand in check? Keeping the Dissentients down? And how exactly has that been working out for you, Charlie?

Better yet, why don’t we ask Tula how held down we are? Oh right, after we destroyed her she hung up her boots. Oops. Or Ash Quinn, we can ask her how the Left Hand has left her be since she bailed. Except that’s not true at all, she’s forever looking over her shoulder until we give her permission to quit. The thing in common with them? They’re not women Charlie, they’re betrayers. Jim was a betrayer in a different sense. Same outcome though, shelfed. And where were you again for that? Oh right, jerking off into socks.

Oh Demos, whether you’re looking to spread guidance or not, both you and Charlie are still the same, obsessed with wins and losses in the ring. Always going back to who or where I lost a match. But none of that holds any bearing to our upcoming match. You foolishly shed the rules to our match, the purest form of a fight is now before us. I don’t lose fights. I end people in fights, much like I will end your boring television title reign. With the only meaningful part of you torn away, you’ll come crashing down hard from that pedestal you’ve perched upon.

So when all that dust settles and all that bullshit happens, there we will have a television championshipless Demos, the big empty shell that was, is and always will be Charlie Nickles. I will walk away with your title and I will take control of Savage. Saturday nights will at least perk up a bit, as much as I don’t want to go to that lower tier show. Now go on and rush your way through another nonsensical promo, Charlie. At this point I am just counting down the minutes to your final destruction. Tick tock motherfucker, your time is almost up...

Oh but please, continue feeding into your own delusions that everything is centered around you friend. I know you crave the attention. Always quick to shed those tears when people aren’t talking about you. Injecting yourself into everyone’s business to make sure they remember you’re still here with a nifty new name and another gimmick change. All your latest jargon makes me wonder if you’re stealing Baphomet’s gimmick next. He might not be so keen like Alias was about you borrowing thoughts and ideas like that without asking. Don’t worry, I’ll slap you around a little extra for that too.

The punishments and brutalizations coming your way just might wake you up from this disturbing dreamland you live in where you believe people actually respect you. How could anyone respect a guy like you? Who runs around shitting himself while claiming everyone is hiding in fear. Just a heads up bud, nobody is hiding from you, at least not in fear. Maybe from the smell though. I know I’ve certainly never hid yet you claim you’re always looking for me. Keep spouting your lies, at March Madness I’ll be smack dab in the middle of that ring waiting to smear your blood from post to post. I’m not concerned with winning the match no, I’m just concerned in making sure you lose. Fucking everything.

Finally he breaks his stone stare and frozen face with his sadistic smile. The grin impossibly widens as we fade out.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Your salvation is found in a sinner’s deed...
Author	Message