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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Detour
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Abaddon Offline
Life's a game, life's a joke.


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(booed by casual fans; hurts people; often angry)
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#1
12-15-2015, 11:33 PM


You just don't get it.  

Or, maybe you do.  Maybe all of this gesturing is just your way of playing dumb with everyone else.  Make them believe that all those delusions of grandeur are genuine, while you nudge those who know better in the side and say "eh?  Got those idiots goin' right?"  Call me an optimist, but I really hope it's the second and you aren't really this stupid.  That you see me for what I am and you don't plan on getting cute come Wednesday but God knows I've been let down by people just like you in the past so I'm not holding my breath.  

Don't mistake my hopes for acceptance though.  Or respect.  I only respect the bullshitters that con me with their lies and you aren't one of them.  Not by a long shot.  Would you like to know why, Mike?  Why no one with a brain buys into your boasts and your claims?

Because they're hollow.  Every syllable, every word, every phrase.  They know if they poke your puffed out chest it'd pop like a balloon filled up with too much air.  If they thought too hard about your lies and deceits they'd unravel, unfurl, fall completely to pieces just like that.  

We could back and forth like this for as long as you want to.  I say you're weak and soft and more annoying than a yipping little Yorkie and you fire back, completely forgoing giving an original thought and spit my own words back at me.  Is this how you want to play it?

Is this how you're going to defend yourself?  

Really?

"I know you are, but what am I?"

I should really stop expecting so much from people.  They always find new and innovative ways to disappoint me.  See, when I heard that ol' Mikey boy started talking about me again I had hoped he would at least act like he had any sense.  That he'd actually make himself, you know, intimidating when he tried to intimidate me.  Guess he thought I scare easily.  

As if.

Here's the thing.  

You aren't intimidating.  You don't scare me.  Like I said, you're nothing that I haven't seen before.  You're nothing that I haven't stepped over before.  Because that's all you are to me.  Not a stepping stone, mind you.  We aren't a path to anything except for bad news right now.  We took a detour, went down the scenic route.  You're an obstacle.  A nuisance.  A rotting tree stump, a vine, something to step over and walk away from.

I would lie and say we took this path the second you opened your mouth about me without thinking, but even then, as I keep on saying, seriously I feel like a broken record at this point, I held out some hope.  Some hope that you'd realize the error of your ways and you'd seek forgiveness.  Not that I'd offer it, mind ya.  Even if I had such a thing in my heart, I wouldn't.  Got a reputation to uphold and all.

No, we took this detour very recently.  

When you had the chance to mend fences and you decided to fuck them up even more.  

We were going down the road.  Sure, it was bumpy as all hell but hey, when ain't it?  Then you grabbed the steering wheel and drove us off the road and into a tree.  Now, we're in the woods.  That was you, not me.  Don't go blaming me when your actions catch up to you.  

Remember that Thursday night, when you're lying in a hospital bed, staring up at the fluorescent lights asking yourself where it all went wrong, I want you to remember one thing.

You had a say in all this.

You had a choice.

You chose wrong.  

It's not my fault you lived up to the part, Sisyphus.  You never should've got the idea in your head that you could go one on one with me.  Sure, there's another man in the mix but let's be real here, he was never a factor in the outcome.  He's just a warm up.

This always would've come down to you and me.

Look at the bright side.  They'll tell your story forever.  Just like Sisyphus. 

Picture it:

A man faces his own mortality given flesh.  Now, he's been given chance after chance to just turn and walk away.  He could give it up.  All he has to do is admit to everyone, himself included, that wasn't as untouchable as he proclaimed.

Instead, he digs in.

"Now you listen to me," he says, huffing and puffing, face beet red.  "I am everything I goddamn say I am."

And his mortality simply looks at him, and shakes its head.

 The man chose wrong.

And he had to face the consequences.

See you Wednesday, friend.

I can't promise I'll make it quick.

***

"You don't have to do this," cried the overweight gas station clerk duct taped to an office chair as he thrashed and squirmed, trying desperately to break free of the restraints.  The neon lights that shone from the small store's sign had, at one point, felt like an oasis in the desert of darkness, the last refuge from the horrors that appeared at night.  Yet now, that same blackness had crept into the light and corrupted it.  Twisted it.  Broke it and remolded it in its own ghastly image.

His eyes darted all around, scared to land on the hooded man or his scantily clad, face painted companion for more than a second.  For a second, his eyes fell on the sheathed blade hanging from the woman's hip.  She was giggling, spinning him around and around while the man helped himself to the contents of the cash register, and the clerk's car keys.  His pleas had fallen on deaf ears.  

As he went round and round, he thought back to the string of decisions that led him down this path.  He was 34, unmarried, lived alone in a one bedroom apartment, he'd wasted the best years of his life and it only dawned on him in his last few moments.

He thought of all the opportunities he missed.  His dreams, his hopes, his aspirations.  

He thought of his family.  His friends.

He wondered if they'd even miss him.

Finally, he sighed, ready to take whatever fate the two psychopaths decided to hand down to him.

A slap brought him back to the real world.  

The hooded man knelt in front of him.  "What was that you just said?"

"You don't have to do this," the clerk repeated.

"You're right, we don't."

That was when the woman pulled the blade and cut his throat.

As he watched the blood drain from his body, the clerk felt an odd sense of peace.  In his last moments, he didn't struggle.  He didn't turn and look away from his killers.

He looked death in the eye, and smiled.

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