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~~Egyptian Snow Pharaoh~~ · (10-09-2013)

Getting a little more R&R

Continued precisely where PART 1 left off......

With my hands around his throat, I slowly tell this man... "All of your questions will be answered if you can convince me to spare your miserable life." You can immediately see the wheels turning in his panicked little mind as his eyes begin to dart around, searching for invisible hope to cling to.

"Please... I'm only here to interview you for the match on Wednesday," says this sweaty, hideous Caucasian man. "I was given a tip that I might find you here and I–"

"I don't think so! There are no 'tips' to be given; even I don't know my whereabouts much of the time I am functional."

The man's answer here is so instant that it couldn't have possibly been faked; "But I'm telling you that's just what I do. I often find myself surprising people who thought they couldn't be located, but that's because it's my job. I may be guilty of being a tad on the annoying side at times, but I'm just here to help further your message. Through me, you'll be able to–"

"Silence! What you are describing to me sounds like what I've been told Steve Sayors is capable of, and I already ki–"

"Yes! Exactly! It's all just a part of being Steve Sayors. Some days I wake up wondering if it's a curse or a blessing, but at the end of the day I'm just doing my job. Here... I can even show you my ID if you don't believe it's me. I know we haven't met before, so..." As he pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket and shows me his ID, I can't help but wonder why there are two Steve Sayors.

"So, there's a black Steve Sayors and a white one?" My question seems to stump him. It's like he walked into a glass door the way his eyes popped and his head jerked back in shock.

"Whaaaa?"

"That's right; the piece of trash you saw me standing over in that train car was also named Steve Sayors. I had naturally assumed there was only one Steve Sayors, and since he had intruded on me when I believed I was hidden from the likes of the extreme world, I had to take his life as payment for my troubles."

Steve starts to perspire and swallows hard, looking back and forth and finally saying to me in a much more somber tone, "So you thought... You actually thought the man in there was me... and the only reason you murdered him was because he found where you were hiding over night?"

"That's correct, Sayors." I let my hand fall down onto his shoulder, applying enough pressure to make him uncomfortable. I'm having a hard time not literally crushing this infidel in my bare hands. "In fact, the same applies to you now as well. The only difference is that you aren't the one responsible for startling me while I was visiting the realms beyond; otherwise known to you inferior thinkers as dreaming."

Sayors thinks for a moment and comes up with a response that reminds me of what a child might formulate.

"I see... well... since I am not the one who woke you up, and since your weapon is still stuck in that guy's mouth... (loosening his collar and swallowing hard) ...do you think you might be able to spare me? Perhaps I could even ask you a few ques–" Thwack! The backside of my hand sends him falling back into the train car, losing his balance, and falling into the stones that line the rails. He cuts himself on the elbow and apparently has hurt his knee; clutching at it like a baby as he sits up but doesn't stand.

All that from a simple backhand? Can this be? Is this what the men of the XWF are made of? When I backhand Sebastian Duke and Cam Lang, are their bones going to crumble into dust before my very eyes? I actually think Steve's fighting back tears right now! My hand begins to travel down toward his neck to yank him back up, but then I stop... Steve stares at my open hand just inches from him and remains frozen, most likely praying to the same False Deity that a con artist such as Eli James would have us all believe in. Steve's mind seems to be exactly the kind a man like Eli would target, so it's believable that Steve would follow the same 'spirit of the clouds' just like so many others choose to do with no real reason other than they need something greater than themselves to believe in. How unfortunate that those types don't realize that any living thing or inanimate object is greater than themselves if they have to cling to false beliefs instead of real Gods!

"Please... for the love of god... I..." The force of my foot being driven directly into the center of Steve's face is what stopped him from finishing that sentence.

"The love of GOD? GOD?"

I close my eyes.

I crack my neck and take a deep breath. Don't kill him. Don't kill him. Don't kill him.

I grab Steve by the shirt and yank him to his feet. It's clear that even though he's a man—and I use that term loosely—he is no match to me in strength or any other category for that matter. Not surprising... I'm not exactly built as flimsily as the other females of the extreme and I could most likely toss around half of the men with ease as well. "Listen to me very closely, Steve..." Those words sink in slowly as he tries to calm himself down and regulate his breathing. He wipes some moisture from his left cheek and, after several seconds, is finally able to look me in the eye without whimpering or flinching. Like a good dog, he listens...

"Egyptian Snow Pharaoh is my name. If I'd wanted you dead, you'd already be so. I've decided that you might serve a greater purpose than the Steve Sayors who I killed in that train car."

Steve seems hesitant at first, but finally says what he's thinking — "That black guy in there wasn't a Steve Sayors. He probably found my name tag after it had blown away in the wind. I was literally searching this train yard for hours and hours. From the looks of him, I'd guess he was just wearing a name tag he found on the ground and probably trying to rape a woman he found in the train car he was going to sleep in. I doubt he even had any idea about the XWF or who I really am."

I shove Steve back; he hits hit head on the train car behind him... yet again. This time he holds the back of his head and mouths a silent "ouch" while he winces. With a scoff, I look at Sayors like he's an offensive piece of rubbish; "I've already had someone try and defile my body in the last 72 hours. Do you mean to tell me this world of today is so filled with scum that a woman sleeping in a train car in the middle of the night might be raped by a black man wearing a Steve Sayors name tag?"

Steve blinks a few times, still holding the back of his head but also processing the quandary I've presented him. "Well again, I think the name tag thing was just a random occurrence, but yeah I could see you getting raped in this train yard. Heck... I could see myself getting raped in this train yard."

... Oh, can he? A new thought enters my mind. I check the time and look around again, making sure nobody else is around.

"Come this way, Steve."

I place my hand on his back to firmly guide him toward the entrance of the train car, almost causing him to trip in my haste.

I may have once been the supreme ruler of a place far superior to this world, but even I have human needs; human desires...

I pull the door to the car shut once we're both inside.

I lock it.

I smile.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode "Double R" pt. 2 of 2 =/\= Desires, Desires, Desires — rp4
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