Post by adm on Aug 13, 2008 19:21:37 GMT -6
"The first of those, of whom intelligence Thou fain wouldst have," Then he said unto me, "The empress was of many languages. To sensual voices was so abandoned, that lustful she made licit in her law, to remove the blame to which she had been led. She is Semiramis, of whom we read that she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse; She held the land which now the Sultan rules." Those are words from Canto V of Dante’s Inferno. How they do describe my situation. The sensual and Lustful two former lovers of mine have been speaking to me from beyond the grave. As if to call me to the second circle of Hell to join them. But I wonder, often, whether this “Dwayberry” place is just the 2nd Circle of Hell, and not all circles above and below it. I really don’t want to find out, but something tells me I will soon be plunged deep into the terrors they have witnessed since the day they left me, and life, far behind.”
It’s far after dark as Fate drives down this lonely stretch of highway. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or why he’s going there. He just “felt” something calling him down this road. Fog slowly wafts over the pavement ahead, and the forest around us on all sides appears to be closing in. Ahead, in the fog, is something large. Fate slams on his breaks, in order to avoid hitting it. When he stops, he looks ahead of himself to see this “thing” before him. It is over 10 feet tall, and carries with it a giant rusty battle axe. The beast picks up his car with ease, and flips it over. Fate is trapped, unable to escape, as the beast drags the axe closer. He pulls on his seatbelt, and tries to open the door, but he’s stuck. He hears the sound of a fire brewing near his gas tank…he screams…
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” Fate jolts up off his hotel bed, awakening in a cold sweat. The dream felt so real, so…familiar. As he realizes he’s safe within his hotel room, he calms down. He takes in the room around him, just as he expects it to be at this late hour of the night. Dark, with city lights illuminating through the shut curtains. Did he wake the people nearby? Or were they still up, doing the nasty? “Why…what the hell was that?”
He slowly crawls out of his bed, and moves to the bathroom. He runs the cold water, and splashes his face as he ponders exactly what this means. He’s had this dream a couple times now, in a couple different versions. This reminds him of the story Prophet told him about his nightmares of Dwayberry some months ago. Prophet had many nightmares about Dwayberry, and confided in Fate what they truly represented, at least for him. It represented his guilt for being away from his family, and he was being punished through nightmares that they were lost in this monster-filled town in the middle of nowhere, with dense hallucinogenic Nightshade fog. Sometimes Prophet would wake up and still be able to feel himself there, in that place. Other times, he’d wake up in the middle of the streets, or an alleyway, just like he had been sleep-walking the whole time. It scared Prophet enough to get examined and get prescriptions to help ease the nightmares. Fate, however, hasn’t had such luck with his medication. Not as much luck as the thing that he used before he “cleaned up”.
“At least when I was still shooting up Heroin, the nightmares didn’t leave me waking up in a cold sweat multiple times a night. At least then, I could sleep through the ****ing things. Now, now I’m just stuck waking up time after time at all hours of the night, losing sleep over women who have been dead for a very long time. And yet, they don’t seem dead to me, they still feel like they may be out there, waiting for me. Just like the letter, the phone call…hell even the note with the dead birds pointed toward that ****ing town. But why Dwayberry? Why a place named after Nightshade? Does this have to do with my name? The name I have been using for so very long now? Or is this something different, I can’t tell.”
Fate wipes his face on one of the hanging hand towels as he slowly leaves the bathroom, preparing to go back to sleep. But somehow, he thinks there’s something with the room, something he must investigate.
“I need to check…just in case…” Fate says as he walks over to the dresser. He slowly pulls open the top drawer, and sighs when he sees it is only his clothes. “Ok…no cut up pieces of female intimates or sex organs…I’m not still dreaming, I’m back.”
“You wish you were back, don’t you, Fate?” A twisted, yet familiar voice calls from Fate’s reflection in the television which is turned off. Even in the dim light we can see the reflection clear as day, the reflection not of Fate, but Angelo Della Muerte.
“What do you mean by THAT?” Fate asks his reflection.
“You know what I mean, Fate. You’re never really back in the “real world” unless you’re back where you were last year…when I was haunting your every waking and sleeping hour. That is reality, Fate, not this. This is…”Objective” reality, the collective reality that these fools have force-fed themselves for so very many years. And now, Fate, you realize you’ve been living in this false reality, and you feel so familiarly home in the nightmares and hallucinations. Just like everyone else has had. Waking up from nightmares that feel so real, smell so real, taste so real. You’ve woken up from nightmares still smelling rotten flesh, and tasting the thick decrepit air on your tongue. You realized long ago this isn’t reality, Fate. Why do you keep trying to tell yourself this is “real”?”
“Because everything you’ve shown me is a god-damned lie! You’re a trickster, a fake, and a ****ing liar. There is nothing “real” about where you took me, Angelo. Everything that was there is all just hallucinations and you try to TELL me it is real. You wish it was real, because if it were reality, you’d be God.”
“You are right, if that were reality, I’d be God. But you know, it IS real, you feel it deep down in your soul it is reality. Don’t deny what you see, Fate…don’t deny what you KNOW!”
Angelo’s image in Fate’s reflection fades away, leaving just Fate’s normal reflection. But the words still hang in the air, like venomous bites from a viper. “Don’t deny what you KNOW!” What did he mean by that? Did he mean that everything this “real world” presents is a lie? That every last living soul on this Earth who lives in this “real world” has been lied to and lying to themselves for their whole lives. People living and dying in a false reality in order to shelter themselves from the horribly awful truth that they turned Eden into Hell. We fade to black.
[Begin Next Scene]
Fate stands on the side of a bridge, overlooking the water. It’s sunny out today, for once. This bridge is nowhere near his hotel; he’s out miles into the country from where the hotel is located. But he likes it here, it’s quiet, and nothing can bother him from what he is here to do.
“I feel a change in scenery was necessary, that stuffy hotel room wasn’t very “natural” an environment to be cutting promos from. Even thinking that they may have peeked in on me while I was asleep doesn’t bother me. I know the psychoanalytic explanations for how dreams and hallucinations can be transferred to video recording without the aid of special effects. As rare as the occurrence is, it seems that it follows me wherever I go. Perhaps it’s a testament to how powerful Angelo really is. Or maybe it’s just proof he’s right…that this “reality” we live in is just some happy illusion created to save us from the bitter and cold reality and truth of what is before us.”
Fate smirks, as if he knows this admission of Angelo being right will scare the living **** out of every man and woman in NCW, maybe even the world. Fate knows he’s out here for a reason, a reason that may just get him a subliminal edge over his opponents and a spot on the Battle Grounds card.
“So you probably know why I am here, cutting a promo. Somewhere far beyond the realms of city life and the typical; somewhere a bit more “rural”. Agrarian, I guess, would be the best way to explain my whereabouts right now. There are many rural and agrarian areas of the country, far more than my native Italy. It’s beautiful, the countryside. Most people don’t realize it even exists; too busy living their own lives. Too busy to talk, like my three opponents this week. All have been silent, and all are new blood here in NCW. True, I’ve only had two matches, both tag, and I won half of them, but I have yet to be pinned or submitted, since February of last year. It’s scary, to think, I’m undefeated in more than three federations. Just think, what I could accomplish if I keep up the record. I’d be NCW Champ in no time at all. But I would also need to beat the right people. Like Angel, or Steve Awesome, or even the champion himself in a non-title match. Any of those could help me climb the ladder here in NCW. But for now, I’m stuck facing a bunch of mute nobody’s who will probably stay mute, and probably cower in fear of the one they call Fate. Because, of course, I am their Inevitable Fate. I am the one they fear, because I am the one who will ultimately prevail. I always do, and always have, unless my partners have somehow failed to work well enough on this. I mean…technically I won at Trauma, Technically. But I count it as a loss because I did not pin Adam, and get my shot at the Xtreme title. And to be honest, I actually didn’t want that ****ing title shot at all, and the fact I even showed up is a testament to the workhorse Fate is.”
Fate laughs to himself, his eyes and face coming over with a confidence and sick joy of berating his opponents. He knows this territory well, he’s been a professional for over two and a half years now…he knows how to cut a promo and get into his opponents’ heads.
“You guys are just lucky I don’t know you as well as I knew some of my opponents elsewhere…also you’re lucky this place doesn’t exactly allow for the things I am used to doing. I can’t do drugs, outside of prescriptions, which sucks. I’ll find some way around that rule, in time, just as I always do. I’ve also been known to dig up corpses of dead relatives of my opponents and **** them. Yes, I have ****ed dead bodies, and am notorious and famous for one in particular, Bryan Laughlin of IWA and MECCA’s dead grandmother. To be honest, I think she could have used a bit of an air freshener, but…people get what they deserve by trying to blame me for the death of people I had not killed. And these three men I face will get what they deserve. They will bow down before their gods and pray for victory, but they will undoubtedly lose to Fate. There’s no stopping Fate. There is no avoiding Fate. Fate is an indefinite and unmovable conclusion. It is the inevitable outcome, determined far well before your birth. And for NCW, I am your Fate. For these three men: Joe Clash, Steve Marley, and Nathan Webb; I will be their Fate. There is no escaping me. There is no tricking me. There is no way around me. I have the power of Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis on my side. The Fates, Fate itself, is on my side. None of these men will have such things on their side. All these fools will fall, one by one, to Fate’s power. Once Fate has been decided, there is no way to avoid it. Just watch the movies Final Destination…when Death is calling, there is no way to get around it. Death will get you. Fate…will get you. And Fate will come at Trauma for these three men. They will have their hopes of appearing on the first Pay Per View since their joining, crushed by one man. I am that man. I am your Fate. And at Trauma, I will be victorious. Nothing can stop it, and nothing can help it. Vestri Fortuna Est Supervenio…for you three douche bags who don’t know what that means…it means YOUR FATE HAS ARRIVED!”
Fate cackles like a lunatic as we cut to static. His sick cackle is heard as the static fades to black.
It’s far after dark as Fate drives down this lonely stretch of highway. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or why he’s going there. He just “felt” something calling him down this road. Fog slowly wafts over the pavement ahead, and the forest around us on all sides appears to be closing in. Ahead, in the fog, is something large. Fate slams on his breaks, in order to avoid hitting it. When he stops, he looks ahead of himself to see this “thing” before him. It is over 10 feet tall, and carries with it a giant rusty battle axe. The beast picks up his car with ease, and flips it over. Fate is trapped, unable to escape, as the beast drags the axe closer. He pulls on his seatbelt, and tries to open the door, but he’s stuck. He hears the sound of a fire brewing near his gas tank…he screams…
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” Fate jolts up off his hotel bed, awakening in a cold sweat. The dream felt so real, so…familiar. As he realizes he’s safe within his hotel room, he calms down. He takes in the room around him, just as he expects it to be at this late hour of the night. Dark, with city lights illuminating through the shut curtains. Did he wake the people nearby? Or were they still up, doing the nasty? “Why…what the hell was that?”
He slowly crawls out of his bed, and moves to the bathroom. He runs the cold water, and splashes his face as he ponders exactly what this means. He’s had this dream a couple times now, in a couple different versions. This reminds him of the story Prophet told him about his nightmares of Dwayberry some months ago. Prophet had many nightmares about Dwayberry, and confided in Fate what they truly represented, at least for him. It represented his guilt for being away from his family, and he was being punished through nightmares that they were lost in this monster-filled town in the middle of nowhere, with dense hallucinogenic Nightshade fog. Sometimes Prophet would wake up and still be able to feel himself there, in that place. Other times, he’d wake up in the middle of the streets, or an alleyway, just like he had been sleep-walking the whole time. It scared Prophet enough to get examined and get prescriptions to help ease the nightmares. Fate, however, hasn’t had such luck with his medication. Not as much luck as the thing that he used before he “cleaned up”.
“At least when I was still shooting up Heroin, the nightmares didn’t leave me waking up in a cold sweat multiple times a night. At least then, I could sleep through the ****ing things. Now, now I’m just stuck waking up time after time at all hours of the night, losing sleep over women who have been dead for a very long time. And yet, they don’t seem dead to me, they still feel like they may be out there, waiting for me. Just like the letter, the phone call…hell even the note with the dead birds pointed toward that ****ing town. But why Dwayberry? Why a place named after Nightshade? Does this have to do with my name? The name I have been using for so very long now? Or is this something different, I can’t tell.”
Fate wipes his face on one of the hanging hand towels as he slowly leaves the bathroom, preparing to go back to sleep. But somehow, he thinks there’s something with the room, something he must investigate.
“I need to check…just in case…” Fate says as he walks over to the dresser. He slowly pulls open the top drawer, and sighs when he sees it is only his clothes. “Ok…no cut up pieces of female intimates or sex organs…I’m not still dreaming, I’m back.”
“You wish you were back, don’t you, Fate?” A twisted, yet familiar voice calls from Fate’s reflection in the television which is turned off. Even in the dim light we can see the reflection clear as day, the reflection not of Fate, but Angelo Della Muerte.
“What do you mean by THAT?” Fate asks his reflection.
“You know what I mean, Fate. You’re never really back in the “real world” unless you’re back where you were last year…when I was haunting your every waking and sleeping hour. That is reality, Fate, not this. This is…”Objective” reality, the collective reality that these fools have force-fed themselves for so very many years. And now, Fate, you realize you’ve been living in this false reality, and you feel so familiarly home in the nightmares and hallucinations. Just like everyone else has had. Waking up from nightmares that feel so real, smell so real, taste so real. You’ve woken up from nightmares still smelling rotten flesh, and tasting the thick decrepit air on your tongue. You realized long ago this isn’t reality, Fate. Why do you keep trying to tell yourself this is “real”?”
“Because everything you’ve shown me is a god-damned lie! You’re a trickster, a fake, and a ****ing liar. There is nothing “real” about where you took me, Angelo. Everything that was there is all just hallucinations and you try to TELL me it is real. You wish it was real, because if it were reality, you’d be God.”
“You are right, if that were reality, I’d be God. But you know, it IS real, you feel it deep down in your soul it is reality. Don’t deny what you see, Fate…don’t deny what you KNOW!”
Angelo’s image in Fate’s reflection fades away, leaving just Fate’s normal reflection. But the words still hang in the air, like venomous bites from a viper. “Don’t deny what you KNOW!” What did he mean by that? Did he mean that everything this “real world” presents is a lie? That every last living soul on this Earth who lives in this “real world” has been lied to and lying to themselves for their whole lives. People living and dying in a false reality in order to shelter themselves from the horribly awful truth that they turned Eden into Hell. We fade to black.
[Begin Next Scene]
Fate stands on the side of a bridge, overlooking the water. It’s sunny out today, for once. This bridge is nowhere near his hotel; he’s out miles into the country from where the hotel is located. But he likes it here, it’s quiet, and nothing can bother him from what he is here to do.
“I feel a change in scenery was necessary, that stuffy hotel room wasn’t very “natural” an environment to be cutting promos from. Even thinking that they may have peeked in on me while I was asleep doesn’t bother me. I know the psychoanalytic explanations for how dreams and hallucinations can be transferred to video recording without the aid of special effects. As rare as the occurrence is, it seems that it follows me wherever I go. Perhaps it’s a testament to how powerful Angelo really is. Or maybe it’s just proof he’s right…that this “reality” we live in is just some happy illusion created to save us from the bitter and cold reality and truth of what is before us.”
Fate smirks, as if he knows this admission of Angelo being right will scare the living **** out of every man and woman in NCW, maybe even the world. Fate knows he’s out here for a reason, a reason that may just get him a subliminal edge over his opponents and a spot on the Battle Grounds card.
“So you probably know why I am here, cutting a promo. Somewhere far beyond the realms of city life and the typical; somewhere a bit more “rural”. Agrarian, I guess, would be the best way to explain my whereabouts right now. There are many rural and agrarian areas of the country, far more than my native Italy. It’s beautiful, the countryside. Most people don’t realize it even exists; too busy living their own lives. Too busy to talk, like my three opponents this week. All have been silent, and all are new blood here in NCW. True, I’ve only had two matches, both tag, and I won half of them, but I have yet to be pinned or submitted, since February of last year. It’s scary, to think, I’m undefeated in more than three federations. Just think, what I could accomplish if I keep up the record. I’d be NCW Champ in no time at all. But I would also need to beat the right people. Like Angel, or Steve Awesome, or even the champion himself in a non-title match. Any of those could help me climb the ladder here in NCW. But for now, I’m stuck facing a bunch of mute nobody’s who will probably stay mute, and probably cower in fear of the one they call Fate. Because, of course, I am their Inevitable Fate. I am the one they fear, because I am the one who will ultimately prevail. I always do, and always have, unless my partners have somehow failed to work well enough on this. I mean…technically I won at Trauma, Technically. But I count it as a loss because I did not pin Adam, and get my shot at the Xtreme title. And to be honest, I actually didn’t want that ****ing title shot at all, and the fact I even showed up is a testament to the workhorse Fate is.”
Fate laughs to himself, his eyes and face coming over with a confidence and sick joy of berating his opponents. He knows this territory well, he’s been a professional for over two and a half years now…he knows how to cut a promo and get into his opponents’ heads.
“You guys are just lucky I don’t know you as well as I knew some of my opponents elsewhere…also you’re lucky this place doesn’t exactly allow for the things I am used to doing. I can’t do drugs, outside of prescriptions, which sucks. I’ll find some way around that rule, in time, just as I always do. I’ve also been known to dig up corpses of dead relatives of my opponents and **** them. Yes, I have ****ed dead bodies, and am notorious and famous for one in particular, Bryan Laughlin of IWA and MECCA’s dead grandmother. To be honest, I think she could have used a bit of an air freshener, but…people get what they deserve by trying to blame me for the death of people I had not killed. And these three men I face will get what they deserve. They will bow down before their gods and pray for victory, but they will undoubtedly lose to Fate. There’s no stopping Fate. There is no avoiding Fate. Fate is an indefinite and unmovable conclusion. It is the inevitable outcome, determined far well before your birth. And for NCW, I am your Fate. For these three men: Joe Clash, Steve Marley, and Nathan Webb; I will be their Fate. There is no escaping me. There is no tricking me. There is no way around me. I have the power of Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis on my side. The Fates, Fate itself, is on my side. None of these men will have such things on their side. All these fools will fall, one by one, to Fate’s power. Once Fate has been decided, there is no way to avoid it. Just watch the movies Final Destination…when Death is calling, there is no way to get around it. Death will get you. Fate…will get you. And Fate will come at Trauma for these three men. They will have their hopes of appearing on the first Pay Per View since their joining, crushed by one man. I am that man. I am your Fate. And at Trauma, I will be victorious. Nothing can stop it, and nothing can help it. Vestri Fortuna Est Supervenio…for you three douche bags who don’t know what that means…it means YOUR FATE HAS ARRIVED!”
Fate cackles like a lunatic as we cut to static. His sick cackle is heard as the static fades to black.