Post by adm on Nov 1, 2008 8:58:55 GMT -6
“And yet I fight. And yet I fight. This battle all alone. No one to cry to. No place to call home.”
The lyrics from the classic Alice in Chains song echo through the darkness of All Hallows Eve’s night. Fate sits alone on the beach, staring out into the vast ocean. He doesn’t need to “dress” for this event, for he’s already wearing a costume, or at least that’s what some would wish to think. But for Fate, this isn’t a costume, or fun, it’s something a lot deeper and more dangerous. He struggles with his internal battle daily, and only since he’s donned his new “outfit” has that been most appropriately focused externally.
As he sits alone at the ocean, one wonders what happened to Susan. Knowing Fate’s history, either she’s dead…or he and ADM drove her off. Though we all know what comes of his isolation and attempts at hiding, they only backfire upon him, making him the “laughing stock” of nCw.
“And yet I find. And yet I find. Repeating in my head. If I can’t be my own. I’d feel better dead.”
Fate’s face is cold, emotionless. He doesn’t smile, there’s no sparkle in his eyes. His long trench coat is just lying next to him in the sand, things sticking out of the many pockets. Fate strips down, ripping his dark shirt from his body. He lets the cold sea spray burn against his many wounds and battle scars from the past three years. He’s not the same man he once was, this is for certain. When he debuted in wrestling, he debuted as his alter-ego, Angelo Della Muerte. He fought for his body, his soul, back then. He faced himself in a very brutal Xtreme match, only to turn into his most dormant alternate personality. But that didn’t last; he soon regained control and was “Fate” again. Though that isn’t his given name, it’s a pseudonym assumed to protect himself and his “new face” from that which caused him to be on the run to begin with.
“It was nearly sixteen years ago, now. Sixteen years ago they tried to take out my entire family in an end to a lifelong blood-feud. I’m the only one left. No cousins, no brothers, no sisters, and no parents…bad enough the first thing a ten-year-old boy did with his inheritance was to get a completely new face. I’ve had the luck that nobody has done enough damage to it to make me look familiar to those who would still want me dead over there. There is indeed good reason why I haven’t gone “home”. I don’t HAVE a home. I’m homeless, per say. There’s nothing in Italy for me, not anymore. The last hopes of that died with Cecilia so many years ago. And you don’t understand, none of you do, what it means to be me.”
He pulls out his trusty pack of cigarettes and lights one up as he stretches along the soft sandy banks. He knows, of course, smoking is bad for him. Never stopped him, never will. He also knows drugs are bad for him, but for the longest time he was in the grips of heroin and cocaine addiction. For him, prescriptions only made his “condition” worse. They never helped subdue the voices within his head, never helped subdue Angelo Della Muerte. Fate is insane, indeed, and he knows it. But some days, he does indeed wonder if he’s truly paranoid or if he is being persecuted by more than just his alternate selves.
He walks not far from his clothing, knowing exactly what it is he needs is fresh air, and fresh perspective. This week he’s refrained as best he can from doing the “typical” and going completely off the wall. He’s used up just about every ounce of energy to subdue Angelo Della Muerte from doing things, and now, all that is left is to unleash the demon within at Mind Games and capture the title, or at least, that’s what should be left.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped within my own head, while voices from the outside keep persecuting me for how I act and how I’ve acted in the past. It feels like I’m the one being punished for crimes fabricated only to make me suffer. This, I know, must be true. Fate is Destined to continue to torment me with ADM and his constant persecution of me until I finally cave and either kill myself once and for all, or hand over what is left of my body to him. But nobody, none of my opponents, understand the dangerous nature of ADM. They don’t understand exactly how dark he is. He IS Death, but some people don’t believe it. “How could you have a personality that is the Grim Reaper? That makes no sense.” But it does, if only you take a look at my history you’d know why. How many of my girlfriends have died mysterious deaths, only so that it could HAUNT ME and TORTURE ME? How come my entire family was eradicated and I was left alive? So that I could walk through life blaming myself, of course. Everything done in my life involving death and destruction of those around me has his name sprawled all over it. It is all one large attempt to wear me down and take over this body.
I don’t know what he is planning with my body. I don’t know if he plans on being the next Hitler or just going about killing hundreds of random people until he makes a mistake and gets caught, moving on to the next unlucky soul to harbor him. He’s a virus of humanity and life. And this virus wants to destroy you, AJ. He wants to kill your loved ones. He wants to see you suffer in torment, before finally taking the blade to your throat and doing you too. And Hammond, there’s so much comparisons between you and an old “friend” of mine, Bryan Laughlin. Now, ADM had sex with Bryan’s dead grandmother…twice. And he also gave “selected” pieces of the dead woman’s body to Bryan as a gift when we were in MECCA together. Now…to say he wants to REPEAT that to you is to give him not enough credit. He wants to do something so much worse; it’s not even worth speaking of. He’s psychotic beyond imagination, and at Mind Games, my strength will give out and he’ll take over…if only for the match.”
Fate puts out his cigarette and moves back to his clothes. He pulls out a slip of paper; it looks like a medical diagnosis. His face contorts into a near demonic glare as he looks at the paper. He stares it down as if it is his very worst enemy. His voice changes into that of the familiar, sinister, and psychotic Angelo Della Muerte.
“Doctor Blair, the stupid ****, diagnosed Fate for the first time with a full diagnosis. He threatened to lock US up for life, after SEEING what I MADE him see. But now he can’t even speak without that voice box. He should thank the God that I am every day that he still draws breath!”
*Flashback*
Dr. Blair gets no response. Fate is silent. The world around us begins to change. The room begins to melt away, and Dr. Blair is seeing what we see. He begins to press a button on his motorized wheelchair that must be a call for help. There will be no help here. The door disappears, and as the walls melt we begin to see Angelo Della Muerte’s hell returning to this world. Fate’s face begins to smirk, as he slides to his feet like a wraith. Dr. Blair continues to back up.
Doctor Blair, fearful, asks himself aloud, "Why isn’t anyone coming? What the **** is going on here!"
The room continues to change. The walls are made of flesh. The floor is covered in blood and rusted metal. The television turns into the upper torso of a monster, with ribs splayed so you can see the inner workings. The monster is still alive, the heart beating, the lungs breathing. Dr. Blair sees all of this and begins to turn his wheelchair around; facing what used to be the door. Instead of the door, he sees Fate, standing over him with a cold look in his eyes. This isn’t Fate anymore; this is Angelo Della Muerte.
*End Flashback*
Angelo laughs, recalling the grisly scene that followed those words. He remembers the power he once held on this world, but somehow, Fate has managed to keep him at bay well enough to prevent another “repeat”.
“You just don’t understand me, nCw; you don’t get Angelo Della Muerte. You fail to BELIEVE what I am. You fail, like everyone, to realize I am no disease, no figment of Fate’s imagination, but as real as both AJ and Hammond. But that’s ok, at Mind Games, I’ll be there. And I’ll SHOW you the path of Angelo Della Muerte, and you will SEE my HELL!”
As he cackles, Fate falls into the sand gasping for breath. The clutches of his alternate self leaving, if only for a moment. He stares at the diagnosis, his face still holding that same look of dark disappointment.
“After long conversations with Fate, and going through his history, I believe that he is truly paranoid schizophrenic from the most basic of clinical standpoints. He has delusions of grandeur through Angelo Della Muerte, believing that he has power to kill from a distance, the ability to change the world around him into a twisted mass of blood and flesh. He’s truly disturbed, indeed. He also feels persecuted, not only by the world that shuns his actions, but by his own self. He feels responsible for deaths he had no control in preventing and blames himself for so many atrocities committed around him. He also hears auditory hallucinations of Angelo Della Muerte’s voice, and on many occasions switches “voices” in order that, to prevent further persecution, people HEAR what HE HEARS. I’ve suggested medication and therapy treatment, but if that fails to work, there is no choice but to move on to more drastic choices such as Shock Therapy or permanently locking him within a state mental facility.”
Fate pulls out his lighter and burns his diagnosis in front of the camera.
“THIS is what I think of your DIAGNOSIS! You ****ing Quack doctors know NOTHING of what he is, or what he does to me…and you. But maybe NOW you believe, Dr. Blair. After he took your voice, cut you up like a ****ing Thanksgiving Turkey, and scarred you mentally with the nightmares of his “Hell”…maybe now you ****ing understand and believe!”
Fate cackles like a demented freak, before catching himself. He pulls out a small pack of cards from his coat and begins to play a “game” on the sand. He is setting up a “reading” for Mind Games using his trusty Tarot Cards. He forms the points of a pentagram with five cards before sitting down on the cold sand next to his cards, a sick smile crossing his face.
“Now, AJ and Hammond have been persecuting me, and making FUN of me all week. But I know a way to get to their heads. I know something about Tarot, and how to read the cards, not only accurately predicting the future, but giving deep insights into the past and present. Now…let us BEGIN!”
Fate flips over the left point of the star, we see him uncover a card with three “wands”.
“Three of Wands, the Past. The contradictions of life. Hate breeding love, love begetting hate. Living with the decisions and bad choices we have made, and I have made plenty. And across from that is the Six of Wands, to become totally involved within a situation. The future does look accurate, at least in the “broad” sense of what was, what is to be. Total involvement is ALL that Mind Games is about. The use of optimal energies, strengths and weaknesses, to achieve the desired goal. And the bottom left, Death. This is what I find difficult, and indeed, it is. I find it difficult to face the day, every day, against ADM. He IS Death, and the card represents my darkest self, and my worst enemy. He is my struggle, and he is my death, in the end. Sitting on the field, waiting to reap the souls of the unworthy, he waits. He waits for Mind Games.”
Fate laughs maniacally, as he flips over the card beside it. When he sees the card, representing “what makes sense” to him…he stops. His face goes from joy to blank. The card he revealed is the Wheel of Fortune.
“Oh my…” Fate’s words are cold, flat in affect and lacking in emotion. “This isn’t good at all.” Fate’s voice slowly begins to return to normal “dark” emotion as he continues to explain this turn of events. “Now, this card represents me, who I am. But I don’t really understand myself. I don’t make sense, to myself or anyone else. The further you advance down the road the more you realize that one’s good luck is not luck at all, but a product of Fate. You realize how pointless getting by is, and how you either must excel just once, or bow out of the race forever. It is time to become a new level of being, to become something greater than yourself. And for ME, this time is NOW! I will capture the X-Division title, and accomplish a goal beyond myself, transforming me into something I haven’t been in this company…a champion.”
As he says this, he hesitates to leave, but remembers the one final card sitting, face down in the sand. Fate laughs as he picks up the card, and looks at it in private. His laugh slowly becomes more malicious and full of disdain for life itself. He is no longer Fate, but ADM once more.
“And the ultimate goal for Mind Games…JUDGEMENT! The sinners against Fate will be judged for their crimes of persecution and laughing. You will pay AJ, and Hammond. You will not get away with LAUGHING at ADM! For it will be I who is LAUGHING at the end of MIND GAMES! MWAHAHA! KWEEEHEE! HAHA! MWAHA! KWEEE!”
As Fate begins to saunter away, he turns around and utters a few last words.
“Vestri Fortuna Est Supervenio.”
Fate finishes his sauntering as we fade to black. Transmission ends there.
The lyrics from the classic Alice in Chains song echo through the darkness of All Hallows Eve’s night. Fate sits alone on the beach, staring out into the vast ocean. He doesn’t need to “dress” for this event, for he’s already wearing a costume, or at least that’s what some would wish to think. But for Fate, this isn’t a costume, or fun, it’s something a lot deeper and more dangerous. He struggles with his internal battle daily, and only since he’s donned his new “outfit” has that been most appropriately focused externally.
As he sits alone at the ocean, one wonders what happened to Susan. Knowing Fate’s history, either she’s dead…or he and ADM drove her off. Though we all know what comes of his isolation and attempts at hiding, they only backfire upon him, making him the “laughing stock” of nCw.
“And yet I find. And yet I find. Repeating in my head. If I can’t be my own. I’d feel better dead.”
Fate’s face is cold, emotionless. He doesn’t smile, there’s no sparkle in his eyes. His long trench coat is just lying next to him in the sand, things sticking out of the many pockets. Fate strips down, ripping his dark shirt from his body. He lets the cold sea spray burn against his many wounds and battle scars from the past three years. He’s not the same man he once was, this is for certain. When he debuted in wrestling, he debuted as his alter-ego, Angelo Della Muerte. He fought for his body, his soul, back then. He faced himself in a very brutal Xtreme match, only to turn into his most dormant alternate personality. But that didn’t last; he soon regained control and was “Fate” again. Though that isn’t his given name, it’s a pseudonym assumed to protect himself and his “new face” from that which caused him to be on the run to begin with.
“It was nearly sixteen years ago, now. Sixteen years ago they tried to take out my entire family in an end to a lifelong blood-feud. I’m the only one left. No cousins, no brothers, no sisters, and no parents…bad enough the first thing a ten-year-old boy did with his inheritance was to get a completely new face. I’ve had the luck that nobody has done enough damage to it to make me look familiar to those who would still want me dead over there. There is indeed good reason why I haven’t gone “home”. I don’t HAVE a home. I’m homeless, per say. There’s nothing in Italy for me, not anymore. The last hopes of that died with Cecilia so many years ago. And you don’t understand, none of you do, what it means to be me.”
He pulls out his trusty pack of cigarettes and lights one up as he stretches along the soft sandy banks. He knows, of course, smoking is bad for him. Never stopped him, never will. He also knows drugs are bad for him, but for the longest time he was in the grips of heroin and cocaine addiction. For him, prescriptions only made his “condition” worse. They never helped subdue the voices within his head, never helped subdue Angelo Della Muerte. Fate is insane, indeed, and he knows it. But some days, he does indeed wonder if he’s truly paranoid or if he is being persecuted by more than just his alternate selves.
He walks not far from his clothing, knowing exactly what it is he needs is fresh air, and fresh perspective. This week he’s refrained as best he can from doing the “typical” and going completely off the wall. He’s used up just about every ounce of energy to subdue Angelo Della Muerte from doing things, and now, all that is left is to unleash the demon within at Mind Games and capture the title, or at least, that’s what should be left.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped within my own head, while voices from the outside keep persecuting me for how I act and how I’ve acted in the past. It feels like I’m the one being punished for crimes fabricated only to make me suffer. This, I know, must be true. Fate is Destined to continue to torment me with ADM and his constant persecution of me until I finally cave and either kill myself once and for all, or hand over what is left of my body to him. But nobody, none of my opponents, understand the dangerous nature of ADM. They don’t understand exactly how dark he is. He IS Death, but some people don’t believe it. “How could you have a personality that is the Grim Reaper? That makes no sense.” But it does, if only you take a look at my history you’d know why. How many of my girlfriends have died mysterious deaths, only so that it could HAUNT ME and TORTURE ME? How come my entire family was eradicated and I was left alive? So that I could walk through life blaming myself, of course. Everything done in my life involving death and destruction of those around me has his name sprawled all over it. It is all one large attempt to wear me down and take over this body.
I don’t know what he is planning with my body. I don’t know if he plans on being the next Hitler or just going about killing hundreds of random people until he makes a mistake and gets caught, moving on to the next unlucky soul to harbor him. He’s a virus of humanity and life. And this virus wants to destroy you, AJ. He wants to kill your loved ones. He wants to see you suffer in torment, before finally taking the blade to your throat and doing you too. And Hammond, there’s so much comparisons between you and an old “friend” of mine, Bryan Laughlin. Now, ADM had sex with Bryan’s dead grandmother…twice. And he also gave “selected” pieces of the dead woman’s body to Bryan as a gift when we were in MECCA together. Now…to say he wants to REPEAT that to you is to give him not enough credit. He wants to do something so much worse; it’s not even worth speaking of. He’s psychotic beyond imagination, and at Mind Games, my strength will give out and he’ll take over…if only for the match.”
Fate puts out his cigarette and moves back to his clothes. He pulls out a slip of paper; it looks like a medical diagnosis. His face contorts into a near demonic glare as he looks at the paper. He stares it down as if it is his very worst enemy. His voice changes into that of the familiar, sinister, and psychotic Angelo Della Muerte.
“Doctor Blair, the stupid ****, diagnosed Fate for the first time with a full diagnosis. He threatened to lock US up for life, after SEEING what I MADE him see. But now he can’t even speak without that voice box. He should thank the God that I am every day that he still draws breath!”
*Flashback*
Dr. Blair gets no response. Fate is silent. The world around us begins to change. The room begins to melt away, and Dr. Blair is seeing what we see. He begins to press a button on his motorized wheelchair that must be a call for help. There will be no help here. The door disappears, and as the walls melt we begin to see Angelo Della Muerte’s hell returning to this world. Fate’s face begins to smirk, as he slides to his feet like a wraith. Dr. Blair continues to back up.
Doctor Blair, fearful, asks himself aloud, "Why isn’t anyone coming? What the **** is going on here!"
The room continues to change. The walls are made of flesh. The floor is covered in blood and rusted metal. The television turns into the upper torso of a monster, with ribs splayed so you can see the inner workings. The monster is still alive, the heart beating, the lungs breathing. Dr. Blair sees all of this and begins to turn his wheelchair around; facing what used to be the door. Instead of the door, he sees Fate, standing over him with a cold look in his eyes. This isn’t Fate anymore; this is Angelo Della Muerte.
*End Flashback*
Angelo laughs, recalling the grisly scene that followed those words. He remembers the power he once held on this world, but somehow, Fate has managed to keep him at bay well enough to prevent another “repeat”.
“You just don’t understand me, nCw; you don’t get Angelo Della Muerte. You fail to BELIEVE what I am. You fail, like everyone, to realize I am no disease, no figment of Fate’s imagination, but as real as both AJ and Hammond. But that’s ok, at Mind Games, I’ll be there. And I’ll SHOW you the path of Angelo Della Muerte, and you will SEE my HELL!”
As he cackles, Fate falls into the sand gasping for breath. The clutches of his alternate self leaving, if only for a moment. He stares at the diagnosis, his face still holding that same look of dark disappointment.
“After long conversations with Fate, and going through his history, I believe that he is truly paranoid schizophrenic from the most basic of clinical standpoints. He has delusions of grandeur through Angelo Della Muerte, believing that he has power to kill from a distance, the ability to change the world around him into a twisted mass of blood and flesh. He’s truly disturbed, indeed. He also feels persecuted, not only by the world that shuns his actions, but by his own self. He feels responsible for deaths he had no control in preventing and blames himself for so many atrocities committed around him. He also hears auditory hallucinations of Angelo Della Muerte’s voice, and on many occasions switches “voices” in order that, to prevent further persecution, people HEAR what HE HEARS. I’ve suggested medication and therapy treatment, but if that fails to work, there is no choice but to move on to more drastic choices such as Shock Therapy or permanently locking him within a state mental facility.”
Fate pulls out his lighter and burns his diagnosis in front of the camera.
“THIS is what I think of your DIAGNOSIS! You ****ing Quack doctors know NOTHING of what he is, or what he does to me…and you. But maybe NOW you believe, Dr. Blair. After he took your voice, cut you up like a ****ing Thanksgiving Turkey, and scarred you mentally with the nightmares of his “Hell”…maybe now you ****ing understand and believe!”
Fate cackles like a demented freak, before catching himself. He pulls out a small pack of cards from his coat and begins to play a “game” on the sand. He is setting up a “reading” for Mind Games using his trusty Tarot Cards. He forms the points of a pentagram with five cards before sitting down on the cold sand next to his cards, a sick smile crossing his face.
“Now, AJ and Hammond have been persecuting me, and making FUN of me all week. But I know a way to get to their heads. I know something about Tarot, and how to read the cards, not only accurately predicting the future, but giving deep insights into the past and present. Now…let us BEGIN!”
Fate flips over the left point of the star, we see him uncover a card with three “wands”.
“Three of Wands, the Past. The contradictions of life. Hate breeding love, love begetting hate. Living with the decisions and bad choices we have made, and I have made plenty. And across from that is the Six of Wands, to become totally involved within a situation. The future does look accurate, at least in the “broad” sense of what was, what is to be. Total involvement is ALL that Mind Games is about. The use of optimal energies, strengths and weaknesses, to achieve the desired goal. And the bottom left, Death. This is what I find difficult, and indeed, it is. I find it difficult to face the day, every day, against ADM. He IS Death, and the card represents my darkest self, and my worst enemy. He is my struggle, and he is my death, in the end. Sitting on the field, waiting to reap the souls of the unworthy, he waits. He waits for Mind Games.”
Fate laughs maniacally, as he flips over the card beside it. When he sees the card, representing “what makes sense” to him…he stops. His face goes from joy to blank. The card he revealed is the Wheel of Fortune.
“Oh my…” Fate’s words are cold, flat in affect and lacking in emotion. “This isn’t good at all.” Fate’s voice slowly begins to return to normal “dark” emotion as he continues to explain this turn of events. “Now, this card represents me, who I am. But I don’t really understand myself. I don’t make sense, to myself or anyone else. The further you advance down the road the more you realize that one’s good luck is not luck at all, but a product of Fate. You realize how pointless getting by is, and how you either must excel just once, or bow out of the race forever. It is time to become a new level of being, to become something greater than yourself. And for ME, this time is NOW! I will capture the X-Division title, and accomplish a goal beyond myself, transforming me into something I haven’t been in this company…a champion.”
As he says this, he hesitates to leave, but remembers the one final card sitting, face down in the sand. Fate laughs as he picks up the card, and looks at it in private. His laugh slowly becomes more malicious and full of disdain for life itself. He is no longer Fate, but ADM once more.
“And the ultimate goal for Mind Games…JUDGEMENT! The sinners against Fate will be judged for their crimes of persecution and laughing. You will pay AJ, and Hammond. You will not get away with LAUGHING at ADM! For it will be I who is LAUGHING at the end of MIND GAMES! MWAHAHA! KWEEEHEE! HAHA! MWAHA! KWEEE!”
As Fate begins to saunter away, he turns around and utters a few last words.
“Vestri Fortuna Est Supervenio.”
Fate finishes his sauntering as we fade to black. Transmission ends there.