Post by Kaz on Jul 10, 2014 1:38:35 GMT -5
[Segment 1 – Sublime Creator]
The used, defiled, and wretched lead me down this bleak and miserable path, lit only by sconces spread along the walls at aligning lengths. The flames bounced off the stony corridor, playing tricks on my eyes and leading me to believe demons lurked around every corner. The terror I felt inside did not amount to the dread I felt on the outside. I tried to squirm and escape from my captors but to no avail, the demon fist clutched tight around my arm. We reached the end of the hallway and a large oak door, emblazoned with an insignia of a dragon surrounded by cherry blossom petals, creaked open and leaked a plasma red light in to the archway. The clutch tossed me in to the room and I hit the stone floor hard as the most familiar taste of blood entered my mouth.
?: Bring him to me.
The voice sounded intimate, almost family. I turned around to see who had led me down the passageway. My mouth opened but only a silent scream escaped as I locked eyes with Miguel Vibaros. A grin etched across his corpse-like face. A bullet hole was present in his forehead but he paid no heed to it. He walked towards me and lifted me by the throat, bringing me to the entity in rule. A cloaked figure stood at the top of a stone altar with a ceremonial blade in his hand. The cowl cast a shadow over his face, hiding his identity from me. They began to strap me to the table but I was unable to resist. Where was there to go?
?: This one is mine. Oh…how I’ve waited for this…
The hooded figure drew out the last S on his sentence before respiring in a heinous breath. A claw of a hand reached towards the hood. My eyes widened as the hood slipped back, revealing my very own face staring back at me with a pair of dead eyes. The blade came down and I screamed for the very last time.
[Segment 2 – Doomsday Musings]
I awoke, startled and thrashing my covers about. I barely found my way out by sliding off the side of the bed and hitting the floor with a crash. I could hear the people below me beating on the ceiling but something in my peripheral vision attracted my attention. A shape folding in the corner, something made of pure evil. I leaped to my feet, pulled the light string, and prepared to fight for my life…
But the corner remained empty. I let my guard down but my body stayed on guard, leaving a feeling of anxiety crushing my chest. I ran to the bathroom and splashed water in my face. When I removed my hands from my eyes, the face of Miguel Vibaros stood there, staring daggers in to my eyes. I whipped around to nothingness. I began knocking stuff off of the bathroom countertop with anger befitting a adolescent rhinoceros. Visions of that day on the boat arose, playing like a macabre film reel in my mind’s eye. I saw Miguel pounding Patrick’s face in, then Miguel shooting Rabuele, Miguel stabbing Sykes, and then Miguel’s eyes right before I pulled the trigger.
A silent scream escapes my throat as I move towards the toilet, vomiting until all contents of my stomach had been evacuated. I flushed the toilet and rest against the wall and tried to move my mind to more innocent things, but I couldn’t cleanse my thoughts. I walked out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. After pouring myself a glass of water and chugging it like a poor, dying bastard, my computer chimed and alerted me I had a notification. I stirred the mouse and the screen whirred to life, pouring the electronic haze of radiance in to my gloomy apartment. A notification blip wavered in the corner of the screen. I clicked on it and my email opened.
1 NEW MESSAGE
The email was from an unknown address. I opened the email and it contained a link to a website, end time apostles dot com, with just a few lines of text.
“Prepare Colin. Prepare yourself for Doomsday.”
I hesitantly clicked the link and the web page opened. The home screen was littered with Doomsday effigy with the dragon and cherry blossom insignia front and center. I began scrolling down and a blog message began.
He has shown me the way. The door to my soul has been closed for far too long and the unveiling is all thanks to Our Savior, Our Lord, Seifer Black. I have never met our Doomsday Prophet but I feel like he knows me intimately. He has a way of reaching in to your heart and showing you the true meaning of life. I heard him in his first prophecy and he was speaking directly to me.
“Through me the way is to the city dolent; Through me the way is to eternal dole; Through me the way among the people lost. Justice incited my sublime Creator; Created me divine Omnipotence, The Highest Wisdom and The Primal Love. Before me there were no created things. Only eterne; and I eternal last. All hope abandon ye who enter with me and may the Devils have mercy on your souls for the angels will have none. Pay heed to my words or you shall all fade to Black.”
- Seifer Black
- Seifer Black
This was the kick I needed. I was nothing before these words were spoken by My Lord, Seifer. He knew what my life was lacking. He knew that I was a misguided soul who needed instruction, who needed a push in the right direction. He told me to empty my mind and surrender myself to something far greater than my mortality. There is a storm coming and we are following in The Fallen Angel’s footsteps. We have a choice to make but time is not a friend to us. We must make this decision fast or fade in to nothing. Fade away.
Colin Marshall: What the hell? People actually listen to this nutjob? They must have a looser grip on reality than Seifer does.
I continued reading. A picture of Tigra Verde ripped to shreds with third degree burns and a picture of Tormenta Roja sprawled out over cinderblocks accompanied the next paragraph.
The dismantling of Tigra Verde and Tormenta Roja should have been enough for Steve Orbit, his heinousness, to see the light. He should have run in fear of Our Lord…but yet, he didn’t. Why not? Because he is a prideful, arrogant fool who only cares about his accessories. His WCF. World. Championship. When Our Lord spoke these words, it sent a shiver down the spine of the earth.
Through light there’s darkness, through daylight the night…Through carnage we scream with unfaithful delight…The grasses are burning as trees fall in fright….The limbs they are churning with leaves only a slight…The children are ailing as men’s heartbeats are failing with women having seizures and arms all a flailing…With humanity living in fear the whale’s siblings wailing and the moon sheds a tear through darkness we’re sailing…
- Seifer Black
- Seifer Black
Colin Marshall: Seifer, you Dark Willy Wonka mother fucker. Let’s take a ride down Samael’s chocolate river and I’ll tell you a creepy story. Then we’ll take over all the Oompa Loompa bitches minds with promises of free candy for life. This guy is pathetic. The only people who would be a scared of something like that are the jobbers he killed. This is absolutely ridiculous.
I continue scrolling down the page, coming across pictures of bodies, mutilated at the hands of Seifer Black. Three people hung from a castle battlement. Their necks were wrung with barbed wire and blood spilled down their torso. A large, inhuman looking man was tied around a tree with half of his cheek hanging from his face, a Glasgow smile. His neck was rent and dried blood caked his shirt and pants. A man in a polo shirt and trousers slouched from his bindings. He was missing half of his face and a wooden stake was driven through the top of his skull.
These images never disturbed me before. I had seen nasty things like this before…I mean, we live in the digital age. I just have to go to three or four websites before I find some violent picture of a dead man. Hell, I just have to watch an episode of WCF and I’ll witness a few deaths. It never bugged me…until I came across this picture. It was a man, slightly resembling Logan, with a bullet hole in his head. The vision reel in my head took me back, once again, to that day on the boat. I pressed the pistol to Miguel’s brow and hugged the trigger. His IQ burst out of the hind of his cranium and clung to the wall behindhand in a grisly abstract. I shook off the recollection, it unnerved me and I was determined to erase it completely from my memory.
Robert: (Voiceover) Up to your old tricks, are you?
The world around me began to melt away. My apartment was being replaced with the coastal forest I had grown accustomed to visiting. I sat now in a clearing surrounded by remarkable greenery. The black oak trees stood tall, casting the entire area in a dim shadow. Robert stood across from me with his arms folded. He wore a black coat that reached down to his knees and made him look taller and physically imposing. I didn’t back down.
Colin Marshall: What the hell are you talking about?
Robert: All I know is that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to plunge memories. Do you think that burying a thought has no price?
I kicked the dirt next to my foot, sending dust permeating in to the wind.
Colin Marshall: Look, I just can’t think about it anym…
Robert: That’s the problem, isn’t it? If you think repressing it is going to help, then you’ve got another thing coming Colin. Let’s fight through this. You have a chance to do this both physically and mentally this Sunday with your rematch against Seifer Black. One on one. Mano y mano. No anchor, no chains. Just The Real Deal versus The Doomsday Prophet.
Colin Marshall: You think that hasn’t been on my mind too? Every time I see Terry Robert’s face I want to…it’s not important. What is important is my rematch against Seifer. He may not realize the importance of this match until I come out and say it. He did exactly what I expected him to last week. He had his butt buddy Samael go and dig him up a Colin clone that he could torture because he couldn’t give off the impression of standing a chance against The Real Deal. He tied and afflicted shock damage to the man’s testicles…that one was kind of out of left field. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised though.
Robert: He has left a trail of great violence in his wake, Colin…but you turned up. You stepped in to that ring and you gave Seifer Blank and Chelsea Blank Hambone the business. You dominated that match. You proved, not only to Seifer, but to the rest of the locker room and the entirety of the WCF Galaxy that you’re ready for the big leagues.
Colin Marshall: I’m ready to get out of this rut. If I must dismantle every inch of that weeaboo’s life in the process…well, that’s just a bonus baby. I didn’t ever want to make this personal, but I can’t help it when my personal and professional lives intertwine. That’s just the nature of the beast and this match is as personal as it can get. It’s about unfinished business. Seifer is the last thing that stands in the way of me ascending the ranks. He’s the last remaining piece of the puzzle. For some reason, I think I need him.
Robert: What do you mean you need him?
Colin Marshall: We live in a world of good versus evil, whether people want to acknowledge it or not. It’s like, even Batman needed the Joker, no matter how much of a homicidal maniac that clown was. I’m not saying I’m a saint…but I certainly don’t traverse the globe and slay anyone who crosses my path. I’m not sure if I’m good or evil and I feel like this match will fully pronounce that. It will make me or break me…and I don’t intend on folding.
Robert: What’s your plan for your match against Seifer?
Colin Marshall: Seifer Black had speed, strength, and durability. He’s what most people would call the “total package”…but I can take that many more lumps, I can outrun him by a mile, and I have the strength in my resolve that you can make damn sure Seifer doesn’t carry within his self. I’m what people call THE REAL DEAL! I went to what I felt was my limit last week, both in and out of the ring, but I showed the world that my story wasn’t over! Not by a long shot! It’s just beginning.
As I spoke the words out loud, I could feel the negativity of the memory on the boat wash away. I felt alive.
Robert: Now get back out there and prove it.
My apartment reformed in front of me. I was still staring at the computer screen. I came to the image of the Colin Marshall effigy, tied to the chair and connected to the device. I exited the website, washing away all imagery and preferring to live in reality.
[Segment 3 – Shine Grease Paint Remover]
I stood outside the supermarket with a tote bag on my right arm. I was in Baltimore at the local Wal-Mart, pushing my new product with the WCF camera crew following in tow. I found an older couple about to enter the store and I stopped them before they went in.
Colin Marshall: Hey, can I have a minute of your time?
The older couple looked at me with confused looks on their faces. They agreed anways.
Colin Marshall: I want to tell you about my new product. It’s called Shine Grease Paint Remover.
Older Lady: Well, what does it do?
Colin Marshall: I’d be glad to show you. I have a visual aid here to help you out.
A man walked up, wearing grease paint on his face and looking like a general disappointment to the human race. I pull a tube of the remover out of the sack and hold it up.
Colin Marshall: You see this sad sack of shit right here? Well, I can use the contents of this tube to wash the mountains of make-up from his face.
I squirt the tube in to the guy’s face and begin to smear it in. The grease paint begins to smudge around but it does start to come off the man’s face.
Colin Marshall: As you can see, it removes the face paint. Unfortunately, it doesn’t wash away the shame, regret, and any hopelessness you may hold for the future. It won’t bring back those last few years of high school or a broken marriage. It certainly doesn’t stop a half-assed U.S. Champion from sticking it in your wife either. Oh, excuse me…ex-wife. It also won’t give you back those last few years on the back burner.
Older Man: So…it’s just make-up remover?
I nodded in a nonchalant way.
Colin Marshall: It’s more than just make-up remover, sir. It’s The Real Deal, don’t you see? It can scrub away this grease paint monkey any day. It knows how to get the job done. Always.
Older Lady: Well…I’ll take ten tubes.
I jutted my elbow in a celebratory motion, rejoicing in my first sale.
Colin Marshall: Well ma’am, I’ve got to tell you, you’ve made a wise choice. You purchased stock in the future. You’ve decided to wash away the face paint days of the past and mark out for The Shine. You’ve made a smart decision, a smart decision indeed.
I handed her ten tubes of the liquid and she walked away. I turned towards the camera and began to address Seifer.
Colin Marshall: You see Seifer, I have an easy day ahead of me…because everyone’s buying what I’m selling. What do you have? A weird fat guy on the internet who probably works at Pet Smart as a night stock man? Look man, I don’t have the world on my shoulders anymore. I don’t care around the burdens that you’ve put upon yourself. I’m going in to this match with a clear mind and you’re going in with every outside influence. I know I’m going to win this one. I know that because I know where I want to be at the end of the day. You say the world isn’t made of leather and gold…well, I say you’re wrong. We live in a world of Championships and Trophies and I’m going to wear the crown as The King of Accolades. I will sit on my rightful throne as the standard in the WCF! I’m THE REAL DEAL! I’m the Marshall, King of Swift Justice! You’ll cry ‘oh the horror!’ and ‘oh the shame!’ when you hear the opening riff to End of Heartache and any facade of a hope or dream you can muster up in that thick head of yours is washed away in one fell swoop! Deep down, you’ll know it was the only way this one was going to end.
