Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2014 23:29:11 GMT -5
Birchwood RV Park - Durham, NC - 3:17am
A large black RV rolls into the RV park. The sight of a two-story luxury motorhome pulling into the small park attracts lot of attention, especially from the perennials, the retirees who call Birchwood RV Park home year-round. A uniformed driver steps out of the motorhome and walks into the little hut at the front of the park. After a few minutes, he comes out of the hut, steps back in the home, and drives to a back secluded lot. He parks the home, gets out to set u the water and sewer hookups, detaches the home from his cab and drives away with the cab. The home comes alive with whirring motors as the home seemingly grows to three times its size. A pentagram flag unfurls, hiding the hitch system. A man in tight black jeans, back dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist, black leather jacket and black leather hat steps out of the motorhome, looks up at the moon with his arms outstretched, before turning to the camera.
Lupus Onyx: About three years ago, I walked away from my mistress. It was a hard breakup, but a necessary one. I felt I was putting more into the relationship than I was getting out, so I made the decision to leave. When I left, I took the opportunity to ask the questions I tried to avoid asking. Was I done? Was it me? Did I not give what needed to be given? Did I even have anything to give? Then I found the source of all the questions.
Guilt.
Not guilt for what I had done. No, more convoluted than that. Guilt for feeling like I had to be 'good' while being a 'bad' guy. The feeling that something, or somebody, had a level of control over me.
I couldn't live like that any longer. NOBODY should have to live like that.
The righteous will say I sold my soul. I gave my life to their representation of the Devil. They would be right, but not the way they think. You see, I seeked out God, and all I found was a monster. A monster who rules over his followers with fear.
So I asked a question of my own. If Man follows its own creation, aka their god, cannot I do the same? Cannot I follow my own god, my own creation?
What I found was interesting.
Onyx walks around the camp, lighting a cigarette.
Lupus Onyx: Allow me to set the record straight on a few misconceptions I'm sure you all will have in time. I have been on the receiving end of many accolades in my career. I have made and spent fortunes and yet I can still live very comfortably. Which leads to the question of why. Why, after stepping away from the business years ago would I come back? Why, at my age, would I risk my health taking on new opponents and new challenges?
Why not?
I repeat this like a mantra, but it really is a tenet to my being. Indulgence over abstinence. Why hold myself back when I know I can still hold my own? Why hold myself back when I know there will be sweet, sweet pain? While my other opponents might look at this match as a weakly put-together match, I see it as the exhibition it is meant to be. How else can I prove my dominance than taking on FOUR sheep at once? And what a wide array of sheep we have.
Onyx puts out his cigarette, inviting the cameraman into the motorhome. Inside would dwarf most New York City apartments, both in size and amenities. Built in shades of gray, black and purple, pentagrams and wolves everywhere, Onyx sits in a captain's chair.
Lupus Onyx: We have the young lamb, ValenTEEN. I know what your real name is, little girl, but in my eyes you are nothing but a child. A child who has a chip on her shoulder because the big, bad wrestlers treated you like crap. I hate a whiny kid with daddy issues, and you have had... many daddies. ValenTEEN, I am going to take great pleasure in making you scream, making you squirm and thrash, and after I have spent you, I will lay you down, and while I'm known to last hours, I'll only need to stay on you for... 3 seconds.
Speaking of trying to stay on for a few seconds, let me turn my attention to Miss Betsy, or as she seems to call herself, Rita Morbid. Girl, you would be a great fit in the Ministry if you didn't have to stand face-to-face with the man you'd call Master. You have certain... assets that would be beneficial to the cause. It almost pains me to look down at you, though the view is spectacular. Rita, I'm sure if you want it bad enough, you could have a great career here in WCF... starting AFTER this match. You see, this match, you are but a pawn. A means to an end. I'll bring my riding crop and a mouth bit for you, you know, just in case. You might even learn to like it.
Onyx gets up, walks to a cupboard, pulls out a glass, gets some ice from the dispenser, opens another cupboard, grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels and pours himself a glass.
Lupus Onyx: Now, I'll turn my attention to the bitch in the fight, little Justin Turner. Seems you've had a ride in WCF in the past, how did that work out for you? 5-12 record? I'm not going to throw you under the bus for trying, it's just that perhaps your perceived talents just don't measure up to your ACTUAL talents. There is no shame in that, Justin. One cannot know his limitations until he meets them. It's whether he learns to pass them, and that is where you seem to have stopped learning. Perhaps you haven't, perhaps that is why you decided to go away. Perhaps you went looking internally for the answers for why you sucked. I'll tell you the answer, Justin. You see, high risk doesn't always mean high reward. Usually, it just means high stupidity. You try to overcompensate for your lack of stature by flying around a wrestling ring, but high flyers aren't built to last. You fizzle out, you crash and burn. Turner, you will go airborne at Slam, because I am going to launch you into the crowd like a javelin. And when you're lying there on your back in the middle of section 203 trying to remember your name, I might just bring little Jenny on up here. Show her what she's been missing all her life being stuck with a sawed-off little man-child.
At the mention of Jennifer, a door opens at the back of the motorhome and out walks a curvy brunette dressed in a small black lace bra and panties set.
Lupus Onyx: Meet Regina, one of the first followers, and the only one to follow the Ministry on the bus. Yes, that part I left out. See, when I decided to go on my journey to follow my own god, my own creation, I found Regina at her worst. Strung out on everything, wanting to die. I gave her a safe haven, I gave her help when she needed it. In return, she turned herself over to me completely. She is free to indulge her desires, as am I. She is mine as I am hers, but we are not owned by the other. That honesty between us, that mutual respect, not having any guilt to pursue our desires, that was what I was looking for. Let's let the eye candy go and return to the match, shall we?
Serbia, or is it Fluffy? I was saving you for last, because I thought you would be my favorite thing on the plate. Everyone does it. They get a plate of food, they eat the least appealing first to get rid of it quickly so that the last flavor in their mouths is the tastiest. I thought you would have been the tastiest flavor, instead I heard what you had to say, and I will admit, you were bland. I didn't expect you to be as jaded as you are. To think of me as... I believe you said I was like a man in a bar using cheap pick-up lines. I expected better of you, you disappoint me. I was even entertaining the possibility of the two of us, similar goals, similar wants, similar hunger... and you went and pulled the rookie card. In fact, you even sound a little like ValenTEEN. Bad man, go away, I can take care of myself. I hope you can, because this match is no disqualification.
NO... DISQUALIFICATION.
I can do... whatever I want.
Whatever comes into this sick, twisted brain of mine.
Onyx gets up and heads upstairs (I did tell you it was a two-story motorhome), which looks like a makeshift church and weapons dispensary.
Lupus Onyx: The powers that be put the three of you in the ring against the Big Bad himself. I hear the words hardcore, gothic, queen of pain being thrown around, and while I'm sure that may help you sell a few t-shirts, I guarantee NONE of you have explored the depths of pain and suffering that I have... and enjoy. My scars have scars from the wars I've waged and fought in. I've left my mark on every opponent I've faced, and I guarantee you will be no different.
I have removed all sense of guilt from my existence, emancipated myself from the secular rules of society. Everyone hesitates when they know they are going to hurt another, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar, lying to everyone and themselves. I used to as well, but I found my path to the purest truth. And the truth is... I'm both God and Man. Indisputable, unflinching, and unbeatable. I am not YOUR god, for he doesn't exist. Man created him, and this man doesn't care what another man felt was necessary.
Before I end this chapter, I want to direct a few words to our owner, Miss Sarah Fleshight. Sarah, I don't call you Fleshlight as a comedic little play on your name, but because the two of you serve the same purpose. You're nothing but a cum collector who shouldn't be running her mouth without swallowing first. I plan to use your words and your actions as my motivation. PLEASE keep thinking I have no worth to you and your company, as I will be the one laughing when every one of your friends and allies fall to the wayside as I strut my way up the ladder. I guarantee I will use you like I would your namesake.
LILITH... you deserve SO much more. The invite has been laid.
A large black RV rolls into the RV park. The sight of a two-story luxury motorhome pulling into the small park attracts lot of attention, especially from the perennials, the retirees who call Birchwood RV Park home year-round. A uniformed driver steps out of the motorhome and walks into the little hut at the front of the park. After a few minutes, he comes out of the hut, steps back in the home, and drives to a back secluded lot. He parks the home, gets out to set u the water and sewer hookups, detaches the home from his cab and drives away with the cab. The home comes alive with whirring motors as the home seemingly grows to three times its size. A pentagram flag unfurls, hiding the hitch system. A man in tight black jeans, back dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist, black leather jacket and black leather hat steps out of the motorhome, looks up at the moon with his arms outstretched, before turning to the camera.
Lupus Onyx: About three years ago, I walked away from my mistress. It was a hard breakup, but a necessary one. I felt I was putting more into the relationship than I was getting out, so I made the decision to leave. When I left, I took the opportunity to ask the questions I tried to avoid asking. Was I done? Was it me? Did I not give what needed to be given? Did I even have anything to give? Then I found the source of all the questions.
Guilt.
Not guilt for what I had done. No, more convoluted than that. Guilt for feeling like I had to be 'good' while being a 'bad' guy. The feeling that something, or somebody, had a level of control over me.
I couldn't live like that any longer. NOBODY should have to live like that.
The righteous will say I sold my soul. I gave my life to their representation of the Devil. They would be right, but not the way they think. You see, I seeked out God, and all I found was a monster. A monster who rules over his followers with fear.
So I asked a question of my own. If Man follows its own creation, aka their god, cannot I do the same? Cannot I follow my own god, my own creation?
What I found was interesting.
Onyx walks around the camp, lighting a cigarette.
Lupus Onyx: Allow me to set the record straight on a few misconceptions I'm sure you all will have in time. I have been on the receiving end of many accolades in my career. I have made and spent fortunes and yet I can still live very comfortably. Which leads to the question of why. Why, after stepping away from the business years ago would I come back? Why, at my age, would I risk my health taking on new opponents and new challenges?
Why not?
I repeat this like a mantra, but it really is a tenet to my being. Indulgence over abstinence. Why hold myself back when I know I can still hold my own? Why hold myself back when I know there will be sweet, sweet pain? While my other opponents might look at this match as a weakly put-together match, I see it as the exhibition it is meant to be. How else can I prove my dominance than taking on FOUR sheep at once? And what a wide array of sheep we have.
Onyx puts out his cigarette, inviting the cameraman into the motorhome. Inside would dwarf most New York City apartments, both in size and amenities. Built in shades of gray, black and purple, pentagrams and wolves everywhere, Onyx sits in a captain's chair.
Lupus Onyx: We have the young lamb, ValenTEEN. I know what your real name is, little girl, but in my eyes you are nothing but a child. A child who has a chip on her shoulder because the big, bad wrestlers treated you like crap. I hate a whiny kid with daddy issues, and you have had... many daddies. ValenTEEN, I am going to take great pleasure in making you scream, making you squirm and thrash, and after I have spent you, I will lay you down, and while I'm known to last hours, I'll only need to stay on you for... 3 seconds.
Speaking of trying to stay on for a few seconds, let me turn my attention to Miss Betsy, or as she seems to call herself, Rita Morbid. Girl, you would be a great fit in the Ministry if you didn't have to stand face-to-face with the man you'd call Master. You have certain... assets that would be beneficial to the cause. It almost pains me to look down at you, though the view is spectacular. Rita, I'm sure if you want it bad enough, you could have a great career here in WCF... starting AFTER this match. You see, this match, you are but a pawn. A means to an end. I'll bring my riding crop and a mouth bit for you, you know, just in case. You might even learn to like it.
Onyx gets up, walks to a cupboard, pulls out a glass, gets some ice from the dispenser, opens another cupboard, grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels and pours himself a glass.
Lupus Onyx: Now, I'll turn my attention to the bitch in the fight, little Justin Turner. Seems you've had a ride in WCF in the past, how did that work out for you? 5-12 record? I'm not going to throw you under the bus for trying, it's just that perhaps your perceived talents just don't measure up to your ACTUAL talents. There is no shame in that, Justin. One cannot know his limitations until he meets them. It's whether he learns to pass them, and that is where you seem to have stopped learning. Perhaps you haven't, perhaps that is why you decided to go away. Perhaps you went looking internally for the answers for why you sucked. I'll tell you the answer, Justin. You see, high risk doesn't always mean high reward. Usually, it just means high stupidity. You try to overcompensate for your lack of stature by flying around a wrestling ring, but high flyers aren't built to last. You fizzle out, you crash and burn. Turner, you will go airborne at Slam, because I am going to launch you into the crowd like a javelin. And when you're lying there on your back in the middle of section 203 trying to remember your name, I might just bring little Jenny on up here. Show her what she's been missing all her life being stuck with a sawed-off little man-child.
At the mention of Jennifer, a door opens at the back of the motorhome and out walks a curvy brunette dressed in a small black lace bra and panties set.
Lupus Onyx: Meet Regina, one of the first followers, and the only one to follow the Ministry on the bus. Yes, that part I left out. See, when I decided to go on my journey to follow my own god, my own creation, I found Regina at her worst. Strung out on everything, wanting to die. I gave her a safe haven, I gave her help when she needed it. In return, she turned herself over to me completely. She is free to indulge her desires, as am I. She is mine as I am hers, but we are not owned by the other. That honesty between us, that mutual respect, not having any guilt to pursue our desires, that was what I was looking for. Let's let the eye candy go and return to the match, shall we?
Serbia, or is it Fluffy? I was saving you for last, because I thought you would be my favorite thing on the plate. Everyone does it. They get a plate of food, they eat the least appealing first to get rid of it quickly so that the last flavor in their mouths is the tastiest. I thought you would have been the tastiest flavor, instead I heard what you had to say, and I will admit, you were bland. I didn't expect you to be as jaded as you are. To think of me as... I believe you said I was like a man in a bar using cheap pick-up lines. I expected better of you, you disappoint me. I was even entertaining the possibility of the two of us, similar goals, similar wants, similar hunger... and you went and pulled the rookie card. In fact, you even sound a little like ValenTEEN. Bad man, go away, I can take care of myself. I hope you can, because this match is no disqualification.
NO... DISQUALIFICATION.
I can do... whatever I want.
Whatever comes into this sick, twisted brain of mine.
Onyx gets up and heads upstairs (I did tell you it was a two-story motorhome), which looks like a makeshift church and weapons dispensary.
Lupus Onyx: The powers that be put the three of you in the ring against the Big Bad himself. I hear the words hardcore, gothic, queen of pain being thrown around, and while I'm sure that may help you sell a few t-shirts, I guarantee NONE of you have explored the depths of pain and suffering that I have... and enjoy. My scars have scars from the wars I've waged and fought in. I've left my mark on every opponent I've faced, and I guarantee you will be no different.
I have removed all sense of guilt from my existence, emancipated myself from the secular rules of society. Everyone hesitates when they know they are going to hurt another, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar, lying to everyone and themselves. I used to as well, but I found my path to the purest truth. And the truth is... I'm both God and Man. Indisputable, unflinching, and unbeatable. I am not YOUR god, for he doesn't exist. Man created him, and this man doesn't care what another man felt was necessary.
Before I end this chapter, I want to direct a few words to our owner, Miss Sarah Fleshight. Sarah, I don't call you Fleshlight as a comedic little play on your name, but because the two of you serve the same purpose. You're nothing but a cum collector who shouldn't be running her mouth without swallowing first. I plan to use your words and your actions as my motivation. PLEASE keep thinking I have no worth to you and your company, as I will be the one laughing when every one of your friends and allies fall to the wayside as I strut my way up the ladder. I guarantee I will use you like I would your namesake.
LILITH... you deserve SO much more. The invite has been laid.
