Post by occulo on Jan 3, 2016 13:16:14 GMT -5
The sunlight created a thick beam through the window of Occulo’s hotel room. Particles of dust floated around aimlessly in the void, some glistening and reflecting the light through the camera lens. The light heated up a perfectly rectangular patch on the floor of the room, on to which steps Occulo’s feet. The camera slowly pans up to show his bruised and cut body in all its fragility. However as we get to the face, we see an absolutely glorious and megalomaniac smile on his face. His brilliant blue eyes illuminated to an aquatic colour as he gazed through the window. Just two nights ago he had slept in this room like a prisoner on his last night on death row….but last night he slept like Andy Dufresne did in his hammock on that beach.
He was at absolute peace. He reached forward and heaved the window up, allowing a stiff gust of fresh air to blast his warm body. The dust blew about in all directions. He stuck his head out the window, the smile still stuck to his face. The city below him was still very much encapsulated in the spirit of Christmas, and there was a fresh anticipation of the celebration of the New Year.
The New Year. 2016 was going to be Occulo aged 1. The autonomy that Occulo had longed for, for so long would be embraced and he would fight on his own accord and training regime. Every achievement would be his to celebrate and every mistake would be his to learn from. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the air before staring out in to the distance.
Occulo: I’m the King now, and all of this…is mine.
He laughed to himself and swung around back into the room.
We cut to two hands picking an egg up from a brown carton and cracking it once on the side of a frying pan, before releasing the embryo into the pan with a sizzle. We zoom out to reveal a rather tubby chef with thick black hair and an equally thick moustache. He turns around to face Occulo who is sat at the counter of a diner wearing a light blue shirt and slightly skinny red chinos.
Chef: How you like your egg?
Occulo: Sunny side up
He nods and grabs a smaller plate with a large, plump, and tender red steak resting on it and holds it over the pan with his chubby
thumb and index finger
Chef: Steak?
Occulo: Rare
He nods again and slaps it into the pan.
Chef: So, you day off today? Bet you’re exhausted after last night
His Italian twang to his accent made up for his inaccurate grammar and missed words
Occulo: You know, you’d think so. But I’ve never felt fresher.
Chef: Well, you ain’t as fresh as this, damn, this fillet is still breathing.
He quickly crop dusts it with salt and a few cracks of pepper and tongs it on to a plate with the egg sitting sunny side up on top. He places it infront of Occulo, who presses the steak slightly with the flat of his fork causing juice and bit of blood to sweat out.
Chef: Perfect eh?
Occulo: As always. Thanks Ray.
Ray smiles and looks at one of his staff. A woman with long dark hair and shiny red lips.
Chef: Hey Toni, black coffee for my boy huh?
Sarah: Comin’ up Ray
Occulo gives her a small wave as he stuffs his gob with a forkful of steak. Man, how good does food taste today.
We cut to a small silver digital radio sat on a bedside table with an auxiliary cable inserted into it, which we follow to a blue ipod
which is picked up by Occulo, who presses the play button. “In The Morning – Coral” plays and we see Occulo’s smile again. He opens his gym bag and takes out a small skipping rope, with which he does a few jumps until he just starts to breathe a bit heavier.
We cut, but with the music still playing, to Occulo jogging alongside the sunkissed river. He felt so much lighter, like a bird released from a cage. Every step he landed on the clean paving slabs felt like the first step of humanity, and every breath felt like the first one after holding your head underwater. The air was chilly, but it was balanced by the unseasonably warm touch of the sun. It was a beautiful balance...THE beautiful balance that Occulo longed for. He ran for a long time, not feeling a need or desire to stop.
He was absolutely happy, he was flying, he was…reborn.
There was only one thing that would make this morning even better.
We cut to Occulo and Bonnie in bed, with Occulo rolling off her heavily breathing, and orgasm ridden body. He stared up at the ceiling with a giggle, and soon with a warm smile as Bonnie snuggled into him, her head on his chest.
CUT
Joey Flash. Howard Black. Occulo.
Occulo read the card like it was some kind of puzzle written in a foreign language. 2016 had barely begun and he was already teaming up with a man he once called his mortal enemy. Joseph fucking Malignaggi had been through immeasurable heartache. The absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Dune’s transformation into a brutal horror story had disturbed Occulo, and he wasn’t going to stand and let him reduce a fragile Flash to dust. He felt comforted by the involvement of his old friend Howard Black, and was confident of the immense strength on paper of this team.
Dustin Beaver had beaten him. It happened. Perhaps Occulo had underestimated him. Perhaps everything coincided poorly. But he wasn’t going to stand and make excuses. He knew he lost fair and square and what else was there to say?
So he was suddenly thrust into another title match. The god damn Trios titles. Rabid, Kemp, Oblivion. Adams, Venables, Del Sol.
Occulo was back in the training room, buoyed by his luck of having two consecutive title matches. HE released the handles of the rowing machine and swivelled around, dowsing himself with a wet cloth and stretching his trembling arms.
Occulo: Happy New Year. For some of us. Last year ended in defeat for me but there’s no better time for me to bounce back and bring the gold home. I’m in by far the strongest team in this match and we’re going to assert our dominance. A team with Oblivion in it is winning fuck all. That’s where I’ll start. With that absolute waste of space.
Oblivion, we’ve met many times in the past and each time I’ve shown you just why you’re amounting to nothing with each passing day. The thing is with you Oblivion, after each defeat I inflicted upon you, you’ve always put your red and black filters on the camera and told us how “the real monster” is coming and how the WCF is going to suffer. Well we all seem pretty healthy to be honest. You’re a joke that’s like a fine wine. It’s getting better as time goes on. Are you happy plodding on through life as a mediocre person, a mediocre wrester? There just doesn’t seem to be any ambition or goal in what you say and do. You’ve never displayed any form or positive drive or point of being here. I can tell you the “monster” thing died a long time ago.
You’re a ship that has sailed Oblivion. You may have one day been a great galleon reducing other ships to splinters and matchsticks, but now you’re just a small, decaying dinghy loosely tied up, knocking against the side of the pier. The HMS Oblivion, decrepit and full of shit. So what are we going to see from you in this match Oblivion? What are you going to say and do that will make your team mates think “I’m so glad Oblivion is in our team, he is a real talisman to us”. What do you offer? You’re shit. Once again I’m going to beat you into the ground. Once again I’m going to show everyone that the demon is no more than a harmless, blind mouse that needs to be culled and incinerated.
I’m really looking forward to hearing your contrived “evil” bullshit again. Torture, torture, scream, scream, laugh, laugh, promo over. Nobody cares Oblivion, you’re finished. Fuck you.
Johnny Rabid, squire. How the devil is one? All good by the looks of it. Tag team champion and the whole world there to conquer with vast wealth and social status. But like Oblivion, you seek to destroy. You seek to manipulate and hold those who threaten you in the palm of your hand and crush them at a moment’s notice. What do you do it for Johnny? Who do you do it for? Do you do it for Emily and Dorian? Or do you perhaps see them as a solace, a constant mecca of forgiveness and love that reminds you that as long as they love you and look up to you, you have the freedom to do whatever it is you want?
Thing is Rabid, if you spend so much time with people you can manipulate, you must at some point worry that perhaps you aren’t as so high up on the food chain as you think. There’s probably a guy out there who is sucking on a cigar, delighted that you are doing just what he wants you to do. Dancing along to the beat his foot is tapping to. I don’t like you Rabid, I fail to garner any respect for you because the fact you can live a life of underhanded dealings and malevolence with a family who only want a loving father figure for the rock during hard times and stories at bed time. The reason I just resent you is because you remind me so painfully much…of him. You’ve become a discount John Mullins Senior. A man with a wonderful wealth of things money can’t buy but with a greater desire to hurt.
I see you almost like a ebeneezer figure Rabid. Fucking ghost of Christmas present Occulo visiting you after already condemning a hated antagonist to hell. If I could, I would take you by the hand in the bleak midwinter and lead you through Victoria’s capital showing you just how decimated Emily and Dorian have become. The streets of Chelsea snort derisively at the mere concept of them carrying “any spare change sir?”. Fuck, the homeless don’t carry chip and pin Rabid. Dorian, in all his humble and adorable craftsmanship he learned purely by himself has crafted a blanket of The Guardian newspaper, but even in his resourcefulness is so naively unaware of the irony. Emily will wonder just what she did wrong. If material wealth just wasn’t enough, if the material she handled was silk and leather instead of cotton and plastic would she be the one having the hot breath on her neck with the slight aroma of scotch? You’ll always believe Rabid that everything you do is for them, you’ll believe it but fuck, kids will believe in Santa and people will believe the moon landings were fake. Belief is futile without substance. I see you as someone who needs to be stopped Rabid. I see you as someone who I can foresee with a trail of pain and destruction in your wake. I feel this personal mission to end you, to cripple you and protect you- no, not you, your family from years of heartache. You’re doing well here, there’s no doubting that. You have a belt to show it and there’s no doubt your loved ones are kept fed and sheltered off of it. But success is addictive, and there will come a point where when it is hard to come by, only despair and desolation will follow. I’ll show you in the
ring Rabid, how just I feel about scum like you.
Kyle Kemp, I don’t believe we have been introduced. A young and rising star who too had everything a man could ask for…but again it’s not enough. It does become completely alien to me that a man for some reason seeks out with great risk, something that will bring him happiness that is greater than that already owned. It troubles me when we see the political cartoon fat men whose only troubles is wondering just how they are going to fit caviar and turkey legs in their mouth when it is already stuffed with a big fuck off phallic cigar. But what is worse Kyle, and Jonny for that matter, is men so young with everything in front of them seek poisonous wealth instead of healthy family and love. Do you know what I am looking forward to? I’m looking forward to you looking in the eyes of Joseph Malignaggi and looking at the burnt, battered and tortured soul of a man who would do anything in the world just hold his smiling, laughing son again in his arms. I look forward to your black oil hearts sink a bit and think long and fucking hard about who you are. Kyle, did you even win that bet that isolated you from everything you held dear?
Listen Kemp, just speaking about you has boiled up a rage in me. It tears me apart inside knowing that you stand there right as rain, happy as Larry whilst others have been sectioned and brought to to the very edge of death through the pain of loss. I have an absolutely overwhelming desire to physically beat you and allow our team’s collective pain to fracture your bones and cut in to your skin. Joey Flash knows more than anyone that Love is Pain, and my fucking God it is. But you just don’t know this do you? Is that why you and Rabid joined up? Because you thought if you associated yourself with a man as selfish, cold and downright pathetic as you then maybe it would anaesthetize the pain you deny as feeling. When in each other’s presence you tell yourself “yeah, I’ve done shit, but compared to this guy I have nothing to feel guilty about” well clap, clap, well done. That’s some modern day psychology case study shit right there. This match on Sunday is not just a titles match, in fact I have barely even considered that, this match is going to be a life changing experience for you. You’re going to be planes flying through a hell of a storm, and the lightning is going to be flashing all around you. We’re going to absolutely destroy you. I’m going to absolutely destroy you. I have such a strong and overwhelming motivation to break you and leave you staring at the lights on the ceiling. Kemp, I’m going to make you famous. I’m going to give you the fame you desired in your early baseball career. You’ll be famous as the man that got his leg broke by Occulo. You want your name in lights? Fuck, closest I can give you is your name illuminated by candles. #prayforkemp. Fuck Kemp. Kemp, Rabid and Oblivion are going to get fucking crippled, and it’s their own damn fault. Sorry People’s Choice, there’s a queue at the buffet table, all you can beat…and there’s gonna be nothing left for you. Sorry #notsorry.
He stands up and walks over to the window, which he opens and basks in the cool breeze which calms him down.
Spencer Adams. At last a name I can say without hatred coursing through my veins. The way this match has been booked is almost poetic. Spencer, I feel an air of solace in you. You’re a good guy with great wrestling ability and you deserve that belt around your waist. Like me I can imagine you can’t wait to rip Rabid, Kemp and Oblivion apart. I am looking forward to fighting you. We’re going to learn everything we need to know about each other in a few short minutes of competition. You see, when we lock horns it is going to be purely on the basis of seeing who is the better wrestler. I have no animosity towards you or any ill-feeling at all. A real rare gem here, that’s for sure. We’ll see which of us is the better wrestler, perhaps we’ll call it a precursor to a one on one battle. There is one thing I ask of you Spencer, let’s give those other dicks a fucking good beatdown. As far as I’m concerned those morons have their work cut out for them and deserve all the hell we are going to rain down on them.
So another new name on my long list of opponents here, Vic Venables. To be honest Vic you sound like an English brewery, but you have something that those cunts at Beachkrew could never even begin to find. You see Vic, you have resolve. Yeah, you were young and stupid, getting involved with people you had no business getting involved with and doing things you had no business doing. But hell, you’ve learned from it and here we are. You can call yourself a champion and ergo amongst the best in a professional business. But hell, we’re facing off in a war. So here we go. I praised you for you resolve, but this is the time to bring that all back. Bring back all that viciousness, leave the pleasantries at the door and bring the fucking anarchy. Rabid, Oblivion and Kemp are certainly going bring their own piss poor brand of it, so let’s see yours. A man with the intelligence to turn his life around has to have the intelligence of knowing when to bring the fear and bring the violence. You’re doing your brother proud and good fucking on you. If family can’t inspire us then nobody can. You need to keep going, you need to push further and look for the toughest challenges you can. Soon we’ll cross paths in the quest for the ultimate prize in this company and then, any amount of your Brother’s image floating around in your head won’t save you.
Teo Del Sol, your story is something quite remarkable. It astounds me, the polarity of personalities in this match. You broke through the darkness and rose up to gold in the WCF. But there is a lesson you must learn Teo Del Sol, people lose. People lose just once or people lose one after the other, in any walk of life. Running away from those who have defeated you only allows them to stand higher on your pedestal and cast a darker shadow over you. If you feel pathetic after a loss, then I cannot imagine how you felt when you got to your hiding spot. They remembered you as the man that lost, for which there is no shame, but to run away? You’re swiftly forgotten about and that’s it. But you didn’t remain in hiding, you came back. You swallowed your pride and returned, fighting harder than ever and winning a belt. Bravo Teo. So here we are. Locked in a war. Us, you and #Beachkrew. Unfortunately Teo, I’m going to have to test your resolve once again. Because you, along with Spencer and Venables, are going to lose this match. I’m starting this year with a resounding victory with Joseph and Howard. We’re going to take the belts from The People’s Choice and starting 2016 under the firm hand of The Sentinels. Don’t run away though Teo, the three of you are experts in your trade and I’d love nothing more than to defend these belts against you three alone, without the…mere distractions that are Beachkrew.
The Sentinels are rising taking 2016 by the throat. There are dark times ahead, that much is clear. I will approach Dune in my own time and let him know my feelings towards his actions. Until then, we have some gold to win, and I’m afraid Spencer, Venables and Teo Del Sol, you are Occulo’s Choice to go down.
He gets to his feet and stares at the mirror into his diamond eyes
This is my year.
CUT
We open back up to Occulo sat alone on a bench in a lush green, sunkissed park. There are a few walkers ambling around, some with dogs, some with kids. There is a pleasant cool air that licks upon the pages of the book in Occulo’s hands. A broad, evergreen tree provides a hole-ridden canopy over him. A man wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt saunters down the path and sits next to Occulo. He is a young man, around eighteen, nineteen. His light brown hair sits in light curls on his head and pours down to halfway down his neck. He sits back on the bench and stares up at the sky with his legs parted.
Boy: Fucking sucks don’t it?
Occulo gives him a concerned glance and then looks back down at his book
I mean how can a place fire you cos you have half a brain?
Occulo: …
Boy: Why can’t we all just do what we love to do, and get paid for it? Why is that so hard to do, but doing something you hate so easy?
Occulo slipped a leather bookmark into his book and closed it. He looked straight ahead and took a deep breath
Occulo: Good question
Boy: I mean, what do you do? Do you do something you love doing?
Occulo: Yes, I do
He turns to face Occulo
Boy: What do you do?
Occulo: I’m a professional wrestler
The boy stares at Occulo and gets to his feet off the bench
Boy: Fine. Fuck you. I just want to have a pleasant conversation after getting fucking FIRED and I just get it thrown in my face. Forget about it, jerk.
He starts to walk off and Occulo opens his book again with an eyeroll
Occulo: What is it you love doing?
The boy stops and turns around
Boy: Train robbery. See you can throw a joke at me and I can just as easily throw one back at you.
Occulo: I’ve given you an honest answer and an honest question. Not my problem you don’t believe me.
He keeps his eyes on his book and turns a page. The boy looks torn between storming off and sitting back down on the bench. He
does neither and sits down on the floor.
Boy: …
Occulo turns another page and just sits in silence. This carries on for a good fifteen minutes, the boy not wanting to cave. Occulo yawns and closes his book. He stands up and goes to walk away, but the boy lets out an annoyed sigh and gets to his feet.
Boy: How did you get in to that?
Occulo smiles and shakes his head. He carries on walking away, the boy following him slowly.
Hey don’t ignore me.
Occulo raises his eyebrows and shakes his head
Okay fine, I’m sorry.
Occulo stops and turns to face the boy
Occulo: Well, at first I was polite to those I wanted information from
The boy stared up at Occulo and approached him
Boy: Who are you?
Occulo: You can call me Occulo. That’s my wrestler name. I prefer it over my real name.
The boy raises one side of his lip at him
Boy: What’s wrong with your real name?
Occulo: Nothing wrong with the name, it’s who it is named after. Anyway that’s in the past. What’s your name?
Boy: Wilson. Ryan Wilson
Occulo: Nice to meet you Ryan. What can I do for you?
Ryan stared up at him, brimming with questions. He looked at Occulo’s expensive coat and professional hair cut and scowled.
Ryan: You know…it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in me asking.
Occulo: If you say so
Ryan: Sorry I wasted your time Occalo
Occulo: Occulo
Ryan scowled at him again
Ryan:…
Occulo: Occ…you…low
Ryan flips him the bird and storms off in the opposite direction. Occulo laughs and shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air as he does. He doesn’t go after him though, instead he simply turns around and walks away. Ryan sits back down on the bench and
watches Occulo walk away.
Ryan: Fucking wrestler. He’s actually a faggot.
He sits back and just stares into space, looking increasingly distracted. He rolls his eyes as he feels a vibration in his pocket. He takes his phone out and answers.
Ryan: Hey Mom…what?...yeah….yeah I got fired…hey it’s not my fault they’re stup…fine I’m coming home…Dad?...okay I’ll meet him from work…whatever…whatever….whatever…bye…bye…BYE!
He ends the call and looks back up towards Occulo who is now a dot in the distance.
If that faggot can do it…
He gets up and approaches a smaller kid kicking a soccer ball against a tree.
Ryan: Hey, you got a problem?
The kid turns around and looks around, then pointing a finger towards himself
Yeah. Fucking you. Where’s all your friends huh? Ain’t you got someone to kick a ball about with?
Kid: Uhm…yeah?
A number of larger kids have gathered behind Ryan, looking concerned for the kid. Ryan turns around and looks around at the boys, and then back at the kid who gives him a stern and piercing look, and then a friendly smile
Kid: You wanna play?
Ryan looks surprised at the kid’s unwarranted kindness. The kid gently throws the ball to Ryan’s feet. Ryan picks up the ball and punts it across the park and in to the river that runs alongside the park and through the city. The little kid turns around, tears welling up hin his eyes.
Kid: …why would you do that? We don’t have another ball…
Ryan: Yeah…well…you-
Ryan is hoisted into the air by the largest of the kids in a gentle reverse bear-hug. He carries him over to the river bank and throws him into the water. He lands with a splash and starts to splash around in the water. Occulo, who is carrying a cup of hot chocolate, is standing behind the kids with a smile on his face.
Occulo: Ball. Fetch. Come on. It’s not that deep there.
Ryan: Why the fuck did you do that?!?
Large kid: Get our ball you jerk!!
Occulo: Language Ryan! You need to learn some respect kid. He had every right to do that. Get that ball.
Ryan scowls as the kids stand side by side on the river bank, flanking Occulo. He doggy paddles over to the ball and returns to the river bank with it, handing it over to the kid.
Kid: Thanks, jerk
Occulo nods at him and turns his attention to a soggy, dripping Ryan as the kids run away with the ball
Occulo: I believe this is yours?
He reaches into his pocket and takes out Ryan’s dry phone. Ryan snatches it from him.
Ryan: You’re a total jerk, you know that? I could have drowned, I’m gonna kill that kid.
Occulo: If you say so. Look, do you need a lift home? I’ll happily drop you a taxi fare.
Ryan: No! I’m…I’m meeting my Dad from work in an hour.
Occulo: You’re going to have to change those wet clothes. Here, take this.
He hands Ryan the hot chocolate
Ryan: Th…thanks
Occulo: Come on, I’ll help you out.
Ryan frowns his eyebrows as Occulo walks across the park
Ryan: Why are you helping me?
Occulo: Because I don’t wanna see a kid die of pneumonia?
Ryan sinks his hands into his squelchy pockets and follows Occulo as we CUT
Ryan sits outside the mall, hot chocolate in hands, shivering in the cold as Occulo walks through the sliding doors and hands him a brown paper bag of clothes.
Occulo: There. Go get changed.
Ryan looks too shy to thank him and enters the bathroom at the entrance to the mall. He returns not long afterwards in his warm, dry clothes. Occulo however is nowhere to be seen. Ryan looks around for him but to no avail. He looks at the time on his phone and quickly jogs down the street to the bottom of a large office block. He approaches a man in an Armani suit, covered with a thick brown coat.
Ryan: Sorry I’m late Dad
The man turns around and smiles
Mr Wilson: It’s okay son. Your Mom told me what happened. Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get home, she’s been worrying about you.
Ryan looks at the ground and follows his Dad to his car.
The boy had piqued Occulo’s interest. He felt the need to help him, but has left the boy to seek it himself. He knows who he is, and even where he will be every Sunday night. Occulo would never say no to a person with drive and ambition, and he sure saw that in Ryan. He saw a phoenix residing in a shell of underachievement. He hoped that Ryan would seek him out. He hoped Ryan would find that thing he loves doing, whatever that is, and embrace it above all else. Whatever happened with his job, he had fought the power and stood up to the man. Great qualities. Important qualities. Qualities Occulo wish he had at Ryan’s age. Although Occulo and Ryan had barely met for longer than a couple of hours, he knew that the phoenix would soon rise, and a star would be born.
CUT
He was at absolute peace. He reached forward and heaved the window up, allowing a stiff gust of fresh air to blast his warm body. The dust blew about in all directions. He stuck his head out the window, the smile still stuck to his face. The city below him was still very much encapsulated in the spirit of Christmas, and there was a fresh anticipation of the celebration of the New Year.
The New Year. 2016 was going to be Occulo aged 1. The autonomy that Occulo had longed for, for so long would be embraced and he would fight on his own accord and training regime. Every achievement would be his to celebrate and every mistake would be his to learn from. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the air before staring out in to the distance.
Occulo: I’m the King now, and all of this…is mine.
He laughed to himself and swung around back into the room.
We cut to two hands picking an egg up from a brown carton and cracking it once on the side of a frying pan, before releasing the embryo into the pan with a sizzle. We zoom out to reveal a rather tubby chef with thick black hair and an equally thick moustache. He turns around to face Occulo who is sat at the counter of a diner wearing a light blue shirt and slightly skinny red chinos.
Chef: How you like your egg?
Occulo: Sunny side up
He nods and grabs a smaller plate with a large, plump, and tender red steak resting on it and holds it over the pan with his chubby
thumb and index finger
Chef: Steak?
Occulo: Rare
He nods again and slaps it into the pan.
Chef: So, you day off today? Bet you’re exhausted after last night
His Italian twang to his accent made up for his inaccurate grammar and missed words
Occulo: You know, you’d think so. But I’ve never felt fresher.
Chef: Well, you ain’t as fresh as this, damn, this fillet is still breathing.
He quickly crop dusts it with salt and a few cracks of pepper and tongs it on to a plate with the egg sitting sunny side up on top. He places it infront of Occulo, who presses the steak slightly with the flat of his fork causing juice and bit of blood to sweat out.
Chef: Perfect eh?
Occulo: As always. Thanks Ray.
Ray smiles and looks at one of his staff. A woman with long dark hair and shiny red lips.
Chef: Hey Toni, black coffee for my boy huh?
Sarah: Comin’ up Ray
Occulo gives her a small wave as he stuffs his gob with a forkful of steak. Man, how good does food taste today.
We cut to a small silver digital radio sat on a bedside table with an auxiliary cable inserted into it, which we follow to a blue ipod
which is picked up by Occulo, who presses the play button. “In The Morning – Coral” plays and we see Occulo’s smile again. He opens his gym bag and takes out a small skipping rope, with which he does a few jumps until he just starts to breathe a bit heavier.
We cut, but with the music still playing, to Occulo jogging alongside the sunkissed river. He felt so much lighter, like a bird released from a cage. Every step he landed on the clean paving slabs felt like the first step of humanity, and every breath felt like the first one after holding your head underwater. The air was chilly, but it was balanced by the unseasonably warm touch of the sun. It was a beautiful balance...THE beautiful balance that Occulo longed for. He ran for a long time, not feeling a need or desire to stop.
He was absolutely happy, he was flying, he was…reborn.
There was only one thing that would make this morning even better.
We cut to Occulo and Bonnie in bed, with Occulo rolling off her heavily breathing, and orgasm ridden body. He stared up at the ceiling with a giggle, and soon with a warm smile as Bonnie snuggled into him, her head on his chest.
CUT
Joey Flash. Howard Black. Occulo.
Occulo read the card like it was some kind of puzzle written in a foreign language. 2016 had barely begun and he was already teaming up with a man he once called his mortal enemy. Joseph fucking Malignaggi had been through immeasurable heartache. The absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Dune’s transformation into a brutal horror story had disturbed Occulo, and he wasn’t going to stand and let him reduce a fragile Flash to dust. He felt comforted by the involvement of his old friend Howard Black, and was confident of the immense strength on paper of this team.
Dustin Beaver had beaten him. It happened. Perhaps Occulo had underestimated him. Perhaps everything coincided poorly. But he wasn’t going to stand and make excuses. He knew he lost fair and square and what else was there to say?
So he was suddenly thrust into another title match. The god damn Trios titles. Rabid, Kemp, Oblivion. Adams, Venables, Del Sol.
Occulo was back in the training room, buoyed by his luck of having two consecutive title matches. HE released the handles of the rowing machine and swivelled around, dowsing himself with a wet cloth and stretching his trembling arms.
Occulo: Happy New Year. For some of us. Last year ended in defeat for me but there’s no better time for me to bounce back and bring the gold home. I’m in by far the strongest team in this match and we’re going to assert our dominance. A team with Oblivion in it is winning fuck all. That’s where I’ll start. With that absolute waste of space.
Oblivion, we’ve met many times in the past and each time I’ve shown you just why you’re amounting to nothing with each passing day. The thing is with you Oblivion, after each defeat I inflicted upon you, you’ve always put your red and black filters on the camera and told us how “the real monster” is coming and how the WCF is going to suffer. Well we all seem pretty healthy to be honest. You’re a joke that’s like a fine wine. It’s getting better as time goes on. Are you happy plodding on through life as a mediocre person, a mediocre wrester? There just doesn’t seem to be any ambition or goal in what you say and do. You’ve never displayed any form or positive drive or point of being here. I can tell you the “monster” thing died a long time ago.
You’re a ship that has sailed Oblivion. You may have one day been a great galleon reducing other ships to splinters and matchsticks, but now you’re just a small, decaying dinghy loosely tied up, knocking against the side of the pier. The HMS Oblivion, decrepit and full of shit. So what are we going to see from you in this match Oblivion? What are you going to say and do that will make your team mates think “I’m so glad Oblivion is in our team, he is a real talisman to us”. What do you offer? You’re shit. Once again I’m going to beat you into the ground. Once again I’m going to show everyone that the demon is no more than a harmless, blind mouse that needs to be culled and incinerated.
I’m really looking forward to hearing your contrived “evil” bullshit again. Torture, torture, scream, scream, laugh, laugh, promo over. Nobody cares Oblivion, you’re finished. Fuck you.
Johnny Rabid, squire. How the devil is one? All good by the looks of it. Tag team champion and the whole world there to conquer with vast wealth and social status. But like Oblivion, you seek to destroy. You seek to manipulate and hold those who threaten you in the palm of your hand and crush them at a moment’s notice. What do you do it for Johnny? Who do you do it for? Do you do it for Emily and Dorian? Or do you perhaps see them as a solace, a constant mecca of forgiveness and love that reminds you that as long as they love you and look up to you, you have the freedom to do whatever it is you want?
Thing is Rabid, if you spend so much time with people you can manipulate, you must at some point worry that perhaps you aren’t as so high up on the food chain as you think. There’s probably a guy out there who is sucking on a cigar, delighted that you are doing just what he wants you to do. Dancing along to the beat his foot is tapping to. I don’t like you Rabid, I fail to garner any respect for you because the fact you can live a life of underhanded dealings and malevolence with a family who only want a loving father figure for the rock during hard times and stories at bed time. The reason I just resent you is because you remind me so painfully much…of him. You’ve become a discount John Mullins Senior. A man with a wonderful wealth of things money can’t buy but with a greater desire to hurt.
I see you almost like a ebeneezer figure Rabid. Fucking ghost of Christmas present Occulo visiting you after already condemning a hated antagonist to hell. If I could, I would take you by the hand in the bleak midwinter and lead you through Victoria’s capital showing you just how decimated Emily and Dorian have become. The streets of Chelsea snort derisively at the mere concept of them carrying “any spare change sir?”. Fuck, the homeless don’t carry chip and pin Rabid. Dorian, in all his humble and adorable craftsmanship he learned purely by himself has crafted a blanket of The Guardian newspaper, but even in his resourcefulness is so naively unaware of the irony. Emily will wonder just what she did wrong. If material wealth just wasn’t enough, if the material she handled was silk and leather instead of cotton and plastic would she be the one having the hot breath on her neck with the slight aroma of scotch? You’ll always believe Rabid that everything you do is for them, you’ll believe it but fuck, kids will believe in Santa and people will believe the moon landings were fake. Belief is futile without substance. I see you as someone who needs to be stopped Rabid. I see you as someone who I can foresee with a trail of pain and destruction in your wake. I feel this personal mission to end you, to cripple you and protect you- no, not you, your family from years of heartache. You’re doing well here, there’s no doubting that. You have a belt to show it and there’s no doubt your loved ones are kept fed and sheltered off of it. But success is addictive, and there will come a point where when it is hard to come by, only despair and desolation will follow. I’ll show you in the
ring Rabid, how just I feel about scum like you.
Kyle Kemp, I don’t believe we have been introduced. A young and rising star who too had everything a man could ask for…but again it’s not enough. It does become completely alien to me that a man for some reason seeks out with great risk, something that will bring him happiness that is greater than that already owned. It troubles me when we see the political cartoon fat men whose only troubles is wondering just how they are going to fit caviar and turkey legs in their mouth when it is already stuffed with a big fuck off phallic cigar. But what is worse Kyle, and Jonny for that matter, is men so young with everything in front of them seek poisonous wealth instead of healthy family and love. Do you know what I am looking forward to? I’m looking forward to you looking in the eyes of Joseph Malignaggi and looking at the burnt, battered and tortured soul of a man who would do anything in the world just hold his smiling, laughing son again in his arms. I look forward to your black oil hearts sink a bit and think long and fucking hard about who you are. Kyle, did you even win that bet that isolated you from everything you held dear?
Listen Kemp, just speaking about you has boiled up a rage in me. It tears me apart inside knowing that you stand there right as rain, happy as Larry whilst others have been sectioned and brought to to the very edge of death through the pain of loss. I have an absolutely overwhelming desire to physically beat you and allow our team’s collective pain to fracture your bones and cut in to your skin. Joey Flash knows more than anyone that Love is Pain, and my fucking God it is. But you just don’t know this do you? Is that why you and Rabid joined up? Because you thought if you associated yourself with a man as selfish, cold and downright pathetic as you then maybe it would anaesthetize the pain you deny as feeling. When in each other’s presence you tell yourself “yeah, I’ve done shit, but compared to this guy I have nothing to feel guilty about” well clap, clap, well done. That’s some modern day psychology case study shit right there. This match on Sunday is not just a titles match, in fact I have barely even considered that, this match is going to be a life changing experience for you. You’re going to be planes flying through a hell of a storm, and the lightning is going to be flashing all around you. We’re going to absolutely destroy you. I’m going to absolutely destroy you. I have such a strong and overwhelming motivation to break you and leave you staring at the lights on the ceiling. Kemp, I’m going to make you famous. I’m going to give you the fame you desired in your early baseball career. You’ll be famous as the man that got his leg broke by Occulo. You want your name in lights? Fuck, closest I can give you is your name illuminated by candles. #prayforkemp. Fuck Kemp. Kemp, Rabid and Oblivion are going to get fucking crippled, and it’s their own damn fault. Sorry People’s Choice, there’s a queue at the buffet table, all you can beat…and there’s gonna be nothing left for you. Sorry #notsorry.
He stands up and walks over to the window, which he opens and basks in the cool breeze which calms him down.
Spencer Adams. At last a name I can say without hatred coursing through my veins. The way this match has been booked is almost poetic. Spencer, I feel an air of solace in you. You’re a good guy with great wrestling ability and you deserve that belt around your waist. Like me I can imagine you can’t wait to rip Rabid, Kemp and Oblivion apart. I am looking forward to fighting you. We’re going to learn everything we need to know about each other in a few short minutes of competition. You see, when we lock horns it is going to be purely on the basis of seeing who is the better wrestler. I have no animosity towards you or any ill-feeling at all. A real rare gem here, that’s for sure. We’ll see which of us is the better wrestler, perhaps we’ll call it a precursor to a one on one battle. There is one thing I ask of you Spencer, let’s give those other dicks a fucking good beatdown. As far as I’m concerned those morons have their work cut out for them and deserve all the hell we are going to rain down on them.
So another new name on my long list of opponents here, Vic Venables. To be honest Vic you sound like an English brewery, but you have something that those cunts at Beachkrew could never even begin to find. You see Vic, you have resolve. Yeah, you were young and stupid, getting involved with people you had no business getting involved with and doing things you had no business doing. But hell, you’ve learned from it and here we are. You can call yourself a champion and ergo amongst the best in a professional business. But hell, we’re facing off in a war. So here we go. I praised you for you resolve, but this is the time to bring that all back. Bring back all that viciousness, leave the pleasantries at the door and bring the fucking anarchy. Rabid, Oblivion and Kemp are certainly going bring their own piss poor brand of it, so let’s see yours. A man with the intelligence to turn his life around has to have the intelligence of knowing when to bring the fear and bring the violence. You’re doing your brother proud and good fucking on you. If family can’t inspire us then nobody can. You need to keep going, you need to push further and look for the toughest challenges you can. Soon we’ll cross paths in the quest for the ultimate prize in this company and then, any amount of your Brother’s image floating around in your head won’t save you.
Teo Del Sol, your story is something quite remarkable. It astounds me, the polarity of personalities in this match. You broke through the darkness and rose up to gold in the WCF. But there is a lesson you must learn Teo Del Sol, people lose. People lose just once or people lose one after the other, in any walk of life. Running away from those who have defeated you only allows them to stand higher on your pedestal and cast a darker shadow over you. If you feel pathetic after a loss, then I cannot imagine how you felt when you got to your hiding spot. They remembered you as the man that lost, for which there is no shame, but to run away? You’re swiftly forgotten about and that’s it. But you didn’t remain in hiding, you came back. You swallowed your pride and returned, fighting harder than ever and winning a belt. Bravo Teo. So here we are. Locked in a war. Us, you and #Beachkrew. Unfortunately Teo, I’m going to have to test your resolve once again. Because you, along with Spencer and Venables, are going to lose this match. I’m starting this year with a resounding victory with Joseph and Howard. We’re going to take the belts from The People’s Choice and starting 2016 under the firm hand of The Sentinels. Don’t run away though Teo, the three of you are experts in your trade and I’d love nothing more than to defend these belts against you three alone, without the…mere distractions that are Beachkrew.
The Sentinels are rising taking 2016 by the throat. There are dark times ahead, that much is clear. I will approach Dune in my own time and let him know my feelings towards his actions. Until then, we have some gold to win, and I’m afraid Spencer, Venables and Teo Del Sol, you are Occulo’s Choice to go down.
He gets to his feet and stares at the mirror into his diamond eyes
This is my year.
CUT
We open back up to Occulo sat alone on a bench in a lush green, sunkissed park. There are a few walkers ambling around, some with dogs, some with kids. There is a pleasant cool air that licks upon the pages of the book in Occulo’s hands. A broad, evergreen tree provides a hole-ridden canopy over him. A man wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt saunters down the path and sits next to Occulo. He is a young man, around eighteen, nineteen. His light brown hair sits in light curls on his head and pours down to halfway down his neck. He sits back on the bench and stares up at the sky with his legs parted.
Boy: Fucking sucks don’t it?
Occulo gives him a concerned glance and then looks back down at his book
I mean how can a place fire you cos you have half a brain?
Occulo: …
Boy: Why can’t we all just do what we love to do, and get paid for it? Why is that so hard to do, but doing something you hate so easy?
Occulo slipped a leather bookmark into his book and closed it. He looked straight ahead and took a deep breath
Occulo: Good question
Boy: I mean, what do you do? Do you do something you love doing?
Occulo: Yes, I do
He turns to face Occulo
Boy: What do you do?
Occulo: I’m a professional wrestler
The boy stares at Occulo and gets to his feet off the bench
Boy: Fine. Fuck you. I just want to have a pleasant conversation after getting fucking FIRED and I just get it thrown in my face. Forget about it, jerk.
He starts to walk off and Occulo opens his book again with an eyeroll
Occulo: What is it you love doing?
The boy stops and turns around
Boy: Train robbery. See you can throw a joke at me and I can just as easily throw one back at you.
Occulo: I’ve given you an honest answer and an honest question. Not my problem you don’t believe me.
He keeps his eyes on his book and turns a page. The boy looks torn between storming off and sitting back down on the bench. He
does neither and sits down on the floor.
Boy: …
Occulo turns another page and just sits in silence. This carries on for a good fifteen minutes, the boy not wanting to cave. Occulo yawns and closes his book. He stands up and goes to walk away, but the boy lets out an annoyed sigh and gets to his feet.
Boy: How did you get in to that?
Occulo smiles and shakes his head. He carries on walking away, the boy following him slowly.
Hey don’t ignore me.
Occulo raises his eyebrows and shakes his head
Okay fine, I’m sorry.
Occulo stops and turns to face the boy
Occulo: Well, at first I was polite to those I wanted information from
The boy stared up at Occulo and approached him
Boy: Who are you?
Occulo: You can call me Occulo. That’s my wrestler name. I prefer it over my real name.
The boy raises one side of his lip at him
Boy: What’s wrong with your real name?
Occulo: Nothing wrong with the name, it’s who it is named after. Anyway that’s in the past. What’s your name?
Boy: Wilson. Ryan Wilson
Occulo: Nice to meet you Ryan. What can I do for you?
Ryan stared up at him, brimming with questions. He looked at Occulo’s expensive coat and professional hair cut and scowled.
Ryan: You know…it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in me asking.
Occulo: If you say so
Ryan: Sorry I wasted your time Occalo
Occulo: Occulo
Ryan scowled at him again
Ryan:…
Occulo: Occ…you…low
Ryan flips him the bird and storms off in the opposite direction. Occulo laughs and shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air as he does. He doesn’t go after him though, instead he simply turns around and walks away. Ryan sits back down on the bench and
watches Occulo walk away.
Ryan: Fucking wrestler. He’s actually a faggot.
He sits back and just stares into space, looking increasingly distracted. He rolls his eyes as he feels a vibration in his pocket. He takes his phone out and answers.
Ryan: Hey Mom…what?...yeah….yeah I got fired…hey it’s not my fault they’re stup…fine I’m coming home…Dad?...okay I’ll meet him from work…whatever…whatever….whatever…bye…bye…BYE!
He ends the call and looks back up towards Occulo who is now a dot in the distance.
If that faggot can do it…
He gets up and approaches a smaller kid kicking a soccer ball against a tree.
Ryan: Hey, you got a problem?
The kid turns around and looks around, then pointing a finger towards himself
Yeah. Fucking you. Where’s all your friends huh? Ain’t you got someone to kick a ball about with?
Kid: Uhm…yeah?
A number of larger kids have gathered behind Ryan, looking concerned for the kid. Ryan turns around and looks around at the boys, and then back at the kid who gives him a stern and piercing look, and then a friendly smile
Kid: You wanna play?
Ryan looks surprised at the kid’s unwarranted kindness. The kid gently throws the ball to Ryan’s feet. Ryan picks up the ball and punts it across the park and in to the river that runs alongside the park and through the city. The little kid turns around, tears welling up hin his eyes.
Kid: …why would you do that? We don’t have another ball…
Ryan: Yeah…well…you-
Ryan is hoisted into the air by the largest of the kids in a gentle reverse bear-hug. He carries him over to the river bank and throws him into the water. He lands with a splash and starts to splash around in the water. Occulo, who is carrying a cup of hot chocolate, is standing behind the kids with a smile on his face.
Occulo: Ball. Fetch. Come on. It’s not that deep there.
Ryan: Why the fuck did you do that?!?
Large kid: Get our ball you jerk!!
Occulo: Language Ryan! You need to learn some respect kid. He had every right to do that. Get that ball.
Ryan scowls as the kids stand side by side on the river bank, flanking Occulo. He doggy paddles over to the ball and returns to the river bank with it, handing it over to the kid.
Kid: Thanks, jerk
Occulo nods at him and turns his attention to a soggy, dripping Ryan as the kids run away with the ball
Occulo: I believe this is yours?
He reaches into his pocket and takes out Ryan’s dry phone. Ryan snatches it from him.
Ryan: You’re a total jerk, you know that? I could have drowned, I’m gonna kill that kid.
Occulo: If you say so. Look, do you need a lift home? I’ll happily drop you a taxi fare.
Ryan: No! I’m…I’m meeting my Dad from work in an hour.
Occulo: You’re going to have to change those wet clothes. Here, take this.
He hands Ryan the hot chocolate
Ryan: Th…thanks
Occulo: Come on, I’ll help you out.
Ryan frowns his eyebrows as Occulo walks across the park
Ryan: Why are you helping me?
Occulo: Because I don’t wanna see a kid die of pneumonia?
Ryan sinks his hands into his squelchy pockets and follows Occulo as we CUT
Ryan sits outside the mall, hot chocolate in hands, shivering in the cold as Occulo walks through the sliding doors and hands him a brown paper bag of clothes.
Occulo: There. Go get changed.
Ryan looks too shy to thank him and enters the bathroom at the entrance to the mall. He returns not long afterwards in his warm, dry clothes. Occulo however is nowhere to be seen. Ryan looks around for him but to no avail. He looks at the time on his phone and quickly jogs down the street to the bottom of a large office block. He approaches a man in an Armani suit, covered with a thick brown coat.
Ryan: Sorry I’m late Dad
The man turns around and smiles
Mr Wilson: It’s okay son. Your Mom told me what happened. Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get home, she’s been worrying about you.
Ryan looks at the ground and follows his Dad to his car.
The boy had piqued Occulo’s interest. He felt the need to help him, but has left the boy to seek it himself. He knows who he is, and even where he will be every Sunday night. Occulo would never say no to a person with drive and ambition, and he sure saw that in Ryan. He saw a phoenix residing in a shell of underachievement. He hoped that Ryan would seek him out. He hoped Ryan would find that thing he loves doing, whatever that is, and embrace it above all else. Whatever happened with his job, he had fought the power and stood up to the man. Great qualities. Important qualities. Qualities Occulo wish he had at Ryan’s age. Although Occulo and Ryan had barely met for longer than a couple of hours, he knew that the phoenix would soon rise, and a star would be born.
CUT
