Post by John Rabid on Feb 3, 2019 23:47:40 GMT -5
C̶H̵A̶P̸T̴E̶R̶ ̶1̶
PERFECT SKIN
"Throw her down!” yelled John Rabid.
So Bonnie Blue threw her down,
and Savage's blood splattered on the canvass
and on Blue's fists as Rabid trampled
Noble underfoot.
2 KINGS 9,33 (Fixed, Slam #442)
Slam #442, 1/21/19, The Pensacola Bay Center In Pensacola, Florida
PERFECT SKIN
"Throw her down!” yelled John Rabid.
So Bonnie Blue threw her down,
and Savage's blood splattered on the canvass
and on Blue's fists as Rabid trampled
Noble underfoot.
2 KINGS 9,33 (Fixed, Slam #442)
“Hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside.”
― William S. Burroughs
Before the arrival of a returning John Rabid, Noble Savage’s winning streak had perfect skin, it was unencumbered with blemishes and scars, flawless except for a minor beauty spot courtesy of her debut match with Eccentrix six months prior. Each week on Slam it seemed Brandi Noble’s career underwent a moisturising session of sorts, kept smooth at the hands of talent either below her ability line or bird-boxed by her inherent deviousness. Often the result appeared to break the bounds of reality. The number #29 entrant at WAR XVII stunned nineteen thousand inside Toronto’s Scotiabank Arena as they witnessed a Tomb Seeker Curb Stomp that bested three time WCF World Heavyweight title holder, Joey Flash to secure Noble’s place at the pinnacle of the ONE card. ONE arrives, Noble takes advantage of the matches fatal four-way rules to pickpocket a victory by pinning a dazed Alex Richards, a man three times her size as then champion, Bonnie Blue and former strap holder Odin Balfore can only watch on, both too far removed from the action, both too engrossed in the other's destruction to intercept. Brandi Noble/occasionally Savage, a hot topic stalker, Madonna throwback schizoid underdog, saddled with a mute dominatrix and an attention seeking mental disorder for company, pulls off the win of the century. Cut to six months later. Florida. As twelve thousand shocked fans witness:
*DING! DING! DING!*
John Rabid’s small, steely eyes remained diligently focused on the grimace that shined like a hateful beacon from the third row. Lady Abernathy’s visage was a twisted expression of absolute disdain, contorted into place by its own seething, boiling rage. Her leather blouse and corset were straining against her heavy gasps for air as The Serpent allowed a beaming smile to sneak across his narrow, focused features. A moment passed as John contemplated Brandi's leather shadow. Abernathy’s positioning was always safely away from the action, an old crone with a crow’s eye view of proceedings. Maybe she was the witch's familiar; a drone relaying her three sixty vision of the canvass back to Brandi’s mind. Brandi always seemed to have an extra pair of eyes, maybe Abernathy was simply this slab of human engineering that Noble utilised. Created though the occult to be her sixth sense.
Zach Davis: Timestopper! Bonnie has Noble trapped with that triangle choke in the center of the ring. The Cleric of Balance has no choice!
*DING! DING! DING!*
John Rabid’s small, steely eyes remained diligently focused on the grimace that shined like a hateful beacon from the third row. Lady Abernathy’s visage was a twisted expression of absolute disdain, contorted into place by its own seething, boiling rage. Her leather blouse and corset were straining against her heavy gasps for air as The Serpent allowed a beaming smile to sneak across his narrow, focused features. A moment passed as John contemplated Brandi's leather shadow. Abernathy’s positioning was always safely away from the action, an old crone with a crow’s eye view of proceedings. Maybe she was the witch's familiar; a drone relaying her three sixty vision of the canvass back to Brandi’s mind. Brandi always seemed to have an extra pair of eyes, maybe Abernathy was simply this slab of human engineering that Noble utilised. Created though the occult to be her sixth sense.
Or perhaps the reverse was true, maybe Lady Abernathy never spoke because she was already speaking, the Savage that made it’s home inside Brandi Noble’s mind. Relaying her thoughts though her familiar. John thought back to Noble’s promo’s, they were not the words of young woman in her late teens, but rather a wandering spirit looking for a reason to exist. One extract stood out among the skittering nonsense for The Ripper, from Noble’s first promo, “Back To Hollywood”
“I am the one with a higher purpose, I am the one with a more formidable foe in my future. I am the one who seeks to be slain by one whose might is worth my presence”
The situation seemed far too familiar for John, as if the ghost of Kevin Bishop had risen once more in final girl mode to plague the federation anew. Karma Bishop was Lady Abernathy, but with the added bonus/nausea of a tongue. While Brandi Noble, just like Kevin Bishop, had no choice but to play along and convince herself that she was still in control even though all the evidence pointed to the contrary. If that were the case, a moment of pity would probably be in order, but John had no interest in such pleasantries as he offered the hyperventilating Lady a sarcastic wave before joining Bonnie, the two bloodsuckers standing like vultures over their fallen, writhing prey. John peered down at the shocked and bewildered Brandi, she seemed confused and alone, almost as if she was a time lost soul set adrift by the move that bested her. Brandi’s eyes darting open to witness the dawn of a new unfamiliar future, a brighter dawn that observed Noble quizzically and found her wanting.
“You know, I think you might have broken her” observed Rabid.
“Not yet” sneered Bonnie though gritted fangs. “Oh, by the way. Here comes, Odin”
“Yes, impeccable timing, as always” The world slowed to a near stop as Rabid meshed honed intuition with blistering speed to exit the ring and retrieve a steel chair. All the while, keeping Abernathy’s disapproving headmistress in his field of vision. Rabid was intently searching for signifies that would prove or disprove one of his two theories. In the end though, all Rabid could see was an empty seat as Bonnie went to work, huge rights and lefts as The Cleric crumbled and the “Baseless God” faltered.
♠️♣️▲♣️♠️
As they walked back through the gorilla curtain, Rabid and Bonnie observed a sea of shocked faces at a loss, tech crews and nests of talent appeared confused, unsure as to what had just transpired as feet shuffled to remove themselves from the power couple’s way. While behind them, Odin was still barking his supposed superiority over the arena’s sound system. “How pathetic...”, Rabid thought as he felt Bonnie wrap an arm around his waist, her head nestled now into his shoulder, “...the old man’s voice has cracked as well as his spirit.” As they reached their dressing room, Bonnie leaned in and whispered into John’s ear, the taste of Odin’s blood still hot on her lips. “Odin’s faith in Noble is crushed. But he still wants to fight on” John’s eyes widened, the pupils turning black as he saw a slither of blood drip down the flat side of the cricket bat which he held casually over his right shoulder. “Too bad, then we’ll just have to crucify him like the rest”.
C̴H̴A̸P̷T̷E̵R̴ ̴2̵
BLUE IS THE WARMEST COLOUR
This promo is way better than whatever rambling, half assed lunacy she's gonna drop at the last minute - Bonnie Blue
From: @theserpent
To: Noble Savage
Hello, Miss Noble.
Are you afraid, yet? I imagine there’s a twinge of doubt now, just around the edges of your Histrionic personality disorder; where your perceived broken heart lives, still carrying that eight by nine of Bonnie Blue like an anchor to a life you never knew. Still shedding tears for a relationship that never existed. All your hopes and dreams of a bed warm with her love dashed because of me. I’ve only ever faced you once in a ring, but truth be told, I’ve beaten you twice already as it stands. I crushed your chance at happiness with a woman you never had any right to love. And before Odin’s eyes, I crushed your chance to win over his respect. Small, incremental moves on the chess board, Miss Noble. At least for me. For you? The cuts are deep with scares that may never heal.
When I make love to Bonnie, it’s intense and prolonged. I can hear my Beethoven playing while I climax with her, the blessed allegretto seven, only without a sense of melancholy, just joy. Pure unadulterated joy. There’s an “Ode to Joy”...but I’m a stickler for tradition. The truth is, I provide Bonnie something you can’t, happiness. She loves to hold me, occasionally she nibbles at my neck, which is cute. I never realised how tactile she was until we started to date. That’s because she was saving the best part of herself for me, she tells me. Of course, Bonnie’s had other relationships. But haven’t we all? Nothing wrong with shopping around, it’s just that with you? You were never even taken off the shelf, were you? And that drives you..more nuts I suppose. But it’s not like you don’t have history with someone, take you and Miss Abernathy for example, your “talkative” mentor. She’s a cold one, isn’t she? I bet the love is robotic and distant. Does she even warm up those fingers? My guess is no. No expression either, and she’s fully clothed.
I wonder, when you’re bumper-to-bumper with Abernathy’s android body, do you ever think back to that Hellimination match? How you and Bonnie were in synchronous orbit around each other. You proclaimed yourself “The Soul Witch” at the time. Your promos made a big deal out of it, like it was a betrothal on a bended knee. Maybe it was your way of tying the knot in front of the world. Too bad Bonnie never changed her Facebook status though, right? That’s this week by the way. “In relationship with: John Rabid”
And how does that affect you? I’ve been doing some reading up on your Histrionic personality disorder, here’s the bullet points:
- Habitually seeking love and approval...from Bonnie Blue.
- Unstable emotional states that appear superficial to others...like Bonnie Blue.
- Tendency to display exaggerated displays of emotion...when spurred by Bonnie Blue.
- Often sees relationships far more intimate than they actually are...that activate restraining orders filed by Bonnie Blue.
- Constantly seeking risk, sufferers will engage in dangerous behaviour...like facing John Rabid
You once accused Kurt Navarro of suffering from Histrionic personality disorder, which made no sense because he’s just a shabby detective paying off his debts the best he can. Where does any of the above fit in with his behaviour? The answer is: it doesn't. You were projecting your own psychosis randomly on others to defect your own deep rooted problems. But instead Noble, you just managed to highlight them. The woman doth protest too much it seems. And now that festering layer of your id is peeled back and we see the ugliness of you beneath. There’s a vileness to you that won’t shift tee shirts, Noble. A cruelty that I actually despise. But I wonder, when you aimed at Sammy’s child, where you actually aiming at yourself rather than Callum? Maybe Noble, you just haven’t been loved in life, maybe you’re the “mentally disabled bastard child” you're referring to? So many questions about your past, yet here you are, leaking information right under your own nose. It’s as if you’re your own worst enemy, determined to self harm. You look the type that haunts the reddit boards If I’m honest. Cutting yourself open for me to laugh at doesn’t surprise me.
You wanted to know why I was hanging around your twitter this week watching you suffer a Lord Raab inspired meltdown and ruining your reputation in one fell swoop? Simple. I enjoy seeing you struggle. Because it reminds me that there’s few in this company that hold a win over you, but that few includes me. Because I, unlike ninety eight percent of this roster, isn’t convinced that you’re anything more that a series of lucky breaks spurred on by a holistic medicine loving dom that probably spanks you silly on your off days for relatively small sparks of pleasure.
You have no love in your life, no anchor from the storm, no comforting voice to assure you that everything is going to be okay. Nothing. You’re just this shell to hang overly dramatic emotions on. perhaps more refined than a Jakob Lister, but no less ridiculous. You’re basically Oblivion with a thesaurus. But at least Oblivion was self referential, he knew how to take the piss out of himself. You? You believe in palm reading and tarot cards and signs and portents. You do, because Nancy Downs in The Craft believed in them. And let’s face it, that’s what you are. A straight up rip off of a character from a twenty plus year old movie. There’s no added complexity to you to get you over that hurdle. It staggers my mind that anyone can see you as anything more than a lawsuit waiting to happen, and yet here you are. Pushed to the top of the card. A WAR winner. A WCF World champion. You’ve used luck and a modicum of competence to win over the masses. Yet in the process you’ve taken accolades, and turned them into indictments on how far and fast this company has fallen.
You, Noble Savage, represent failure. Failure by this institution to nurture and reward actual creative ingenuity. Instead what we get is a woman with an occult edge trounce a roster then brag in the worst possible way. You lack class, Miss Noble. But after this Monday night? You won’t lack pain. You’ll have you fair share of agony this week, because you’re about to realise exactly who I am.
You once said that I hadn’t accomplished anything without Bonnie Blue by my side. Now, I know that was just you mouthing off because Bonnie prefers some meat on the bone, so to speak. But you really need to understand the gravity of your situation because you’re about to face an actual, genuine threat for a change. Not an old viking fart ready for Valhalla, elasticated pants and a pair of comfortable slippers. My name is John Rabid. I’m a multiple time Hellimination winner. I held the Television Title for nine long months. I held the trios title to such an imperious level that I simply ran out of competition. I defeated WAR winner Sidney J. Warrick, stole his title shot and claimed the WCF World Heavyweight title as my own. I did all of that, without Bonnie Blue by my side. A woman I love, but also a competitor who has never bested me inside the ring. You can call me the weak link in this relationship all you want. Because it just assures my victory all the more. Your ignorance lights up my sky like a beacon. I can pinpoint a dozen or more weaknesses in your game just by reading your twitter rants as you spaz off like James Wolf on Mescalin. You might be a high functioning autistic, but I’m still going to leave you a brain damaged mess by Tuesday morning. Don’t blame me, it’s the job. Just remember to turn up at South Carolina with your dental records. I want my confirmed kill.
Good. Day.
C̷H̴A̴P̸T̴E̶R̸ ̷3̸
AN OBSERVATION
AN OBSERVATION
Tape 002
I have their names now, the assailants that attacked my Chelsea home and murdered my wife and child. I watch the surveillance tapes on their lives as they engage in mundane behaviour. They talk on street corners. They laugh at parties. They’ve been well paid for their murders. I study their patterns with an abject distance. But it doesn’t last. I’m not that man anymore. The cold calculating machine, It feels once again. Bonnie Blue is part of my life now, an integral part that gives me hope. Love. And rage. That rage boils to the surface and threatens to consume me whole. Yet I temper it with the knowledge that when I walk into the lives of my family's killers. I’ll still be able to calmly introduce myself as John Rabid. The man that will slice them to pieces to send a message to Bathroy and the rest of the Covenant that I’m coming. And this time? I won’t be alone.
I have their names now, the assailants that attacked my Chelsea home and murdered my wife and child. I watch the surveillance tapes on their lives as they engage in mundane behaviour. They talk on street corners. They laugh at parties. They’ve been well paid for their murders. I study their patterns with an abject distance. But it doesn’t last. I’m not that man anymore. The cold calculating machine, It feels once again. Bonnie Blue is part of my life now, an integral part that gives me hope. Love. And rage. That rage boils to the surface and threatens to consume me whole. Yet I temper it with the knowledge that when I walk into the lives of my family's killers. I’ll still be able to calmly introduce myself as John Rabid. The man that will slice them to pieces to send a message to Bathroy and the rest of the Covenant that I’m coming. And this time? I won’t be alone.
...CLICK!
cut.
