Post by Dex on Jul 25, 2016 12:35:39 GMT -5
The Queen is Dead I
A Dex RP.
I bent the knee and bowed my head to a woman. I prayed to some existential being that I had long forgotten, I loosely lipped my hail-marys, my our fathers, and the graces we'd chosen to forget to speak. But the strike of metal against my bones sent waves of torment that struck all throughout my body. Each swing came down crashing and destroying everything it had hit, as if giants fell from mountaintops.
But I can't remember it all. Everything about it turned into a figment of ill-remembered images that casually appeared at the forefront of my hospital bed, upon seeing anyone at all. There's only one woman on my mind, and it's the daughter of a b*tch that took my hand, my silence, and my toothy smile for granted. Penny Shannon will pay, she will beg for my hand in mercy. She will bow before me, and ONLY after will I happily destroy everything she holds dear. But before then, I'll slay her from the inside, and make sure she never learns to feel alive again. What's physical, my dear, can always return. What's mental, can never be forgiven.
I wish I had it in me to forgive. Too often we take pride in our fictitious belief of the perfect man. We know him by heart, and just with the glimmer of his pearly white teeth we know who he is and everything he's stood for in his life. I can't see how he can exist in a world full of no's. A world that turns and shifts based on hate and the spilling of blood alone. Time only shifts once men have died and perished; otherwise things stay the same until we've become nothing but dust scattered along our favorite childhood spots. No matter how many times I have seen the weakness in his ways, I've always sought to be that man no matter how impossible it seemed once your eyes have opened.
But I cannot forgive Penny Shannon for what she did. Most of all. I can't forgive myself for being weak enough for her to come after me. The dream of glitz and glamor, belts and fans fawning, seems further away with each passing second. Another obstacle, another man to be slain; but how many times must I or another man perish before the taste of greatness becomes more apparent?
Beeps don't matter. No matter how much they tell you they do, they don't. Doctors talk and talk, and try to sell you on their magic potions, but soon you just realize that the stuff they preach is more invalid than the B.S people claim in the ring. It's happened. I've spent my time in a hospital room, eyes peering towards the ceiling light, hearing the wheels of chairs scratching against ill-waxed floors.
They haven't mattered as much as they have in the past. Maybe because my mind is solely set on revenge, that I want nothing but to taste the sweet lingering treat of victory. I want to see Penny bow before me, curtsey before she does it; her mascara falling down her face due to the tears of regret she wish she shed. Because I am the closest thing to the devil that she will ever know. I can be bad. Very bad Penny Shannon, and all I've ever tried to do is remove myself from the past that was laden in badness. Some things just can't change. You'll always be daddy's favorite little child. And yet you're still blind to face the simple fact that when you spit in the eye of the giant, you will fall, much harder.
~But I can't remember it all. Everything about it turned into a figment of ill-remembered images that casually appeared at the forefront of my hospital bed, upon seeing anyone at all. There's only one woman on my mind, and it's the daughter of a b*tch that took my hand, my silence, and my toothy smile for granted. Penny Shannon will pay, she will beg for my hand in mercy. She will bow before me, and ONLY after will I happily destroy everything she holds dear. But before then, I'll slay her from the inside, and make sure she never learns to feel alive again. What's physical, my dear, can always return. What's mental, can never be forgiven.
I wish I had it in me to forgive. Too often we take pride in our fictitious belief of the perfect man. We know him by heart, and just with the glimmer of his pearly white teeth we know who he is and everything he's stood for in his life. I can't see how he can exist in a world full of no's. A world that turns and shifts based on hate and the spilling of blood alone. Time only shifts once men have died and perished; otherwise things stay the same until we've become nothing but dust scattered along our favorite childhood spots. No matter how many times I have seen the weakness in his ways, I've always sought to be that man no matter how impossible it seemed once your eyes have opened.
But I cannot forgive Penny Shannon for what she did. Most of all. I can't forgive myself for being weak enough for her to come after me. The dream of glitz and glamor, belts and fans fawning, seems further away with each passing second. Another obstacle, another man to be slain; but how many times must I or another man perish before the taste of greatness becomes more apparent?
Beeps don't matter. No matter how much they tell you they do, they don't. Doctors talk and talk, and try to sell you on their magic potions, but soon you just realize that the stuff they preach is more invalid than the B.S people claim in the ring. It's happened. I've spent my time in a hospital room, eyes peering towards the ceiling light, hearing the wheels of chairs scratching against ill-waxed floors.
They haven't mattered as much as they have in the past. Maybe because my mind is solely set on revenge, that I want nothing but to taste the sweet lingering treat of victory. I want to see Penny bow before me, curtsey before she does it; her mascara falling down her face due to the tears of regret she wish she shed. Because I am the closest thing to the devil that she will ever know. I can be bad. Very bad Penny Shannon, and all I've ever tried to do is remove myself from the past that was laden in badness. Some things just can't change. You'll always be daddy's favorite little child. And yet you're still blind to face the simple fact that when you spit in the eye of the giant, you will fall, much harder.
~KV~
Kristana hadn't been able to properly swallow the massive pill that had been forced upon her. She watched every second of the beating, and with each swing she wished to be transported to the starry nights when they'd take turns swigging bottles as if they were nothing. That seemed to be a distant memory, that she had wished she had been able to forget. But she simply hadn't been able to. She knew deep down inside, that if she could walk away and forget that Dexter Brett had ever existed, that she certainly would. She was in too deep. She could no longer stand behind and tread lightly.
"Let me in there!" She screamed at the man who had just closed the ambulance doors. The red and blue lights flickering in the ill-lit backstage area.
"Mam I'm not sur.." He walked towards her to try and validate her backstage pass, to see who she was, but Kristina knew this was no time for validation.
"Let me f*ckin' in there i'm his wife!" Marriage in secret? Nope. Just manipulation. She pushed him back and opened the doors to the ambulance, to which she invited herself along his side. The attendants stared at her with their eyes peering out of their heads, deers caught in the headlights.
"What the f*ck is wrong with him!?! Is he okay!?!"
"Mam, he's severely injured. You're worry isn't going to help his condition at all." One of the attendants moved closer to her to whisper in her ear.
"Penny Shannon!! What the hell am I supposed to do?!!!" She gripped the scalp of her head tightly.
"Right now, we need to get Dexter situated in the hospital. There is a risk that comes with this business. Dexter isn't the first guy we've seen torn down." Kristina listened to him, but all she could hear were the beeps from the equipment. She wasn't sure where they came from, or if they had even existed it all.
"I'm gonna get her. You f*cking watch.. Dexter.. Can you hear me!!" She said as she moved along the body of the torn down Dex, who was unconscious, and battered from head to toe.
"He's not going to come back alive like nothing happened. We need to do our job. You stay safe out there." One of the other attendants said, as he gripped her shoulder and lead her out of the ambulance. She resisted, with the worrying kicks and screams that made everyone doubt that her partner was skilled in the art of judo. And maybe Dex made everyone forget that as well.
"I told you, you weren't supposed to go in there mam." The man standing outside the ambulance instructed.
Her red hair was veering in every direction, and was completely unkempt. She was wild, and Dex was the leash that tamed her. And without restraint she would issue the deeply seated desire for vengeance that every hot 20-something is born with.
"Don't f*cking say that to me."
"I understand, you're distraught mam."
"Where does Penny Shannon stay?! Huh! Tell me it here and now!"
"I'm just not the man to ask. I work with the hospital, not the WFWF."
"WFWF..whatever the f*ck that is! Who do I need to talk to!!" She got up closer in his face.
"For what mam?! I don't get what you want me to say or do!"
"Where...is...is...her locker."
"I told you already mam I just don't know!"
"I'm going to f*cking find it. And when I do. If I ever, see you or your face again, you are going to get it. You got it?"
"Yes." Maybe the spit from her reddened face landed along his mouth or something, but he snapped into agreement and began to be a bit more cautious. But she shook her head, and sighed once more in disbelief. She couldn't remove herself from the situation, and everything about it still felt like a dream she wanted to wake up from; but only a violent shake from God could do so. She could still hear the beeping, and at this point she was convinced that she had begun to lose it.
She turned away, and clicked her heels loudly with each step across the floor. She wasn't sure where she'd find Penny Shannon. But when she did, she would ultimately destroy her in the only way she ever knew how, verbally. She followed the signs in the backstage area, hoping that they would point her in a useful direction.
"I can't take this. I can't take this." She reiterated to herself, it almost seemed as if she was hyperventilating in the way that she bowed her head down and engulfed her mouth into her purse.
A WFWF crew member was walking by. AND that was crime enough. The smug look of a smile he'd paid her. She wanted to rip the logo straight off his shirt and make him eat cold. No microwave in sight.
In slowed motion they spewed.
"How're.."
"You..."
"Doing..."
"Today..."
"'Mam..."
All she saw were the flaps of lips moving up and down, with the occasional spit-bomb that most people tend to ignore.
"YOU MOTHERF*CKER WHERE IS PENNY SHANNON?!!?" She moved closer to him and gripped his polo collar.
"Down the hall and take a left." He verbally bowed before her and bent the knee. He was relieved to feel the feeling of breathing after she loosened her grip.
As soon as she turned around. She heard it. She felt it. She felt demons crawling up and down her skin all at once.
Gulp. That motherf*cker took a big sigh of relief in the form of piled up spit. Like she wouldn't f*ckin' notice. She turned around and gave him the massive eye gaze that all women pull out of their playbook every once in a while just to get some dirty looks.
"Listen Penny's leavin' in a minute! You better run!" She couldn't tell if he was truthing or lying, but she knew something was up once he started to run in the opposite direction, lazily flapping his arms in the back as if he was some anime cartoon character. She bet that was the only time he'd ran since the time he walked around the field in middle school.
A sense of urgency kicked in; the willingness to kick *ss. So she began to run along in her heels, ignoring the fact that she'd probably awake the next day with callouses stringing her once thought to be beautiful feet.
Tap tap tap..Tick tick tick. With each step she heard the passing of time. She wouldn't know how to react if she hadn't encountered Penny Shannon. Some things are better left unknown. Heads would be rolling, men would be dodging in a real life Frogger.
She saw the sign that read 'Penny Shannon.' She gripped her handle on the door and proceeded to open it with all her womanly strength. Inside was the devil she'd wish to kill. Penny Shannon was seated along her metal chair, removing the tape from her wrist. They immediately caught eyes.
"What?" The snot-nosed b*tch faced remark was something that Kristina knew very well. And in a sense she was intimidated that someone knew her strength as well as she had.
"Penny, right?" She moved inside the room closer, shutting the door behind her.
"Yeah?" Penny shrugged. "What's up?"
She continued to move towards the seated Penny. Once she had moved within arms distance, she bent down, and began to run her fingers through Penny's hair. She would linger her fingertips along the strings of hair and touch down around her ear.
"You like that...Don't you?" Her voice fluctuated highly.
Penny remained silent. But it was clear in her lust filled eyes, that the last thing she would find bulging into her rage-filled locker-room was a seductress redhead.
"We can't do it in here." She said as she moved her hips forward, standing up straight.
"What do you mea.."
Penny was interrupted with the placement of a silent finger along her lips. Accompanied with a 'shh.'
"I want a time. With you alone."
"Just lock the door. It locks."
"Alone. So we can have all the time in the world."
Silence.
"So we can do every naughty thing. I'm a very, bad girl." Kristina giggled.
"Why not now? Who the f*ck are you?" Penny stiffened in her chair, as she could almost feel the doubt circulating around this mysterious figure.
"I was sent here just for you."
"By who?!" Penny stood from her chair, Kristina cowered.
"Alright. Listen. I'm done f*cking with you. That means you're done f*cking with me."
"Who even are you, woman?"
Kristina thought for a moment before responding. She'd pissed off an angry giant who had just slain her man. Her head would proceed to roll along the halls if she said the things that she truly wished to say. Oh how she pictured it in her mind, over and over again. She'd already run through the simple 'f*ck you's,' the steel chair she'd lift and nail Penny in the face, the 'your make-up looks like you went running off out of a one night stand.' Maybe she made the wrong decision.
"Why did you do it?!"
"...Do what..." Penny was genuinely oblivious.
"Oh. That? That's what you're wasting my time for?" Penny continued.
"Do you think this is a game? Jesus, all of you people are f*ckin' psycho circus. You hit him. With a bat. You could have killed him. And for what? To fufill your sick violence boner?"
"Dex...huh.."
"What the hell are you doing staring at me like i'm not talking to you?!"
"Sorry, just never heard anyone talk about him like that before. Could'a sworn he was the guy that everyone hated."
"So you try to f*ckin' kill the guy?!"
"Well, the guy is probably in bed with Lila. Might want to check that out." Penny issued her ultimatum, as she slightly nudged the shoulder of Kristina, yet it sent her crashing along the opposite side of the locker. Penny began to open the door before Kristina responded.
"Lila? Who the hell is that?"
"The boss lady. The woman that makes the cards, shows, matches. Yadda, yadda, Dex hasn't won jack sh*t and he gets every damn match in the world just to lose it."
"So you're saying he's cheating on me?" In the span of five seconds she had already visualized some model-esque woman bending before Dex in every imaginable position.
"Hey, maybe." She shrugged, exiting.
Kristina waited a good second for the door to firmly shut before she lost her composure entirely, as if she had it in the first place.
"I'm going to f*cking get her. We're going to f*cking get her."
"Penny Shannon." She murmured the name out-loud for what seemed to be a million times.
"This isn't your fight Kristina what are you doing?! The best thing in the world for you is for Dexter to get his head knocked a few times. We can get our house in Acapulco, forget this ever happened and move on."
She couldn't stop herself.
"But THAT b*tch has the nerve to tell me that he's cheating on me." The images would not disappear. She imagined a woman that women and men alike would drool to be or be with.
"I'm going to destroy her. F*ckin destroy her."
She took a long sigh.
"This is war Penny."
Kristana hadn't been able to properly swallow the massive pill that had been forced upon her. She watched every second of the beating, and with each swing she wished to be transported to the starry nights when they'd take turns swigging bottles as if they were nothing. That seemed to be a distant memory, that she had wished she had been able to forget. But she simply hadn't been able to. She knew deep down inside, that if she could walk away and forget that Dexter Brett had ever existed, that she certainly would. She was in too deep. She could no longer stand behind and tread lightly.
"Let me in there!" She screamed at the man who had just closed the ambulance doors. The red and blue lights flickering in the ill-lit backstage area.
"Mam I'm not sur.." He walked towards her to try and validate her backstage pass, to see who she was, but Kristina knew this was no time for validation.
"Let me f*ckin' in there i'm his wife!" Marriage in secret? Nope. Just manipulation. She pushed him back and opened the doors to the ambulance, to which she invited herself along his side. The attendants stared at her with their eyes peering out of their heads, deers caught in the headlights.
"What the f*ck is wrong with him!?! Is he okay!?!"
"Mam, he's severely injured. You're worry isn't going to help his condition at all." One of the attendants moved closer to her to whisper in her ear.
"Penny Shannon!! What the hell am I supposed to do?!!!" She gripped the scalp of her head tightly.
"Right now, we need to get Dexter situated in the hospital. There is a risk that comes with this business. Dexter isn't the first guy we've seen torn down." Kristina listened to him, but all she could hear were the beeps from the equipment. She wasn't sure where they came from, or if they had even existed it all.
"I'm gonna get her. You f*cking watch.. Dexter.. Can you hear me!!" She said as she moved along the body of the torn down Dex, who was unconscious, and battered from head to toe.
"He's not going to come back alive like nothing happened. We need to do our job. You stay safe out there." One of the other attendants said, as he gripped her shoulder and lead her out of the ambulance. She resisted, with the worrying kicks and screams that made everyone doubt that her partner was skilled in the art of judo. And maybe Dex made everyone forget that as well.
"I told you, you weren't supposed to go in there mam." The man standing outside the ambulance instructed.
Her red hair was veering in every direction, and was completely unkempt. She was wild, and Dex was the leash that tamed her. And without restraint she would issue the deeply seated desire for vengeance that every hot 20-something is born with.
"Don't f*cking say that to me."
"I understand, you're distraught mam."
"Where does Penny Shannon stay?! Huh! Tell me it here and now!"
"I'm just not the man to ask. I work with the hospital, not the WFWF."
"WFWF..whatever the f*ck that is! Who do I need to talk to!!" She got up closer in his face.
"For what mam?! I don't get what you want me to say or do!"
"Where...is...is...her locker."
"I told you already mam I just don't know!"
"I'm going to f*cking find it. And when I do. If I ever, see you or your face again, you are going to get it. You got it?"
"Yes." Maybe the spit from her reddened face landed along his mouth or something, but he snapped into agreement and began to be a bit more cautious. But she shook her head, and sighed once more in disbelief. She couldn't remove herself from the situation, and everything about it still felt like a dream she wanted to wake up from; but only a violent shake from God could do so. She could still hear the beeping, and at this point she was convinced that she had begun to lose it.
She turned away, and clicked her heels loudly with each step across the floor. She wasn't sure where she'd find Penny Shannon. But when she did, she would ultimately destroy her in the only way she ever knew how, verbally. She followed the signs in the backstage area, hoping that they would point her in a useful direction.
"I can't take this. I can't take this." She reiterated to herself, it almost seemed as if she was hyperventilating in the way that she bowed her head down and engulfed her mouth into her purse.
A WFWF crew member was walking by. AND that was crime enough. The smug look of a smile he'd paid her. She wanted to rip the logo straight off his shirt and make him eat cold. No microwave in sight.
In slowed motion they spewed.
"How're.."
"You..."
"Doing..."
"Today..."
"'Mam..."
All she saw were the flaps of lips moving up and down, with the occasional spit-bomb that most people tend to ignore.
"YOU MOTHERF*CKER WHERE IS PENNY SHANNON?!!?" She moved closer to him and gripped his polo collar.
"Down the hall and take a left." He verbally bowed before her and bent the knee. He was relieved to feel the feeling of breathing after she loosened her grip.
As soon as she turned around. She heard it. She felt it. She felt demons crawling up and down her skin all at once.
Gulp. That motherf*cker took a big sigh of relief in the form of piled up spit. Like she wouldn't f*ckin' notice. She turned around and gave him the massive eye gaze that all women pull out of their playbook every once in a while just to get some dirty looks.
"Listen Penny's leavin' in a minute! You better run!" She couldn't tell if he was truthing or lying, but she knew something was up once he started to run in the opposite direction, lazily flapping his arms in the back as if he was some anime cartoon character. She bet that was the only time he'd ran since the time he walked around the field in middle school.
A sense of urgency kicked in; the willingness to kick *ss. So she began to run along in her heels, ignoring the fact that she'd probably awake the next day with callouses stringing her once thought to be beautiful feet.
Tap tap tap..Tick tick tick. With each step she heard the passing of time. She wouldn't know how to react if she hadn't encountered Penny Shannon. Some things are better left unknown. Heads would be rolling, men would be dodging in a real life Frogger.
She saw the sign that read 'Penny Shannon.' She gripped her handle on the door and proceeded to open it with all her womanly strength. Inside was the devil she'd wish to kill. Penny Shannon was seated along her metal chair, removing the tape from her wrist. They immediately caught eyes.
"What?" The snot-nosed b*tch faced remark was something that Kristina knew very well. And in a sense she was intimidated that someone knew her strength as well as she had.
"Penny, right?" She moved inside the room closer, shutting the door behind her.
"Yeah?" Penny shrugged. "What's up?"
She continued to move towards the seated Penny. Once she had moved within arms distance, she bent down, and began to run her fingers through Penny's hair. She would linger her fingertips along the strings of hair and touch down around her ear.
"You like that...Don't you?" Her voice fluctuated highly.
Penny remained silent. But it was clear in her lust filled eyes, that the last thing she would find bulging into her rage-filled locker-room was a seductress redhead.
"We can't do it in here." She said as she moved her hips forward, standing up straight.
"What do you mea.."
Penny was interrupted with the placement of a silent finger along her lips. Accompanied with a 'shh.'
"I want a time. With you alone."
"Just lock the door. It locks."
"Alone. So we can have all the time in the world."
Silence.
"So we can do every naughty thing. I'm a very, bad girl." Kristina giggled.
"Why not now? Who the f*ck are you?" Penny stiffened in her chair, as she could almost feel the doubt circulating around this mysterious figure.
"I was sent here just for you."
"By who?!" Penny stood from her chair, Kristina cowered.
"Alright. Listen. I'm done f*cking with you. That means you're done f*cking with me."
"Who even are you, woman?"
Kristina thought for a moment before responding. She'd pissed off an angry giant who had just slain her man. Her head would proceed to roll along the halls if she said the things that she truly wished to say. Oh how she pictured it in her mind, over and over again. She'd already run through the simple 'f*ck you's,' the steel chair she'd lift and nail Penny in the face, the 'your make-up looks like you went running off out of a one night stand.' Maybe she made the wrong decision.
"Why did you do it?!"
"...Do what..." Penny was genuinely oblivious.
"Oh. That? That's what you're wasting my time for?" Penny continued.
"Do you think this is a game? Jesus, all of you people are f*ckin' psycho circus. You hit him. With a bat. You could have killed him. And for what? To fufill your sick violence boner?"
"Dex...huh.."
"What the hell are you doing staring at me like i'm not talking to you?!"
"Sorry, just never heard anyone talk about him like that before. Could'a sworn he was the guy that everyone hated."
"So you try to f*ckin' kill the guy?!"
"Well, the guy is probably in bed with Lila. Might want to check that out." Penny issued her ultimatum, as she slightly nudged the shoulder of Kristina, yet it sent her crashing along the opposite side of the locker. Penny began to open the door before Kristina responded.
"Lila? Who the hell is that?"
"The boss lady. The woman that makes the cards, shows, matches. Yadda, yadda, Dex hasn't won jack sh*t and he gets every damn match in the world just to lose it."
"So you're saying he's cheating on me?" In the span of five seconds she had already visualized some model-esque woman bending before Dex in every imaginable position.
"Hey, maybe." She shrugged, exiting.
Kristina waited a good second for the door to firmly shut before she lost her composure entirely, as if she had it in the first place.
"I'm going to f*cking get her. We're going to f*cking get her."
"Penny Shannon." She murmured the name out-loud for what seemed to be a million times.
"This isn't your fight Kristina what are you doing?! The best thing in the world for you is for Dexter to get his head knocked a few times. We can get our house in Acapulco, forget this ever happened and move on."
She couldn't stop herself.
"But THAT b*tch has the nerve to tell me that he's cheating on me." The images would not disappear. She imagined a woman that women and men alike would drool to be or be with.
"I'm going to destroy her. F*ckin destroy her."
She took a long sigh.
"This is war Penny."
~
Dex was alone, walking along the forgotten Baltimore streets at night. Riots and protests had done definitive damage to the city in which he'd call home. The backstreets seemed less secure than they ever had, and the uncertainty of life or death as he walked mimicked the same rush he'd get whenever he'd step into the ring. Dexter was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, having been tied to a hospital bed for several long days he'd left his beard grow and seep down beneath his neck.
He couldn't help but feel that someone was following him close behind. The whimper of their footsteps mimicking the sound of metallic bats that he'd grown to know. But Dex ignored it the best he could. Standing in front of him were the vices he thought he had removed, at least since meeting Kristina. The old tavern in neon lights, that he'd call home and drown his sorrow in the form of a scorching drink. Scantily clad women walking back and forth, to and from cars. He'd been with all of them, and not one had been new since then.
He hadn't gone out alone for quite some time. He needed a breath of freshly polluted air to cleanse his iron heart. He hadn't forgotten of Kristina, but an increasing portion of him desired to be alone, if just for a moment. Kristina, the ring, all of it was an added pressure to someone with the limited focus of two. Penny Shannon and Makoto.
As Dex flinched beside the streets he used to call home, looking back every now and then at the women he couldn't help but desire again; a hand gripped his shoulder. Dexter was startled, but tensed up and entered his fighting stance.
"You don't remember me huh?" An older man called out. Dexter was stunned at the sight, he quickly removed the hood from his head.
"No, it's just it's been a few years. I can't believe you're here." Dex couldn't stop his smile from growing wider.
"I came to look for my favorite pupil. I just wasn't sure the day would be tonight." The man was Dex's former judo master. Prior to Dex's debut in the WFWF, he had spent substantial time training in Japan.
"I wasn't sure there'd be a day. When I left I had no intention of coming back or ever seeing you other the others again. Maybe it's my fault for burning the bridge."
"No worries Dexter. Let us speak somewhere calmer." The old man had a particular distaste for night-life and the loud supremacy of car sounds and screams that blocked his preferred noises of bird-chirpings and the crashing of water upon rocks. Dex's entire mind was blurred with ecstasy that he had completely disregarded 'why' or 'what' the reason for Master Katsu's arrival. It was as if some shift in the complexities of fate had brought them together once more, after the death of Shawn Malakai; to whom Dex similarly admired and followed.
"How about the 'ole tavern?" He smiled, expecting his former master to smile, but instead remained solid.
"Show me your home instead. We shall talk there." Dexter bowed his head towards his master, as if in the moment of pure joy he'd forgotten the code that he had learned while in Japan. While in Japan, Dex had sought to escape, and that he certainly did. While in Japan he had disappeared from his old friends that he had used to wrestle along with in his backyard; he was happily quite far from his father - no matter how much his conscious felt remorse. In Japan he had learned to become a warrior; but upon his arrival to the United States, encompassing all the glitz and glamor of fame and riches, he had lost sight of what made him.
"Yes sir. I live a short ride away." The two trekked towards his car, that was conveniently parked in the shade of some older abandoned buildings. His black sports car faded into the night, and almost created doubt that it was even there at all for the unsuspecting eye. His master struggled to properly enter the car, unable to bend his back without the assistance of Dex, who aided him into being buckled tightly along the sleek sports car chair that juxtaposed his traditional loose Japanese clothing.
The streets in the poorly lit Baltimore ghetto were quickly passed by the speed of Dex's car. Master Katsu remained in pure silence, and once Dex had tried to turn the radio on he was met with a mean look that he had long forgotten. Master Katsu played no games, and certainly was not in the mood for any tonight.
"How have you been and all? You haven't told me much about the dojo." Dex tried to make conversation and intrude in the silence that caused him so much doubt and fear.
"I have been very good. The dojo has been good, and is under good command."
"I'm guessing you don't visit as often?"
"Less so, now that I am older. This is not about me Dexter."
"What is this about?" He questioned, as he began to pull into the conveniently opened gate of his manor.
The silence continued, it was as if Master Katsu was stuck in a trance, and the only thing he could do was peer in amazement at Dex's gothic styled mansion. He had wished that he could escape humbly into the comfort of a poorly lit tavern. As soon as they exited the car, Chauncey, Dex's butler, quickly led them inside the household.
"Master Katsu, what a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard many things of you." Chauncey spoke in his English accent, that made it apparently difficult for Master Katsu to process each word.
"Thank you." Katsu bowed his head.
"Chauncey leave us alone." Dex flung his fingers forward as Chauncey bowed and proceeded to lose himself in the grandeur of Dex's mansion. Katsu and Dexter seated themselves at Dex's massive dinner table, seated at opposite ends.
"I am worried about you Dexter. I see you on television. I know what you do now."
"Maybe I should have sent a postcard or something." He smiled, to which Katsu slightly turned his head distastefully.
"I saw you get hit with the bat by that woman. Do you not remember the warriors code?"
"I do."
"You seem to have forgotten. Have you gone mad Dexter? You are living in excess! This house can hold eighteen people!"
"I have money, what I am supposed to do Master? Not spend it?"
"Remember when we had our mission trips? When we went to the poor neighborhoods, built houses, and delivered them food? You have lost your own way Dexter."
"I live and work on my own code now."
"I can see that." Katsu sighed, and placed his hands over his head. "Dexter. I don't want you to lose sight of what makes the man. It isn't your money or the gold you possess, it's the heart you hold. I want to see you fight for the love of the sport again. Like you used to."
Master Katsu, I have changed so much since the last time we met. You saw me as a thin and helpless teenager with not much more than the skin he carried on his back. I've got bigger things on my mind than world-peace and solving issues that aren't my own. I do this for me and me only. I don't fight in the ring for anyone else, and if I said so, I'd be lying.
"I understand Master. I don't play games like these other guys do. I fight, and I let my fighting speak for itself." Or at least, I haven't played too many, yet. Strings will soon be pulled and people will be hurt and that's just the way this business is.
"This is serious. And I don't think you understand what you are saying. You risk putting our order and code at risk with every action you commit."
"I left. I don't represent you, your dojo, or the art of judo anymore. I'm a wrestler."
"You do not wish to practice martial arts anymore?"
"No. I want to fight to win gold, have my name in lights, get my women, and gain the vices you told me I could never have."
"They are bad for you. You will soon see."
"War is dirty."
"Of course I know that Dexter, you are my pupil."
"I can't win and be respected unless I play the game."
"One day you will wake up and realize that you have lost it all. And that you have nothing at all. Perhaps, only then, you will learn."
Dex remained in silence as Master Katsu steadily got up from his chair, using the table as beams of support.
"I'm the best."
"Keep believing in that." Katsu said disgustingly. As he began to walk towards the front-door.
"I've got bigger things on my plate. Than an old man with charming words." Dex uttered to himself. He saw Chauncey, his butler, peering from behind the kitchen counter. Dex flung his arm outward and demanded that Chauncey assist in taking Katsu home. Chauncey ran as best he could, while dressed in the tight asphyxiation of a suit.
"They just don't want me to succeed. None of them."
He couldn't help but feel that someone was following him close behind. The whimper of their footsteps mimicking the sound of metallic bats that he'd grown to know. But Dex ignored it the best he could. Standing in front of him were the vices he thought he had removed, at least since meeting Kristina. The old tavern in neon lights, that he'd call home and drown his sorrow in the form of a scorching drink. Scantily clad women walking back and forth, to and from cars. He'd been with all of them, and not one had been new since then.
He hadn't gone out alone for quite some time. He needed a breath of freshly polluted air to cleanse his iron heart. He hadn't forgotten of Kristina, but an increasing portion of him desired to be alone, if just for a moment. Kristina, the ring, all of it was an added pressure to someone with the limited focus of two. Penny Shannon and Makoto.
As Dex flinched beside the streets he used to call home, looking back every now and then at the women he couldn't help but desire again; a hand gripped his shoulder. Dexter was startled, but tensed up and entered his fighting stance.
"You don't remember me huh?" An older man called out. Dexter was stunned at the sight, he quickly removed the hood from his head.
"No, it's just it's been a few years. I can't believe you're here." Dex couldn't stop his smile from growing wider.
"I came to look for my favorite pupil. I just wasn't sure the day would be tonight." The man was Dex's former judo master. Prior to Dex's debut in the WFWF, he had spent substantial time training in Japan.
"I wasn't sure there'd be a day. When I left I had no intention of coming back or ever seeing you other the others again. Maybe it's my fault for burning the bridge."
"No worries Dexter. Let us speak somewhere calmer." The old man had a particular distaste for night-life and the loud supremacy of car sounds and screams that blocked his preferred noises of bird-chirpings and the crashing of water upon rocks. Dex's entire mind was blurred with ecstasy that he had completely disregarded 'why' or 'what' the reason for Master Katsu's arrival. It was as if some shift in the complexities of fate had brought them together once more, after the death of Shawn Malakai; to whom Dex similarly admired and followed.
"How about the 'ole tavern?" He smiled, expecting his former master to smile, but instead remained solid.
"Show me your home instead. We shall talk there." Dexter bowed his head towards his master, as if in the moment of pure joy he'd forgotten the code that he had learned while in Japan. While in Japan, Dex had sought to escape, and that he certainly did. While in Japan he had disappeared from his old friends that he had used to wrestle along with in his backyard; he was happily quite far from his father - no matter how much his conscious felt remorse. In Japan he had learned to become a warrior; but upon his arrival to the United States, encompassing all the glitz and glamor of fame and riches, he had lost sight of what made him.
"Yes sir. I live a short ride away." The two trekked towards his car, that was conveniently parked in the shade of some older abandoned buildings. His black sports car faded into the night, and almost created doubt that it was even there at all for the unsuspecting eye. His master struggled to properly enter the car, unable to bend his back without the assistance of Dex, who aided him into being buckled tightly along the sleek sports car chair that juxtaposed his traditional loose Japanese clothing.
The streets in the poorly lit Baltimore ghetto were quickly passed by the speed of Dex's car. Master Katsu remained in pure silence, and once Dex had tried to turn the radio on he was met with a mean look that he had long forgotten. Master Katsu played no games, and certainly was not in the mood for any tonight.
"How have you been and all? You haven't told me much about the dojo." Dex tried to make conversation and intrude in the silence that caused him so much doubt and fear.
"I have been very good. The dojo has been good, and is under good command."
"I'm guessing you don't visit as often?"
"Less so, now that I am older. This is not about me Dexter."
"What is this about?" He questioned, as he began to pull into the conveniently opened gate of his manor.
The silence continued, it was as if Master Katsu was stuck in a trance, and the only thing he could do was peer in amazement at Dex's gothic styled mansion. He had wished that he could escape humbly into the comfort of a poorly lit tavern. As soon as they exited the car, Chauncey, Dex's butler, quickly led them inside the household.
"Master Katsu, what a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard many things of you." Chauncey spoke in his English accent, that made it apparently difficult for Master Katsu to process each word.
"Thank you." Katsu bowed his head.
"Chauncey leave us alone." Dex flung his fingers forward as Chauncey bowed and proceeded to lose himself in the grandeur of Dex's mansion. Katsu and Dexter seated themselves at Dex's massive dinner table, seated at opposite ends.
"I am worried about you Dexter. I see you on television. I know what you do now."
"Maybe I should have sent a postcard or something." He smiled, to which Katsu slightly turned his head distastefully.
"I saw you get hit with the bat by that woman. Do you not remember the warriors code?"
"I do."
"You seem to have forgotten. Have you gone mad Dexter? You are living in excess! This house can hold eighteen people!"
"I have money, what I am supposed to do Master? Not spend it?"
"Remember when we had our mission trips? When we went to the poor neighborhoods, built houses, and delivered them food? You have lost your own way Dexter."
"I live and work on my own code now."
"I can see that." Katsu sighed, and placed his hands over his head. "Dexter. I don't want you to lose sight of what makes the man. It isn't your money or the gold you possess, it's the heart you hold. I want to see you fight for the love of the sport again. Like you used to."
Master Katsu, I have changed so much since the last time we met. You saw me as a thin and helpless teenager with not much more than the skin he carried on his back. I've got bigger things on my mind than world-peace and solving issues that aren't my own. I do this for me and me only. I don't fight in the ring for anyone else, and if I said so, I'd be lying.
"I understand Master. I don't play games like these other guys do. I fight, and I let my fighting speak for itself." Or at least, I haven't played too many, yet. Strings will soon be pulled and people will be hurt and that's just the way this business is.
"This is serious. And I don't think you understand what you are saying. You risk putting our order and code at risk with every action you commit."
"I left. I don't represent you, your dojo, or the art of judo anymore. I'm a wrestler."
"You do not wish to practice martial arts anymore?"
"No. I want to fight to win gold, have my name in lights, get my women, and gain the vices you told me I could never have."
"They are bad for you. You will soon see."
"War is dirty."
"Of course I know that Dexter, you are my pupil."
"I can't win and be respected unless I play the game."
"One day you will wake up and realize that you have lost it all. And that you have nothing at all. Perhaps, only then, you will learn."
Dex remained in silence as Master Katsu steadily got up from his chair, using the table as beams of support.
"I'm the best."
"Keep believing in that." Katsu said disgustingly. As he began to walk towards the front-door.
"I've got bigger things on my plate. Than an old man with charming words." Dex uttered to himself. He saw Chauncey, his butler, peering from behind the kitchen counter. Dex flung his arm outward and demanded that Chauncey assist in taking Katsu home. Chauncey ran as best he could, while dressed in the tight asphyxiation of a suit.
"They just don't want me to succeed. None of them."
~
Makoto Nishiyama. In my mind I've already killed you a million times, in every way imaginable. I wish I could think more of the things at hand without you being in the way. I don't claim to know anything in particular about you. And rightfully, I wish to know less than I already know. I don't understand what type of game you think this is. What type of fashion show, or homo-erotic massage center you have in mind on the day that we enter that ring. I don't play games. I never have, but something about you bothers me to the very core, in the way you disrespect that ring, when you trounce around in a dress and scream outward with your misplaced girly speak.
Makoto, this is all fun for you isn't it? The way you champion yourself based on the premise of the outfit you assign yourself. You wear dresses and wigs, and you call yourself 'Beautiful Strong Style.' I am almost ashamed of stepping into the ring with you, and if not for the limp of my leg; I'd beat you to a pulp before you even step inside the ring. There's a reason why guys like you don't make it inside this business. You are just in it for the popularity contest alone. You talk and talk and talk. And that's all I've ever seen you do. You haven't earned my respect by beating a couple nobodies. You haven't earned my respect by talking up a storm on Twitter. You haven't earned my respect on the basis of you calling yourself 'pretty.' Because this ring, this fight, and this world, is just about respect. Something you don't seem to have.
You seem oblivious to the arts of war themselves. I can see in the way you walk that you don't respect this sport as I do. You can claim experience, or claim the fact that your parent's legacy is the reason you'll beat me. But I could care less about you being shoe-horned on the basis of someone kissing *ss or paying checks. From what I've seen, I have nothing to fear when I step in the ring with you; even with me battered and bruised unable to walk at times.
You and I, as much as it pains me to admit, are not as different as it may seem. With your elaborate get-ups, your androgynous behavior; I can see clear as day that it's just a front to hide substance that isn't actually there. Makoto Nishiyama does not exist. He's a character you crafted out of self-defense to protect yourself from being exposed and attacked. It's a layer of protection, because you're too scared to see how people will react when they know the real you. For me it was a mask, and a pearly smile that meant nothing. Perhaps in the ceremony of shared fists we will become closer; you will understand what it means to be a real warrior, instead of hiding behind an elaborate get-up.
Because Makoto, you're a nobody until you've tasted the hard reality of the cold bottom of the mat. You're excited to entertain; and I'll help you get to that next step. Once you've paid your dues, gotten your *ss handed to you at your doorstep, then you'll be worth my time and effort. As it stands, you're just another tally that means nothing to me at the end of the day.
SuperBrawl is on the horizon. Penny Shannon will pay. Makoto, the only reason that I'll show up for our fight is just to show you just how much I care about winning. You'll learn a thing or two from our dance, and maybe the next time you wrestle, you'll treat the ring and it's legacy with more respect. Oh how Beautiful Strong Style has arrived! He'll just happen to be delivered in a much larger box; that of the colored lights of an ambulance.
I have killed the boy that happily lived within me. I have slain the innocence that I held dear. And I have let the man be born. The Queen is dead.
Makoto, this is all fun for you isn't it? The way you champion yourself based on the premise of the outfit you assign yourself. You wear dresses and wigs, and you call yourself 'Beautiful Strong Style.' I am almost ashamed of stepping into the ring with you, and if not for the limp of my leg; I'd beat you to a pulp before you even step inside the ring. There's a reason why guys like you don't make it inside this business. You are just in it for the popularity contest alone. You talk and talk and talk. And that's all I've ever seen you do. You haven't earned my respect by beating a couple nobodies. You haven't earned my respect by talking up a storm on Twitter. You haven't earned my respect on the basis of you calling yourself 'pretty.' Because this ring, this fight, and this world, is just about respect. Something you don't seem to have.
You seem oblivious to the arts of war themselves. I can see in the way you walk that you don't respect this sport as I do. You can claim experience, or claim the fact that your parent's legacy is the reason you'll beat me. But I could care less about you being shoe-horned on the basis of someone kissing *ss or paying checks. From what I've seen, I have nothing to fear when I step in the ring with you; even with me battered and bruised unable to walk at times.
You and I, as much as it pains me to admit, are not as different as it may seem. With your elaborate get-ups, your androgynous behavior; I can see clear as day that it's just a front to hide substance that isn't actually there. Makoto Nishiyama does not exist. He's a character you crafted out of self-defense to protect yourself from being exposed and attacked. It's a layer of protection, because you're too scared to see how people will react when they know the real you. For me it was a mask, and a pearly smile that meant nothing. Perhaps in the ceremony of shared fists we will become closer; you will understand what it means to be a real warrior, instead of hiding behind an elaborate get-up.
Because Makoto, you're a nobody until you've tasted the hard reality of the cold bottom of the mat. You're excited to entertain; and I'll help you get to that next step. Once you've paid your dues, gotten your *ss handed to you at your doorstep, then you'll be worth my time and effort. As it stands, you're just another tally that means nothing to me at the end of the day.
SuperBrawl is on the horizon. Penny Shannon will pay. Makoto, the only reason that I'll show up for our fight is just to show you just how much I care about winning. You'll learn a thing or two from our dance, and maybe the next time you wrestle, you'll treat the ring and it's legacy with more respect. Oh how Beautiful Strong Style has arrived! He'll just happen to be delivered in a much larger box; that of the colored lights of an ambulance.
I have killed the boy that happily lived within me. I have slain the innocence that I held dear. And I have let the man be born. The Queen is dead.