Post by silver on Aug 22, 2007 1:32:15 GMT -6
The scene fades in on Silver, who is sitting in the faux, leather, driver seat of a large Dodge Ram. His right hand rests almost gently on top of the steering wheel, while his left hand, balled into a fist, supported his chin against the arm rest. His hair has recently been trimmed, and his tee-shaped goatee and moustache combination are the only specks of hair on his face. His eyes stared straight ahead, paying close attention to the road. The twenty-one-year-old is wearing an unbuttoned blue silk shirt with and black tribal dragons crisscrossing the back and seems. A plain white tee-shirt shows out from underneath the blue shirt, and a pair of faded blue jeans work their way into the ensemble.
“Where did you get this nice f**king truck?” Leon asked from the passenger side of the vehicle. The giant of a man studies the trucks forward console. The dash board is made of carbon fiber, lined with midnight blue plastic. A digital heads up display glowed faintly in front of his half brother’s face, showing the speedometer, odometer, and the rpm gauge. Leon looked out the windows of the large truck; the rolling desert scenery looked as if he was seeing it through a pair of sunglasses. The mountain like man wore his usual attire, a black trench coat, a white tank top, and urban camouflage pants.
“Huh,” Silver said as if he was drawn, harshly, from a deep meditative state. “Oh, I bought it just a couple hours ago.” Silver finished, as the question sunk into his mind. “I was going to borrow Lestat’s, but that fell through. He told me I’d have to catch a ride with you, after I told him yours had bit the bullet. So, I said ‘what the f**k ever,’ and bought the new one.”
“How’d you afford this damn thing?” Leon asked his half-brother. The big man looked at Silver. The younger man just smiled.
“You don’t know about it, do you?” Silver asked, the smile spreading.
“Know about what?” Leon asked.
“The money!” Silver said like it would explain everything.
“What money!?” Leon asked, growing more and more confused.
“The money our parents left us.” Silver started. “They were millionaires, bro! They left each of us FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS! Armand told me about it when I turned fourteen. The first thing I did was invest half of that shit. I have a net worth of one-point-two billion dollars.”
“Damn! I wish someone would have told me about that!” Leon said, shaking his head.
“Sorry about that, bro.” Silver apologized.
“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Leon said before getting quiet. He watched as the truck zipped by a sign at seventy-five miles-per-hour and a sudden feeling of dread fell over the two occupants of the truck. Silver started fidgeting; tapping his finger on the steering wheel, while Leon began to twirl a pencil between his sausage-shaped fingers. After ten minutes of the dark silent, Leon snapped, literally snapping the pencil clean in half, and clicked on the trucks built in Sirius satellite radio.
The first sound to emit from the radio was the slight bass tremble of President Pliskin’s voice: “The other person is Silver. Just like his partner, he'll be no match for me.”
“Change the channel,” Silver said. “I don’t feel like listening to that man prattle on about shit he doesn’t understand. If Lestat and I were easy to defeat, then we wouldn’t be the Midwestern Tag Team champions.”
Leon reached over and tapped up on the channel key, several times passing up the various different Power On Wrestling promos. Finally, a program that finally caught the big man’s attention, it was a small show that Leon had caught before. It was called The Poles, and its primary focus was to watch the fan based poles of various different wrestling federations. The fed currently being discussed was POW, and the match they were discussing, was the Three Way Dance for the Television Title.
“Well Jeff, who’s competing for the Television Title this week?” An interviewer with a distinctly female voice asked her co-host.
“This week Alexia, its Scott Lanegan, Eddie Jones, and Silver,” Jeff stated in a tenor voice.
“But, I thought JR Zevon won the TV title from Rich Morrison at Legendaria last Friday?” Alexia sounded like she knew the answer to her own question, but Jeff didn’t seem to catch that note in her voice, and started to chuckle. Alexia’s mic grew silent, and Silver could almost see the look she had shot at her co-host.
“Umm, well, Nick Pickles stripped Zevon of the title the moment it was handed to him. So, now the title is vacant, and that’s why there’s going to be a Three Way Dance without Zevon defending.” Jeff said in a muted tone of voice.
“So, how do the poles look for these three?” Alexia asked.
“Well,” Jeff started; both of the men in the truck’s cab could hear the gentle tapping on a key board. “First, let’s get some history on each of the competitors. Scott Lanegan was the favorite in his first Television Title match against Kaleb Shadix. Scott was easily defeated by the longest running TV champ. Eddie Jones was the number one contender for the Television Title when Rich Morrison took it from Shadix, and when Morrison lost the belt to JR Zevon. So, now he finally gets his shot at the title. And, the last guy in this match is already a champion. It’s Silver from the reigning POW: MW Tag Team Champions, Rite of Chaos. Silver has built up a great deal of momentum in his team’s last match against The Order, but I wonder if he can keep it up, by himself, against these two opponents. He is the lowest ranked person in the poles…”
Silver’s fist shot out of no where, and smashed the front face plate of the Sirius unit, cutting off the radio. Static fluttered over the speakers, and then settled back into silence. “Everybody’s against me.” Silver said, speaking his thoughts out loud. Leon looked at him, but didn’t say anything. The giant knew it would be best to let Silver finish.
“Every wrestler in this match, every wrestler in the match for the number one contenership, and every wrestler in this f**king federation is against me. Even though, I’ve got the edge over the other two, even though I’m already a god damn champion. You’d think that the fans would give the nod to the person who already has gold. You’d think that they would understand that a person who walks into a ring with gold always has more to prove then the others. Well, I just have to say what the f**k ever. No matter what the f**king fans say I will walk out of that ring with the Television Title around my waste.” Silver took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down.
“I’m pulling for ya, bro.” Leon said calmly.
“I know,” Silver said. “And, I’m thankful for that, but I need to be by myself in the ring. In my last two tag matches I realized some thing. I rely on Lestat far too much in the ring. So, in all honesty, I’m not just walking into that ring to win the Television Title, I’m going into it to prove, to myself and everyone, that I can be a champ on my own. And, just so everybody knows, I hope Lestat does win the number one contendership match. Not, because I want to smash his face in. Not, because I want to prove who the better wrestler is. But, because I want to be able to walk into that ring with him, and have a hell of a match with a man I consider a friend.”
Leon just nods.
“But, now onto the subject of Scott Lanegan and Eddie Jones,” Silver said it as if he were talking about breakfast. “Scott Lanegan is a worthless piece of shit, a failure in everything he has done so far. His rock band, failed. His career as a drug addict, failed. And, now his career as a wrestler, it is certainly starting to look like another failure. He was tossed around the ring by Kaleb Shadix, beaten by a skinny English guy, and a towering moron in the AAA medallion match, and his only tag team win came from interference from The Order. And, after this match at The Road to Reckless Abandon, his singles career will be a failure too. I would honestly advise that he quit while he’s ahead, unless he wants to be facing Shadow for the rest of his career. And, now on to Eddie Jones, Power On Wrestling’s second biggest paper champion. The only match this guy has won in the last three weeks was the number one contender for the TV Title against Flap Flanagan. Hell, he was even outlasted by a girl in the AAA Medallion match at Legendaria. I really doubt he will be of much consequence in the actual Title match. Maybe, he and Scott should team up, and feud with The Order after I win the Television Title, just so they can rack up some wins.” Silver finished, and smiled as he continued driving.
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For the next two hours the pair in the truck tried to carry on small talk to combat the still hanging dread, but it didn’t work. On the last hour of the trip they both sat almost perfectly still, and contemplated what the silence could mean. Nothing very pleasant came to either’s mind, and they knew that only time would tell what the silence truly meant.
____________________________________________________
At long last the lights of Las Vegas greeted the weary travelers’ eyes, and a cold determination set into both of them. A determination to weed out the evil of Purity, and put a stop to it once and for all, avenging the death of their parents.
Silver drove cautiously, remembering what had happened to him the last time he was attacked by the Purity bastards. He made a left, and watched his rear view mirror closely, hoping to spot a trailing vehicle before it rear ended him. Nothing but a large red and blue semi met his gaze. A short, detailed, study of the driver told Silver all he needed to know about him. The truck’s driver was in is mid- to late-thirties, over weight, balding, and wearing a bright red and black flannel shirt with the arms ripped off. Silver knew from the last time he had met with purity, that this guy was certainly not a member.
“LOOK OUT!!!” Leon shouts frantically pointing out the windshield. Silver’s eyes jerk back to the big window, and shudders. Six men, in black suits, stand in the middle of the road, each of them pointing a rifle at Silver’s brand new truck. Behind them two massive garbage trucks, parked nose to nose, block the way.
“F**king PURITY!!!” Silver shouts, and slams the gas pedal to the ground. The trucks engine roars, as Leon looks at Silver like he’s crazy.
“The F**K YOU DOIN?!?!” Leon yells, as the truck gets closer and close to the impromptu road block. Silver ignores the question and sets the cruise control on accelerate, looking up Silver carefully lines the truck up to hit at least two of the assassins.
“Get ready to jump!” Silver says to his half-brother. “NOW!” The pair of them shoves their doors open and leap out of the vehicle. Silver lands and rolls, the impact of the fall being absorbed by the motion, but Leon isn’t as lucky. He slams hard into the ground, left leg first. The bone snaps, but the snap isn’t audible over the twisted sounds of crunching metal, and one man’s crys of anguish as the speeding truck steal his life away. The driver of the semi slams onto the brake pedal, but it isn’t enough. His brakes burn up, and his momentum builds. The-eighteen-wheeler slams into Silver’s truck with the force of a run away freight train, pankcaking the smaller vehicle, and killing the hapless driver.
Silver leapt to his feet as two men approached him, both of their guns had been mangled in the crash, but it still looked like they were up for a fight.
“You bitches have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Silver said, as they approached him. He ran at the one closest to him, and slammed his fist right into the man’s face. The suited man back pedaled from the attack, and his partner swung a well aimed punch at Silver’s chest, but the twenty-one year old dodged the blow, and responded by kicking the other suited guy in the knee. A pop sounded from the joint, and the man dropped. Silver, taking the advantage, quickly began to pound on the downed man’s already injured knee. One half of the tag team champs seemed to forget about the other attacker, but when he charged Silver reversed the momentum on his next stomp, and kicked the man square in the groin. The attacker fell, and Silver looked down at the man in front of him. Hate filled Silver’s eyes, as he knelt down to him. “Were you their when my Mom and Dad died?” Silver asked the unconscious man. “Don’t want to answer? Fine! You die anyway.” Silver’s hands wrapped themselves around the man’s thick muscular throat, and began to squeeze the life out of him. Even unconscious, the man sputtered for air, but it wouldn’t come. Silver could feel his victim’s pulse slowing, he could feel his victim’s life ebbing away, and he found that the feeling was almost orgasmic. Finally the man’s body slumped, and the feeling went away, so Silver turned to his next target.
Blood, or urine, soaked the other’s pants. He had attempted to crawl away from the nearly insane Silver. “Where do you think you’re going?” The twenty-one year old mocked him. “I know, I know,” Silver started, imitating a little child in school. “You’re going to go to hell!”
Silver walked to him, and again knelt beside him. The man looked at Silver, his eyes pleading for mercy. A sickened expression passed over Silver’s face as he grabbed the man by his hair. With a great pull, Silver yanked him around so that his back was to the wrestler, nearly pulling his hair out in the process. Silver’s hand remained clamped to his hair, as he reached around and took hold of the man’s chin. “I don’t believe in mercy.” Silver whispered into his second victim’s ear, as he violently twisted his arms around, nearly turning the man’s head a complete one-hundred-and-eighty degrees.
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Leon looks up at the three men standing over top of him. Only one of them still has a gun, and Leon now understands why the feeling of dread bothered him more than it did Silver. The giant of a man stared down the barrel of the gun, and quickly did two things in his mind, as the man standing above him began to squeeze the rifles trigger. First, he made his peace with God, and second he apologized to Silver, for not being there for his title match. The scene fades to black as a single gun shot rings out through the city streets.
“Where did you get this nice f**king truck?” Leon asked from the passenger side of the vehicle. The giant of a man studies the trucks forward console. The dash board is made of carbon fiber, lined with midnight blue plastic. A digital heads up display glowed faintly in front of his half brother’s face, showing the speedometer, odometer, and the rpm gauge. Leon looked out the windows of the large truck; the rolling desert scenery looked as if he was seeing it through a pair of sunglasses. The mountain like man wore his usual attire, a black trench coat, a white tank top, and urban camouflage pants.
“Huh,” Silver said as if he was drawn, harshly, from a deep meditative state. “Oh, I bought it just a couple hours ago.” Silver finished, as the question sunk into his mind. “I was going to borrow Lestat’s, but that fell through. He told me I’d have to catch a ride with you, after I told him yours had bit the bullet. So, I said ‘what the f**k ever,’ and bought the new one.”
“How’d you afford this damn thing?” Leon asked his half-brother. The big man looked at Silver. The younger man just smiled.
“You don’t know about it, do you?” Silver asked, the smile spreading.
“Know about what?” Leon asked.
“The money!” Silver said like it would explain everything.
“What money!?” Leon asked, growing more and more confused.
“The money our parents left us.” Silver started. “They were millionaires, bro! They left each of us FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS! Armand told me about it when I turned fourteen. The first thing I did was invest half of that shit. I have a net worth of one-point-two billion dollars.”
“Damn! I wish someone would have told me about that!” Leon said, shaking his head.
“Sorry about that, bro.” Silver apologized.
“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Leon said before getting quiet. He watched as the truck zipped by a sign at seventy-five miles-per-hour and a sudden feeling of dread fell over the two occupants of the truck. Silver started fidgeting; tapping his finger on the steering wheel, while Leon began to twirl a pencil between his sausage-shaped fingers. After ten minutes of the dark silent, Leon snapped, literally snapping the pencil clean in half, and clicked on the trucks built in Sirius satellite radio.
The first sound to emit from the radio was the slight bass tremble of President Pliskin’s voice: “The other person is Silver. Just like his partner, he'll be no match for me.”
“Change the channel,” Silver said. “I don’t feel like listening to that man prattle on about shit he doesn’t understand. If Lestat and I were easy to defeat, then we wouldn’t be the Midwestern Tag Team champions.”
Leon reached over and tapped up on the channel key, several times passing up the various different Power On Wrestling promos. Finally, a program that finally caught the big man’s attention, it was a small show that Leon had caught before. It was called The Poles, and its primary focus was to watch the fan based poles of various different wrestling federations. The fed currently being discussed was POW, and the match they were discussing, was the Three Way Dance for the Television Title.
“Well Jeff, who’s competing for the Television Title this week?” An interviewer with a distinctly female voice asked her co-host.
“This week Alexia, its Scott Lanegan, Eddie Jones, and Silver,” Jeff stated in a tenor voice.
“But, I thought JR Zevon won the TV title from Rich Morrison at Legendaria last Friday?” Alexia sounded like she knew the answer to her own question, but Jeff didn’t seem to catch that note in her voice, and started to chuckle. Alexia’s mic grew silent, and Silver could almost see the look she had shot at her co-host.
“Umm, well, Nick Pickles stripped Zevon of the title the moment it was handed to him. So, now the title is vacant, and that’s why there’s going to be a Three Way Dance without Zevon defending.” Jeff said in a muted tone of voice.
“So, how do the poles look for these three?” Alexia asked.
“Well,” Jeff started; both of the men in the truck’s cab could hear the gentle tapping on a key board. “First, let’s get some history on each of the competitors. Scott Lanegan was the favorite in his first Television Title match against Kaleb Shadix. Scott was easily defeated by the longest running TV champ. Eddie Jones was the number one contender for the Television Title when Rich Morrison took it from Shadix, and when Morrison lost the belt to JR Zevon. So, now he finally gets his shot at the title. And, the last guy in this match is already a champion. It’s Silver from the reigning POW: MW Tag Team Champions, Rite of Chaos. Silver has built up a great deal of momentum in his team’s last match against The Order, but I wonder if he can keep it up, by himself, against these two opponents. He is the lowest ranked person in the poles…”
Silver’s fist shot out of no where, and smashed the front face plate of the Sirius unit, cutting off the radio. Static fluttered over the speakers, and then settled back into silence. “Everybody’s against me.” Silver said, speaking his thoughts out loud. Leon looked at him, but didn’t say anything. The giant knew it would be best to let Silver finish.
“Every wrestler in this match, every wrestler in the match for the number one contenership, and every wrestler in this f**king federation is against me. Even though, I’ve got the edge over the other two, even though I’m already a god damn champion. You’d think that the fans would give the nod to the person who already has gold. You’d think that they would understand that a person who walks into a ring with gold always has more to prove then the others. Well, I just have to say what the f**k ever. No matter what the f**king fans say I will walk out of that ring with the Television Title around my waste.” Silver took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down.
“I’m pulling for ya, bro.” Leon said calmly.
“I know,” Silver said. “And, I’m thankful for that, but I need to be by myself in the ring. In my last two tag matches I realized some thing. I rely on Lestat far too much in the ring. So, in all honesty, I’m not just walking into that ring to win the Television Title, I’m going into it to prove, to myself and everyone, that I can be a champ on my own. And, just so everybody knows, I hope Lestat does win the number one contendership match. Not, because I want to smash his face in. Not, because I want to prove who the better wrestler is. But, because I want to be able to walk into that ring with him, and have a hell of a match with a man I consider a friend.”
Leon just nods.
“But, now onto the subject of Scott Lanegan and Eddie Jones,” Silver said it as if he were talking about breakfast. “Scott Lanegan is a worthless piece of shit, a failure in everything he has done so far. His rock band, failed. His career as a drug addict, failed. And, now his career as a wrestler, it is certainly starting to look like another failure. He was tossed around the ring by Kaleb Shadix, beaten by a skinny English guy, and a towering moron in the AAA medallion match, and his only tag team win came from interference from The Order. And, after this match at The Road to Reckless Abandon, his singles career will be a failure too. I would honestly advise that he quit while he’s ahead, unless he wants to be facing Shadow for the rest of his career. And, now on to Eddie Jones, Power On Wrestling’s second biggest paper champion. The only match this guy has won in the last three weeks was the number one contender for the TV Title against Flap Flanagan. Hell, he was even outlasted by a girl in the AAA Medallion match at Legendaria. I really doubt he will be of much consequence in the actual Title match. Maybe, he and Scott should team up, and feud with The Order after I win the Television Title, just so they can rack up some wins.” Silver finished, and smiled as he continued driving.
____________________________________________________
For the next two hours the pair in the truck tried to carry on small talk to combat the still hanging dread, but it didn’t work. On the last hour of the trip they both sat almost perfectly still, and contemplated what the silence could mean. Nothing very pleasant came to either’s mind, and they knew that only time would tell what the silence truly meant.
____________________________________________________
At long last the lights of Las Vegas greeted the weary travelers’ eyes, and a cold determination set into both of them. A determination to weed out the evil of Purity, and put a stop to it once and for all, avenging the death of their parents.
Silver drove cautiously, remembering what had happened to him the last time he was attacked by the Purity bastards. He made a left, and watched his rear view mirror closely, hoping to spot a trailing vehicle before it rear ended him. Nothing but a large red and blue semi met his gaze. A short, detailed, study of the driver told Silver all he needed to know about him. The truck’s driver was in is mid- to late-thirties, over weight, balding, and wearing a bright red and black flannel shirt with the arms ripped off. Silver knew from the last time he had met with purity, that this guy was certainly not a member.
“LOOK OUT!!!” Leon shouts frantically pointing out the windshield. Silver’s eyes jerk back to the big window, and shudders. Six men, in black suits, stand in the middle of the road, each of them pointing a rifle at Silver’s brand new truck. Behind them two massive garbage trucks, parked nose to nose, block the way.
“F**king PURITY!!!” Silver shouts, and slams the gas pedal to the ground. The trucks engine roars, as Leon looks at Silver like he’s crazy.
“The F**K YOU DOIN?!?!” Leon yells, as the truck gets closer and close to the impromptu road block. Silver ignores the question and sets the cruise control on accelerate, looking up Silver carefully lines the truck up to hit at least two of the assassins.
“Get ready to jump!” Silver says to his half-brother. “NOW!” The pair of them shoves their doors open and leap out of the vehicle. Silver lands and rolls, the impact of the fall being absorbed by the motion, but Leon isn’t as lucky. He slams hard into the ground, left leg first. The bone snaps, but the snap isn’t audible over the twisted sounds of crunching metal, and one man’s crys of anguish as the speeding truck steal his life away. The driver of the semi slams onto the brake pedal, but it isn’t enough. His brakes burn up, and his momentum builds. The-eighteen-wheeler slams into Silver’s truck with the force of a run away freight train, pankcaking the smaller vehicle, and killing the hapless driver.
Silver leapt to his feet as two men approached him, both of their guns had been mangled in the crash, but it still looked like they were up for a fight.
“You bitches have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Silver said, as they approached him. He ran at the one closest to him, and slammed his fist right into the man’s face. The suited man back pedaled from the attack, and his partner swung a well aimed punch at Silver’s chest, but the twenty-one year old dodged the blow, and responded by kicking the other suited guy in the knee. A pop sounded from the joint, and the man dropped. Silver, taking the advantage, quickly began to pound on the downed man’s already injured knee. One half of the tag team champs seemed to forget about the other attacker, but when he charged Silver reversed the momentum on his next stomp, and kicked the man square in the groin. The attacker fell, and Silver looked down at the man in front of him. Hate filled Silver’s eyes, as he knelt down to him. “Were you their when my Mom and Dad died?” Silver asked the unconscious man. “Don’t want to answer? Fine! You die anyway.” Silver’s hands wrapped themselves around the man’s thick muscular throat, and began to squeeze the life out of him. Even unconscious, the man sputtered for air, but it wouldn’t come. Silver could feel his victim’s pulse slowing, he could feel his victim’s life ebbing away, and he found that the feeling was almost orgasmic. Finally the man’s body slumped, and the feeling went away, so Silver turned to his next target.
Blood, or urine, soaked the other’s pants. He had attempted to crawl away from the nearly insane Silver. “Where do you think you’re going?” The twenty-one year old mocked him. “I know, I know,” Silver started, imitating a little child in school. “You’re going to go to hell!”
Silver walked to him, and again knelt beside him. The man looked at Silver, his eyes pleading for mercy. A sickened expression passed over Silver’s face as he grabbed the man by his hair. With a great pull, Silver yanked him around so that his back was to the wrestler, nearly pulling his hair out in the process. Silver’s hand remained clamped to his hair, as he reached around and took hold of the man’s chin. “I don’t believe in mercy.” Silver whispered into his second victim’s ear, as he violently twisted his arms around, nearly turning the man’s head a complete one-hundred-and-eighty degrees.
____________________________________________________
Leon looks up at the three men standing over top of him. Only one of them still has a gun, and Leon now understands why the feeling of dread bothered him more than it did Silver. The giant of a man stared down the barrel of the gun, and quickly did two things in his mind, as the man standing above him began to squeeze the rifles trigger. First, he made his peace with God, and second he apologized to Silver, for not being there for his title match. The scene fades to black as a single gun shot rings out through the city streets.