Post by MorningStar on Feb 1, 2007 20:00:43 GMT -5
What do you see when you stare into the mirror? The truth? The real you? Or maybe you see what the world sees. Maybe you see the façade you create to hide the real person from the prying eyes of humanity. Are you so shallow, so insecure in yourself that you start believing what you convince everyone to believe? But not everyone is like you. Some people see the world for what it really is. Some people can tear away your façade like so much rice paper, and see what you are, deep within. These people have the ability to see what down deep inside themselves, to confront theirs darkest secrets, and deal with them. Some of them though, just a small handful, smile at what they see. They grin and embrace the darkness… and it is with these very people our story begins…
The swirling, twisting coils of smoke trails of smoke languish in the air like translucent snakes. Around and around they spin, spiraling the flickering light bulb, wreathing it in a dark halo of cancerous brilliance. The paltry light filtered through illuminates the rest of the room, leaving the shadow wreathed corners in gloom, but lighting the burnt orange walls with a faint glow. Central in the room is a solid oak table, its finish stained and polished by a thousand rags worked by a hundred hands. Resting upon it are the usual paraphernalia of the common poker player, a deck of unmarked cards, a stack of black and white chips, and a bottle of poison, in this case absinthe. This isn’t the friday night binge drinkers Absinthe though, this is the real thing. A small but beautifully worked silver pot stands next to it, a shallow spoon dug deep into the crystal sugar it contains…
Perched in the sterling silver ashtray is the source of the noxious cloud of smoke, a thin unfiltered cigar, burning evenly into black-grey ash. A thin fingered, clawed hand reaches in and pinches the cigar delicately, lifting it to cruel lips twisted into a rictus of a smile. “The MorningStar” Johnny Mental, glad in his black mesh top and baggy combats, leans back in his chair and sips his steaming Emerald Wine, before allowing the smoke to trail from his lips with a hiss of pleasure. Hollow eyes stare through bone mask, boring into the opposite wall…
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Five have now fallen, whilst four more continue to the next stage… the next step to the ultimate glory. I realize now exactly what I’ve lost. More than once Omarion almost had me, despite my best efforts. Maybe I’m not as good as I profess to be, maybe without Him, I AM nothing…
Mental delicately taps the cigar against the ashtray, allowing the glowing tip to breathe for a brief few seconds, before it too dies and turns once more to dead, grey ash. He sighs as he stares at the barren walls, one finger tapping against the edge of his cut crystal glass.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
So much power… so many names… the XVI is wrought with powerful names from the past. Genocide, who’s game is far better than once it was. The Convict, whom I’ve never had the pleasure of facing. The Dark HalO… an old partner in crime. Then, there’s the VNB… a power so great that it once toppled The MorningStar. So much, so many… how can one compete? Had can one man stand against the flood and survive?
Draining his glass, Mental replaces it upon the table and leans forward, elbows on the surface and fingers ponderously raised to his lips, forehead furrowing into a frown. A deep breathe on contemplative sighing…
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
One man against the world, a lone human against the power of the many, the power of the gods. It no longer becomes a question of winning or losing, it becomes a question of survival…but how can one man survive? Heh, do you REALLY think I’d be going this alone? Do you really think that I’d take on the might of such a world by myself? No, I’m not about to go running to The Corpse and HalO, begging them to take me back to the folds of the D.O.A. No, I’m not about to bend knee to Jihad and Fade and beg for their patronage. No, I’m not going to run around the world, looking for people who will follow me, using me as a way to gain the upper echelons of power in this business… No. I turn to the one person who, through thick and thin, has been at my side for no other reason than friendship and brotherhood. I turn to the past, to a memory… To The Phoenix himself.
Mental looks up, eyes alight with life and grin ear to ear. Leaning against the door frame, clad in almost identical garb to The MorningStar, stands a powerfully muscular man. His grin matches Mental’s in both size and glee. Unfolding his arms, Steven “The Phoenix” Frost. pads to the table, seating easily in the chair opposite Mental, and placing his own glass upon the table, a twin of the Mental drinks from.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
Four years ago, Johnny boy. Four years ago we broke into this scene… then broke it, eh? From day one we turned our backs to the world and DARED them to strike. Oh, and strike they did. But we never fell, did we mate? Never did we fall, eh? Me ‘n’ you kid, we took it to them, and we damned well won.
Charging the glass with Absinthe, both men take a sugar laden spoon, touching it briefly to the absinthe, allowing it to saturate with the viscous alcohol.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Aye, I remember. EWA was taken by storm, HIW we rocked to its very foundations. We did it all, mate, and we did it in record time. Things are different here though, names and faces you won’t recognize, people you’ve never seen wrestle. I know you like to scout them out, you sure you can handle them?
Mental rasps a match against its box, letting it flare brightly into life before dimming to a smaller flame. Quickly he touches the spoons full of sugar, watching the alcohol burn and the sugar caramalise. Frost just grins at Mental, shoulders shaking as he stifles laughter.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
Kid, there’s not a lot in the world I can’t do. Just you gimme a week or two, let me get back into ring shape, and we’ll be on our way back to the top. In the meantime though, I’ll make sure you got the muscle behind ya when ya need it. So who’ve you drawn this time?
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
A kid called Calaz… from what I’ve seen he’s capable of some pretty insane stuff…
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
HA! Johnny, YOU spaking about people doing crazy stuff? When we split ways kid, you didn’t exactly stay on the straight and narrow yourself, y’know…
Frost winks to show he’s just ribbing, whilst Johnny smiles ruefully and drops his head.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Come on, Steve, ya know what was going on. That’s all changed now. Truth to tell, I’m a bit worried. Calaz was throwing some pretty wild stuff out last week… I don’t really know if now… He’s gone… I can match it.
Frost remains silent for a good few minutes, staring at the flaming spoon before tilting it and dropping it in the absinthe. Swiftly the potent spirit catches flame, and Frost waves the spoon rapidly to extinguish the flame. Mental copies the movement, until both glasses are flaming wildly.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
That’s not the Johnny Mental I know… Christ, that’s not even the Johnathan Reeves I know! Mate, you’ve been to hell and back, possibly quite literally. Sure, you’re gonna be a bit worried about coming back and not being what ya once were. But us as a team was just that, a team. We didn’t rule just ‘cos of me, ya know. I mean Christ, who was it who took the EWA title? Sure as hell wasn’t me! You’ve always had it in you, but it’s about bloody time you stopped being an emo bitch let it out!
A frown furrows the face of Mental as he recollects the moment, beating five others in a brutally vicious match. The blood, the tears, the pain and the suffering… followed by the elation of knowing he was, indeed, the best. His stomach starts rumbling with mirth, until he can no longer contain it, and rich, vibrant laughter rings out, peal upon peal.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Dude, you’ve got a point. I’ve been so worried about the last few years, I’d forgotten all about what it was like before that. Calaz might have some skills, but there are only three people walking who can stop me, and one of them is sat right opposite me. Let him throw his high flying shit at me, I'll show him the REAL meaning of high fucking risk. Cheers man, I knew I could rely on you. How about a toast eh? To old times and better days? To new times and new titles?
Picking up his glass and blowing out the flame, Frost raises his glass in salute; a move copied by mental until both glasses clink…
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
How about… Here’s to The Nightbreed. May the night be long and the enemies many.
With an acknowledging nod, Mental salutes the toast, and both drain their glasses, followed by a visible wince from the fiery spirit. Ladies and gentlemen, darkness has fallen once more, and the children of the night again begin to sing the chorus of the night…
May their song never end…
[/b][/i][/center]The swirling, twisting coils of smoke trails of smoke languish in the air like translucent snakes. Around and around they spin, spiraling the flickering light bulb, wreathing it in a dark halo of cancerous brilliance. The paltry light filtered through illuminates the rest of the room, leaving the shadow wreathed corners in gloom, but lighting the burnt orange walls with a faint glow. Central in the room is a solid oak table, its finish stained and polished by a thousand rags worked by a hundred hands. Resting upon it are the usual paraphernalia of the common poker player, a deck of unmarked cards, a stack of black and white chips, and a bottle of poison, in this case absinthe. This isn’t the friday night binge drinkers Absinthe though, this is the real thing. A small but beautifully worked silver pot stands next to it, a shallow spoon dug deep into the crystal sugar it contains…
Perched in the sterling silver ashtray is the source of the noxious cloud of smoke, a thin unfiltered cigar, burning evenly into black-grey ash. A thin fingered, clawed hand reaches in and pinches the cigar delicately, lifting it to cruel lips twisted into a rictus of a smile. “The MorningStar” Johnny Mental, glad in his black mesh top and baggy combats, leans back in his chair and sips his steaming Emerald Wine, before allowing the smoke to trail from his lips with a hiss of pleasure. Hollow eyes stare through bone mask, boring into the opposite wall…
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Five have now fallen, whilst four more continue to the next stage… the next step to the ultimate glory. I realize now exactly what I’ve lost. More than once Omarion almost had me, despite my best efforts. Maybe I’m not as good as I profess to be, maybe without Him, I AM nothing…
Mental delicately taps the cigar against the ashtray, allowing the glowing tip to breathe for a brief few seconds, before it too dies and turns once more to dead, grey ash. He sighs as he stares at the barren walls, one finger tapping against the edge of his cut crystal glass.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
So much power… so many names… the XVI is wrought with powerful names from the past. Genocide, who’s game is far better than once it was. The Convict, whom I’ve never had the pleasure of facing. The Dark HalO… an old partner in crime. Then, there’s the VNB… a power so great that it once toppled The MorningStar. So much, so many… how can one compete? Had can one man stand against the flood and survive?
Draining his glass, Mental replaces it upon the table and leans forward, elbows on the surface and fingers ponderously raised to his lips, forehead furrowing into a frown. A deep breathe on contemplative sighing…
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
One man against the world, a lone human against the power of the many, the power of the gods. It no longer becomes a question of winning or losing, it becomes a question of survival…but how can one man survive? Heh, do you REALLY think I’d be going this alone? Do you really think that I’d take on the might of such a world by myself? No, I’m not about to go running to The Corpse and HalO, begging them to take me back to the folds of the D.O.A. No, I’m not about to bend knee to Jihad and Fade and beg for their patronage. No, I’m not going to run around the world, looking for people who will follow me, using me as a way to gain the upper echelons of power in this business… No. I turn to the one person who, through thick and thin, has been at my side for no other reason than friendship and brotherhood. I turn to the past, to a memory… To The Phoenix himself.
Mental looks up, eyes alight with life and grin ear to ear. Leaning against the door frame, clad in almost identical garb to The MorningStar, stands a powerfully muscular man. His grin matches Mental’s in both size and glee. Unfolding his arms, Steven “The Phoenix” Frost. pads to the table, seating easily in the chair opposite Mental, and placing his own glass upon the table, a twin of the Mental drinks from.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
Four years ago, Johnny boy. Four years ago we broke into this scene… then broke it, eh? From day one we turned our backs to the world and DARED them to strike. Oh, and strike they did. But we never fell, did we mate? Never did we fall, eh? Me ‘n’ you kid, we took it to them, and we damned well won.
Charging the glass with Absinthe, both men take a sugar laden spoon, touching it briefly to the absinthe, allowing it to saturate with the viscous alcohol.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Aye, I remember. EWA was taken by storm, HIW we rocked to its very foundations. We did it all, mate, and we did it in record time. Things are different here though, names and faces you won’t recognize, people you’ve never seen wrestle. I know you like to scout them out, you sure you can handle them?
Mental rasps a match against its box, letting it flare brightly into life before dimming to a smaller flame. Quickly he touches the spoons full of sugar, watching the alcohol burn and the sugar caramalise. Frost just grins at Mental, shoulders shaking as he stifles laughter.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
Kid, there’s not a lot in the world I can’t do. Just you gimme a week or two, let me get back into ring shape, and we’ll be on our way back to the top. In the meantime though, I’ll make sure you got the muscle behind ya when ya need it. So who’ve you drawn this time?
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
A kid called Calaz… from what I’ve seen he’s capable of some pretty insane stuff…
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
HA! Johnny, YOU spaking about people doing crazy stuff? When we split ways kid, you didn’t exactly stay on the straight and narrow yourself, y’know…
Frost winks to show he’s just ribbing, whilst Johnny smiles ruefully and drops his head.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Come on, Steve, ya know what was going on. That’s all changed now. Truth to tell, I’m a bit worried. Calaz was throwing some pretty wild stuff out last week… I don’t really know if now… He’s gone… I can match it.
Frost remains silent for a good few minutes, staring at the flaming spoon before tilting it and dropping it in the absinthe. Swiftly the potent spirit catches flame, and Frost waves the spoon rapidly to extinguish the flame. Mental copies the movement, until both glasses are flaming wildly.
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
That’s not the Johnny Mental I know… Christ, that’s not even the Johnathan Reeves I know! Mate, you’ve been to hell and back, possibly quite literally. Sure, you’re gonna be a bit worried about coming back and not being what ya once were. But us as a team was just that, a team. We didn’t rule just ‘cos of me, ya know. I mean Christ, who was it who took the EWA title? Sure as hell wasn’t me! You’ve always had it in you, but it’s about bloody time you stopped being an emo bitch let it out!
A frown furrows the face of Mental as he recollects the moment, beating five others in a brutally vicious match. The blood, the tears, the pain and the suffering… followed by the elation of knowing he was, indeed, the best. His stomach starts rumbling with mirth, until he can no longer contain it, and rich, vibrant laughter rings out, peal upon peal.
<|?|> The MorningStar <|?|>
Dude, you’ve got a point. I’ve been so worried about the last few years, I’d forgotten all about what it was like before that. Calaz might have some skills, but there are only three people walking who can stop me, and one of them is sat right opposite me. Let him throw his high flying shit at me, I'll show him the REAL meaning of high fucking risk. Cheers man, I knew I could rely on you. How about a toast eh? To old times and better days? To new times and new titles?
Picking up his glass and blowing out the flame, Frost raises his glass in salute; a move copied by mental until both glasses clink…
<|?|> The Phoenix <|?|>
How about… Here’s to The Nightbreed. May the night be long and the enemies many.
With an acknowledging nod, Mental salutes the toast, and both drain their glasses, followed by a visible wince from the fiery spirit. Ladies and gentlemen, darkness has fallen once more, and the children of the night again begin to sing the chorus of the night…
May their song never end…