Post by "The" Kobra on Aug 4, 2007 15:36:25 GMT -5
“The distance between insanity and genius is measured only
Yellow streetlight glow seeped though the curtains and illuminated the hardened face of The Kobra as he lay in bed. wearing his usual blue hooded jacket, long blue pants, and face mask minus his usual sunglasses. His gray almost colourless, wolf like eyes were open unnaturally wide, they glinted in the light. His pupils black, soulless, dilated. A non-descript brown pharmaceutical container lay discarded, open and empty on the night stand beside him. He stared at the ceiling but in truth he stared at nothing, his mind was elsewhere, his mind was everywhere.
The woman next to him lay on her stomach, face enveloped in a pillow and a blanket haphazardly covering her lower half. He had been rough with her; she had bleed for her money tonight.
The pain that had lingered deep down in his muscles and bones since his epic battle with Jack Evans had moments ago seemingly liquefied and washed away, his heart hammered against his chest in a slow steady rhythm. Times like these were the only moments that he never felt at ease, that burning rotting hatred that drove him forward with such venom and desire was pushed to the side by a drug induced haze.
In his mind’s eyes he saw his crimes, his accomplishments. He could see the people whose lives he’s cured, the people touched by his vaccine of wrestling; he could almost smell their fear, sense their hate and taste their tears. At this moment in time, he saw a girl. A untainted beauty, blonde hair seemingly spun from gold, her ice-blue eyes that enraptured and encaptured him, he felt the animalistic want that filled him when he saw her all those years ago. The spellbinding symmetry of her face, he could draw the lines and contours of her body from memory, he knew every inch of her. In a flash he saw her tears, he heard her screams, and he felt her hair as he gripped it in his hand and pulled her head back. He remembered the relish that he had ripped at her clothes with, he remembered the feel of his hand as it made forceful contact with her virgin cheek, he could taste her blood, and he could taste her still from all those years ago. That was first appearance of the monster that he always had contained from within his own self and cured with his "mission", the monster he had extinguished and been replaced by The Almighty who has brought him to the top of Xtremely Violent Intent, the The Almighty that has made him champion of the people and soon to be champion of the XVI itself. A terrible beauty was born that night. The Cure was born from glory of The Almighty to cure the world and wrestling world of the venoms that pleague them.
The room was silent.
The only sound that disturbs the eerie silence in the room for the rest of the night was one word, a whisper, almost inaudible, almost forgotten.
“Kobra….”
Hours later and the yellow glare of the streetlight has been replaced by the yellow glare of morning sunlight creeping into the room, he was alone now. The silence that had been so vast hours earlier was now punctured by the muffled ringing sound of a mobile phone emanating somewhere in the run.
With a grunt The Cur eknown as The Kobra rolled onto his left side and from the floor picked up his jeans, he reached inside one of the pockets and removed his phone, he slide it open before putting it to his ear.
“Yes?”
“We have him.”
The voice on the other side of the line while attempting to sound calm and collected still betrayed an undertones of pride and accomplishment. Kobra sat up onto the side of the small bed before switching the phone to speaker and placing it down next to the empty container of pills on the night stand.
“Where?”
He stood up and was already in the process of getting dressed by the time the other man answered his query.
“The gym in the backroom just liked you asked”
A sick smile spread across the hardened face of The XVI Rookie, he remained silent for several minutes as he closed his black leather belt and readjusted the sterling silver Swastika buckle.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes; I want nobody else there when I arrive”
“Yes Boss.”
After pulling a black t-shirt down over his numerous scars and tattoos that criss-crossed his muscular upper body Kobra shot a glance over at the night stand.
“One more thing, get a hold of Jessica. I need more stuff...”
***
CALIFORNIA COUNTY DEPARTMENT OF MENTAL HEALTH
Attn: Jessica, M.D., Ph. D.
Jessica
The following is in regards to the recent psychological evaluation that you asked me to carry out on "The" Kobra (hereby referred to as Patient/the Patient) on your behalf because of a request for the Patient employer, Xtremely Violent Intent inc.
Patient in his early twenties has a history of violent crime and is suspected of being steeped in some kind of organised crime.
Patient is extremely calculating and distant with underlined aggression apparent. Narcotic and/or amphetamine and/or substance abuse is evident.
His mental health shows signs of severe repression and possible bi-polar disorder with a very high treat level. The Patient also shows clear signs of delusion and seems to be losing his grip on reality; this could be due to his substance abuse or due to the physical injuries or trauma that he may how suffered in his line of work.
I request that the monthly observations be continued under your supervision until further notice.
Patient history summary both medical and criminal are enclosed.
Please forward all future assessments to me, c.c to Jason Roy, CEO of Xtremely Violent Intent and "The Don" Makaveli, GM of XVI Side Effect respectively.
Rgds.
W.K./p.l.
***
It was in this vast derelict looking gym that he had honed his craft; it was here he became TheKobra: The Cure to Greedy Wrestling; it was inside this whitewashed walled room that he had evolved from the mortal Koske Osizuki into the The Cure To Your Venoml The Kobra. The building seemed empty but he knew the truth, there was someone waiting for him, someone he had sent for.
He found him sitting alone in one of the tiled back rooms which were hardly used for anything other than storage of broken equipment and various other objects these days. The windows had been crudely boarded up with large planks of discoloured wood but little sunlight crept in, the smell of damp only added ot the atmosphere of the room.
Kobra's guest didn’t rise to greet him; he didn’t even raise his head when he walked into the room though he may have if he could. His hands were bound behind him and further fastened to the chair in which he sat, as were his legs. Acrude and filthy looking brown canvas sack had been placed over his head. His head hung limply, his chin resting on his broad chest; a dark red stain was visible on the area of the sack that covered the back of his head. Calmly the skinhead moved towards the unconscious man, he begin to circle the chair like a wolf would circle its injured pray, he did this for a few minutes before once again moving to the front of the chair. Without warning Kobra drew his hand back and then smacked the man across the face with such force that the chair in which the man sat nearly toppled over. The bound man let out a muffled grunt and raised his head for the first time, this was followed by more muffled shouts and indecipherable words.
They had taped his mouth shut as he had asked. The Kobra moved to the side of the room proceeds to loudly drag a chair to the centre of the floor, placing it facing the bound man before sitting down.
“Hello LORD"
***
Smoke fills the worn-down interior of this rural bar as well as the lungs of the three men and an oddly dressed women who find themselves there at this moment in time. The old weathered balding barman, leans against one of the large fridges behind him as he flicks through yesterdays paper, today is a slow day, yesterday was a slow day and tomorrow will probably follow suit. In a corner booth, a man who smells more of whiskey than his empty glass lies face down in his own warm droll, his scraggly matted dirty hair obscuring what is sure to be a gnarled face. The man who sits at the alone at the bar is nursing a large glass of whiskey, half drained. A black cowboy hat sits next to him atop of the a replic aof the XVI World title belt; his eyes are vacant but tell stories that no words could do justice to.
Jessica "Vyper" Nash eyes turn to the door as soon as she hears it opening.
***
A glint was clear to see in the eyes of the former DWA World Champion. he watched the man in sitting in front of him.
“I really hope the boys weren’t too rough with you "The Lord Himslef...The Allmighty”
A unnatural sick smile spreads across the face of the skinhead.
“Though it looks like you took a nasty blow to the back of your head there. It doesn’t matter you’re a tough son of a bitch aren’t you?”
“I brought you here because I needed to talk to you; I needed to get some things of my chest Koske. I’ve been watching you; I’ve looked into your past, oh what a sordid dark tale it is. Your moral ambiguity intrigues me Kobra, you have gone so far in this company without fully showing your hand, you haven’t truly pledge an allegiance to anyone and those people who you’ve associated yourself with have felt terrible pain as a result of your actions and in some cases your inactions. In a way I become obsessed with you.”
“I thought that at first you were a pure and that maybe you could be converted into a proud Chosen One, and that when you came to your senses you would seek me out and join my quest and mission i have set forth for thy but that wasn’t to be. As I delved deeper into your past I learnt that your blood was tarnished, impure. Your blood wasn’t pure enough or strong enough to save your unborn child’s life was it? The child had to be ripped callously and unceremoniously out of your woman’s womb and thrown away described forgotten about. Do you carry that burden Kobra, do you? Does it keep you awake at night knowing that you could have had a child, a little boy? Instead what do you have, nothing, the bastardized foetus was probably thrown in the nearest dumpster and what about the woman, your love? Rotting in plywood box? Ah don’t you have an exceptional history with women, where is Janine…ah yes that’s right she is now in the arms of a truly evil man, a man who doesn’t hide behind moral ambiguity , a great man.”
Through this all the bound twisted and turned turning to free himself from his restraints, the rope was coarse and tight, it cut into his skin, the more he struggled the more it hurt. Despite it’s futility he continued to scream at his captor only to have them muffled by the tape covering his mouth.
“I have something for you cowboy.”
Kobra was on back on his feet, the bound man lifted his head and stared blindly at the source of the voice and followed the sound of his footsteps as much as he could as they made their way towards the wall behind him where there was a table covered in a dirty brown-with-damp sheet. The Chosen One gripped one corner of the stained sheet and lifted it slightly; he then pauses for a moment before turning to address his prisoner again.
“Can I tell you something Kobra?”
Kobra stares at the back of the bound man’s head as if expecting an answer.
“As you lay in the hospital bed attached to all those machines that worked to keep me alive after Brian Variety and Justin Evans unfortunate deliverance. I had an epiphany. I had a moment of clarity and everything that I saw become so clear, I knew my purpose, I realised what I was and what I had to do but every since that day I have struggled, I feel that a stand on both the cusp of genius and the cusp of insanity. But why am I telling you this at all LORD, we should get down to business.”
With a flourish Kobra removes the sheet from the table and allows it to fall to the floor. On the table lie several instruments of torture, knives from short to long and smooth to barbed edged, thumb screws, hooks and sadistic implements of terror. The Almighty LORD lets his hand run over the objects on the table in front of him like he would run his hand over a the top of long grass.
“You hold the only thing that I have ever truly desired in this company, LORD. The Wolrd Title title is like a contract, that contract states that by holding this belt you are subjecting yourself to pain the likes of which you have never experienced, hell on earth, death without death. I thought that I should show you what you can look forward to during your reign. It's a legacy my father died for and i will do just the same in retrospect too become pure and prove i am the chosen one of the lecacy and grand design my father concocted and passed to you for me.”
Lifting a machete like blade up to face level, Kobra stares at his slightly distorted reflection of his battle scared and hardened visage.
“I have yet to find anything to match the elogant pleasure of curing greed LORD, my heart is black, my soul is damaged but when I experience the euphoria of slicing flesh, drawing blood, causing agony it ignites me…it’s the only time when I truly feel alive My own wrestling doe sthis not becaus ei am a psychopath, but merely because i enjoy wrestling and if i can not do these things than i truely have not acheieved the ultimate level of a match.”
Placing the machete back down onto the table he moves and picks up a small surgical blade, a smile cracks his face. He has found what he needs. The glinting edge of the blade is reflected in the vast cold abyss of his soulless, "enlightened" eyes.
***
The two men who entered the bar were about as similar as chalk and cheese. The only thing that they had in common was that they both sported skinned heads. Kobra smiled to himself when he saw them; he knew that the odds of his opponents sending someone after him was high, he was ready. He pushed his half-finished whiskey glass to the side and reached forward and grabs the neck of an empty beer bottle and quickly brought it down to his side. The skinhead closest to him was extremely over weight, his man breast were clearly evident through the black t-shirt that he wore over his baggy 42 inch waist jeans. He wore a scowl as he seemingly searched the room, his gaze passed overThe Almighty the same as it past over the other two men in the bar. His partner, a skinny oddly dressed women known to all as Jessica had proceeded to go straight into the restroom as soon as she had entered and hadn’t returned yet. The barman asked the man mountain blocking the only entrance and exiting out of the place if he wanted a drink, the skinhead grunted a no and the barman went back to his paper. Kobra gripped the bottle tightly as the LORD just sat there smirking at the whole situation continuing to drink his vodka; Kobra had a feeling that it wouldn’t be a hangover bothering him in the morning but entirely different kind of head pain.
***
Kobra retook his seat in front of the bound man surgical scalpel in hand. Low indistinct panicked ramblings escaped the soiled canvas hood. The chair moved for side to side, seemingly in a vain attempt to topple the chair onto the grimy bloodstained floor and escape. A vicious Big Boot from "The Cure" The Kobra that connected with a sickening thud directly on the temple of the bound man stopped all movement and his head dropped down once more. The Skinhead towered over the bound man, staring down upon him.
“I planned on you being conscious for this but seeing as you can’t sit still, I’ll have to do it this way.”
Calculatingly he moved behind the bound man, he reached and grabbed on side of the canvas hood and pulled it up far enough as not to remove it but to expose the left ear of his prone prisoner. The blade lingered right below the ear lobe, micrometres away from contact, the air between blade and skin was electric with contact tension. The blade didn’t waver or shake, the Skinheads hand was calm and rock steady, his eyes fixed on the tip of the blade. With his free hand he reached up and grabs the outer edge of the ear in a vice grip and pulled it away from the skull stretching it tight. Slowly he brought the blade into contact with the loose fleshy skin connecting lobe to skull; a trickle of blood ran down either side of the cutting edge as soon as it made toughed the skin.
***
The sickening women had returned from the restroom and was locked in hushed whispered conversation with her behemoth of a partner. jessica watched them out of the corner of her eye as he slipped his free hand down the side of his leg until he got to her ankle, she reached two fingers down into the sock and in one fluid motion pulled out a flick knife and concealed hit in his arm. The two men were still engaged in whispers, they hadn’t seen anything. Then something happened which surprised Kobra , the two men turned and exited the bar without warning and without a word. The door click shut loudly, Jessica smiled to hheself as he slipped her knife back into her show/sock and thought to herself smiling, better safe than sorry.
***
“FUCK!”
Kobra angrily pulled the blade away from the intact ear of the bound man, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone whose generic ringer had interrupted his impromptu cosmetic surgery. He slid it open and placed it to his ear.
“Yes..”
“We need to talk Daniel”
The voice on the other end of the line was instantaneously familiar.
“About what?”
“Let’s just say some child welfare issues have cropped up and we need to discuss them.”
Kobra paused for a moment until it finally clicked in his mind as to what was meant by the last sentence.
“I thought that was ancient history?”
A tone of disdain was evident in the words of the skinhead, not necessarily distain for the man he was talking to but more disdain for the situation.
“I will elaborate as soon as you get here.”
“Fine…”
The Chosen One slid the phone shut and returned it to his pocket, he gripped the surgical blade so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had turned white, and he looked down at the bound man once more.
“Sorry to cut this short…”
He swiftly and with great dexterity flicked the scalpel in his hand so that the blade portion was pointing downwards.
“…but other interests require my attention, here have this as a souvenir.”
Although muffled by the tape gag the scream that followed the driving of the blade into the tight of the bound man was nonetheless blood curdling. The excruciating pain that shot through his body shocked him from unconsciousness, he’s body tightened and rocked from side to side as his brain was set alight by the unbearable hurt rushing through him. Unnerved Kobra knelt down and grad the man’s head and brought his head towards him forcefully so he could talk into his ear.
“Next time I tell you to do something Keith, you do it. I will not accepted failure from you. If it happens again the next blade will be into your fucking jugular. Now stop whimpering…”
The Cure got to his feet, the bound man haunting muffled screams were still to be heard, blood poured from the area around the blade, the dark jeans he was wearing were now stained black with dark red with blood in that area. While turning for the door Kobra stopped and turned back, rapidly he lifted his leg and drove his face into the face of the screaming man knocking backwards, his skull cracked off the hard tiles and the impact of the kick knocked of the dirty canvas hood. He screamed no more, the pain would return upon consciousness. With a sick smile upon his face The Chosen One turned and left, the door loudly clicked shut behind him leaving Adema Aeries laying alone unconsciousness and bleeding out upon the cold hard stained floor of the dark room.
***
Have I lost my mind or just gained a new perspective?
To Be Continued
OCC sorry so alte posting been a rough week and i promsie i have atleast oen mrpoe comign.
Yellow streetlight glow seeped though the curtains and illuminated the hardened face of The Kobra as he lay in bed. wearing his usual blue hooded jacket, long blue pants, and face mask minus his usual sunglasses. His gray almost colourless, wolf like eyes were open unnaturally wide, they glinted in the light. His pupils black, soulless, dilated. A non-descript brown pharmaceutical container lay discarded, open and empty on the night stand beside him. He stared at the ceiling but in truth he stared at nothing, his mind was elsewhere, his mind was everywhere.
The woman next to him lay on her stomach, face enveloped in a pillow and a blanket haphazardly covering her lower half. He had been rough with her; she had bleed for her money tonight.
The pain that had lingered deep down in his muscles and bones since his epic battle with Jack Evans had moments ago seemingly liquefied and washed away, his heart hammered against his chest in a slow steady rhythm. Times like these were the only moments that he never felt at ease, that burning rotting hatred that drove him forward with such venom and desire was pushed to the side by a drug induced haze.
In his mind’s eyes he saw his crimes, his accomplishments. He could see the people whose lives he’s cured, the people touched by his vaccine of wrestling; he could almost smell their fear, sense their hate and taste their tears. At this moment in time, he saw a girl. A untainted beauty, blonde hair seemingly spun from gold, her ice-blue eyes that enraptured and encaptured him, he felt the animalistic want that filled him when he saw her all those years ago. The spellbinding symmetry of her face, he could draw the lines and contours of her body from memory, he knew every inch of her. In a flash he saw her tears, he heard her screams, and he felt her hair as he gripped it in his hand and pulled her head back. He remembered the relish that he had ripped at her clothes with, he remembered the feel of his hand as it made forceful contact with her virgin cheek, he could taste her blood, and he could taste her still from all those years ago. That was first appearance of the monster that he always had contained from within his own self and cured with his "mission", the monster he had extinguished and been replaced by The Almighty who has brought him to the top of Xtremely Violent Intent, the The Almighty that has made him champion of the people and soon to be champion of the XVI itself. A terrible beauty was born that night. The Cure was born from glory of The Almighty to cure the world and wrestling world of the venoms that pleague them.
The room was silent.
The only sound that disturbs the eerie silence in the room for the rest of the night was one word, a whisper, almost inaudible, almost forgotten.
“Kobra….”
Hours later and the yellow glare of the streetlight has been replaced by the yellow glare of morning sunlight creeping into the room, he was alone now. The silence that had been so vast hours earlier was now punctured by the muffled ringing sound of a mobile phone emanating somewhere in the run.
With a grunt The Cur eknown as The Kobra rolled onto his left side and from the floor picked up his jeans, he reached inside one of the pockets and removed his phone, he slide it open before putting it to his ear.
“Yes?”
“We have him.”
The voice on the other side of the line while attempting to sound calm and collected still betrayed an undertones of pride and accomplishment. Kobra sat up onto the side of the small bed before switching the phone to speaker and placing it down next to the empty container of pills on the night stand.
“Where?”
He stood up and was already in the process of getting dressed by the time the other man answered his query.
“The gym in the backroom just liked you asked”
A sick smile spread across the hardened face of The XVI Rookie, he remained silent for several minutes as he closed his black leather belt and readjusted the sterling silver Swastika buckle.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes; I want nobody else there when I arrive”
“Yes Boss.”
After pulling a black t-shirt down over his numerous scars and tattoos that criss-crossed his muscular upper body Kobra shot a glance over at the night stand.
“One more thing, get a hold of Jessica. I need more stuff...”
***
CALIFORNIA COUNTY DEPARTMENT OF MENTAL HEALTH
Attn: Jessica, M.D., Ph. D.
Jessica
The following is in regards to the recent psychological evaluation that you asked me to carry out on "The" Kobra (hereby referred to as Patient/the Patient) on your behalf because of a request for the Patient employer, Xtremely Violent Intent inc.
Patient in his early twenties has a history of violent crime and is suspected of being steeped in some kind of organised crime.
Patient is extremely calculating and distant with underlined aggression apparent. Narcotic and/or amphetamine and/or substance abuse is evident.
His mental health shows signs of severe repression and possible bi-polar disorder with a very high treat level. The Patient also shows clear signs of delusion and seems to be losing his grip on reality; this could be due to his substance abuse or due to the physical injuries or trauma that he may how suffered in his line of work.
I request that the monthly observations be continued under your supervision until further notice.
Patient history summary both medical and criminal are enclosed.
Please forward all future assessments to me, c.c to Jason Roy, CEO of Xtremely Violent Intent and "The Don" Makaveli, GM of XVI Side Effect respectively.
Rgds.
W.K./p.l.
***
It was in this vast derelict looking gym that he had honed his craft; it was here he became TheKobra: The Cure to Greedy Wrestling; it was inside this whitewashed walled room that he had evolved from the mortal Koske Osizuki into the The Cure To Your Venoml The Kobra. The building seemed empty but he knew the truth, there was someone waiting for him, someone he had sent for.
He found him sitting alone in one of the tiled back rooms which were hardly used for anything other than storage of broken equipment and various other objects these days. The windows had been crudely boarded up with large planks of discoloured wood but little sunlight crept in, the smell of damp only added ot the atmosphere of the room.
Kobra's guest didn’t rise to greet him; he didn’t even raise his head when he walked into the room though he may have if he could. His hands were bound behind him and further fastened to the chair in which he sat, as were his legs. Acrude and filthy looking brown canvas sack had been placed over his head. His head hung limply, his chin resting on his broad chest; a dark red stain was visible on the area of the sack that covered the back of his head. Calmly the skinhead moved towards the unconscious man, he begin to circle the chair like a wolf would circle its injured pray, he did this for a few minutes before once again moving to the front of the chair. Without warning Kobra drew his hand back and then smacked the man across the face with such force that the chair in which the man sat nearly toppled over. The bound man let out a muffled grunt and raised his head for the first time, this was followed by more muffled shouts and indecipherable words.
They had taped his mouth shut as he had asked. The Kobra moved to the side of the room proceeds to loudly drag a chair to the centre of the floor, placing it facing the bound man before sitting down.
“Hello LORD"
***
Smoke fills the worn-down interior of this rural bar as well as the lungs of the three men and an oddly dressed women who find themselves there at this moment in time. The old weathered balding barman, leans against one of the large fridges behind him as he flicks through yesterdays paper, today is a slow day, yesterday was a slow day and tomorrow will probably follow suit. In a corner booth, a man who smells more of whiskey than his empty glass lies face down in his own warm droll, his scraggly matted dirty hair obscuring what is sure to be a gnarled face. The man who sits at the alone at the bar is nursing a large glass of whiskey, half drained. A black cowboy hat sits next to him atop of the a replic aof the XVI World title belt; his eyes are vacant but tell stories that no words could do justice to.
Jessica "Vyper" Nash eyes turn to the door as soon as she hears it opening.
***
A glint was clear to see in the eyes of the former DWA World Champion. he watched the man in sitting in front of him.
“I really hope the boys weren’t too rough with you "The Lord Himslef...The Allmighty”
A unnatural sick smile spreads across the face of the skinhead.
“Though it looks like you took a nasty blow to the back of your head there. It doesn’t matter you’re a tough son of a bitch aren’t you?”
“I brought you here because I needed to talk to you; I needed to get some things of my chest Koske. I’ve been watching you; I’ve looked into your past, oh what a sordid dark tale it is. Your moral ambiguity intrigues me Kobra, you have gone so far in this company without fully showing your hand, you haven’t truly pledge an allegiance to anyone and those people who you’ve associated yourself with have felt terrible pain as a result of your actions and in some cases your inactions. In a way I become obsessed with you.”
“I thought that at first you were a pure and that maybe you could be converted into a proud Chosen One, and that when you came to your senses you would seek me out and join my quest and mission i have set forth for thy but that wasn’t to be. As I delved deeper into your past I learnt that your blood was tarnished, impure. Your blood wasn’t pure enough or strong enough to save your unborn child’s life was it? The child had to be ripped callously and unceremoniously out of your woman’s womb and thrown away described forgotten about. Do you carry that burden Kobra, do you? Does it keep you awake at night knowing that you could have had a child, a little boy? Instead what do you have, nothing, the bastardized foetus was probably thrown in the nearest dumpster and what about the woman, your love? Rotting in plywood box? Ah don’t you have an exceptional history with women, where is Janine…ah yes that’s right she is now in the arms of a truly evil man, a man who doesn’t hide behind moral ambiguity , a great man.”
Through this all the bound twisted and turned turning to free himself from his restraints, the rope was coarse and tight, it cut into his skin, the more he struggled the more it hurt. Despite it’s futility he continued to scream at his captor only to have them muffled by the tape covering his mouth.
“I have something for you cowboy.”
Kobra was on back on his feet, the bound man lifted his head and stared blindly at the source of the voice and followed the sound of his footsteps as much as he could as they made their way towards the wall behind him where there was a table covered in a dirty brown-with-damp sheet. The Chosen One gripped one corner of the stained sheet and lifted it slightly; he then pauses for a moment before turning to address his prisoner again.
“Can I tell you something Kobra?”
Kobra stares at the back of the bound man’s head as if expecting an answer.
“As you lay in the hospital bed attached to all those machines that worked to keep me alive after Brian Variety and Justin Evans unfortunate deliverance. I had an epiphany. I had a moment of clarity and everything that I saw become so clear, I knew my purpose, I realised what I was and what I had to do but every since that day I have struggled, I feel that a stand on both the cusp of genius and the cusp of insanity. But why am I telling you this at all LORD, we should get down to business.”
With a flourish Kobra removes the sheet from the table and allows it to fall to the floor. On the table lie several instruments of torture, knives from short to long and smooth to barbed edged, thumb screws, hooks and sadistic implements of terror. The Almighty LORD lets his hand run over the objects on the table in front of him like he would run his hand over a the top of long grass.
“You hold the only thing that I have ever truly desired in this company, LORD. The Wolrd Title title is like a contract, that contract states that by holding this belt you are subjecting yourself to pain the likes of which you have never experienced, hell on earth, death without death. I thought that I should show you what you can look forward to during your reign. It's a legacy my father died for and i will do just the same in retrospect too become pure and prove i am the chosen one of the lecacy and grand design my father concocted and passed to you for me.”
Lifting a machete like blade up to face level, Kobra stares at his slightly distorted reflection of his battle scared and hardened visage.
“I have yet to find anything to match the elogant pleasure of curing greed LORD, my heart is black, my soul is damaged but when I experience the euphoria of slicing flesh, drawing blood, causing agony it ignites me…it’s the only time when I truly feel alive My own wrestling doe sthis not becaus ei am a psychopath, but merely because i enjoy wrestling and if i can not do these things than i truely have not acheieved the ultimate level of a match.”
Placing the machete back down onto the table he moves and picks up a small surgical blade, a smile cracks his face. He has found what he needs. The glinting edge of the blade is reflected in the vast cold abyss of his soulless, "enlightened" eyes.
***
The two men who entered the bar were about as similar as chalk and cheese. The only thing that they had in common was that they both sported skinned heads. Kobra smiled to himself when he saw them; he knew that the odds of his opponents sending someone after him was high, he was ready. He pushed his half-finished whiskey glass to the side and reached forward and grabs the neck of an empty beer bottle and quickly brought it down to his side. The skinhead closest to him was extremely over weight, his man breast were clearly evident through the black t-shirt that he wore over his baggy 42 inch waist jeans. He wore a scowl as he seemingly searched the room, his gaze passed overThe Almighty the same as it past over the other two men in the bar. His partner, a skinny oddly dressed women known to all as Jessica had proceeded to go straight into the restroom as soon as she had entered and hadn’t returned yet. The barman asked the man mountain blocking the only entrance and exiting out of the place if he wanted a drink, the skinhead grunted a no and the barman went back to his paper. Kobra gripped the bottle tightly as the LORD just sat there smirking at the whole situation continuing to drink his vodka; Kobra had a feeling that it wouldn’t be a hangover bothering him in the morning but entirely different kind of head pain.
***
Kobra retook his seat in front of the bound man surgical scalpel in hand. Low indistinct panicked ramblings escaped the soiled canvas hood. The chair moved for side to side, seemingly in a vain attempt to topple the chair onto the grimy bloodstained floor and escape. A vicious Big Boot from "The Cure" The Kobra that connected with a sickening thud directly on the temple of the bound man stopped all movement and his head dropped down once more. The Skinhead towered over the bound man, staring down upon him.
“I planned on you being conscious for this but seeing as you can’t sit still, I’ll have to do it this way.”
Calculatingly he moved behind the bound man, he reached and grabbed on side of the canvas hood and pulled it up far enough as not to remove it but to expose the left ear of his prone prisoner. The blade lingered right below the ear lobe, micrometres away from contact, the air between blade and skin was electric with contact tension. The blade didn’t waver or shake, the Skinheads hand was calm and rock steady, his eyes fixed on the tip of the blade. With his free hand he reached up and grabs the outer edge of the ear in a vice grip and pulled it away from the skull stretching it tight. Slowly he brought the blade into contact with the loose fleshy skin connecting lobe to skull; a trickle of blood ran down either side of the cutting edge as soon as it made toughed the skin.
***
The sickening women had returned from the restroom and was locked in hushed whispered conversation with her behemoth of a partner. jessica watched them out of the corner of her eye as he slipped his free hand down the side of his leg until he got to her ankle, she reached two fingers down into the sock and in one fluid motion pulled out a flick knife and concealed hit in his arm. The two men were still engaged in whispers, they hadn’t seen anything. Then something happened which surprised Kobra , the two men turned and exited the bar without warning and without a word. The door click shut loudly, Jessica smiled to hheself as he slipped her knife back into her show/sock and thought to herself smiling, better safe than sorry.
***
“FUCK!”
Kobra angrily pulled the blade away from the intact ear of the bound man, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone whose generic ringer had interrupted his impromptu cosmetic surgery. He slid it open and placed it to his ear.
“Yes..”
“We need to talk Daniel”
The voice on the other end of the line was instantaneously familiar.
“About what?”
“Let’s just say some child welfare issues have cropped up and we need to discuss them.”
Kobra paused for a moment until it finally clicked in his mind as to what was meant by the last sentence.
“I thought that was ancient history?”
A tone of disdain was evident in the words of the skinhead, not necessarily distain for the man he was talking to but more disdain for the situation.
“I will elaborate as soon as you get here.”
“Fine…”
The Chosen One slid the phone shut and returned it to his pocket, he gripped the surgical blade so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had turned white, and he looked down at the bound man once more.
“Sorry to cut this short…”
He swiftly and with great dexterity flicked the scalpel in his hand so that the blade portion was pointing downwards.
“…but other interests require my attention, here have this as a souvenir.”
Although muffled by the tape gag the scream that followed the driving of the blade into the tight of the bound man was nonetheless blood curdling. The excruciating pain that shot through his body shocked him from unconsciousness, he’s body tightened and rocked from side to side as his brain was set alight by the unbearable hurt rushing through him. Unnerved Kobra knelt down and grad the man’s head and brought his head towards him forcefully so he could talk into his ear.
“Next time I tell you to do something Keith, you do it. I will not accepted failure from you. If it happens again the next blade will be into your fucking jugular. Now stop whimpering…”
The Cure got to his feet, the bound man haunting muffled screams were still to be heard, blood poured from the area around the blade, the dark jeans he was wearing were now stained black with dark red with blood in that area. While turning for the door Kobra stopped and turned back, rapidly he lifted his leg and drove his face into the face of the screaming man knocking backwards, his skull cracked off the hard tiles and the impact of the kick knocked of the dirty canvas hood. He screamed no more, the pain would return upon consciousness. With a sick smile upon his face The Chosen One turned and left, the door loudly clicked shut behind him leaving Adema Aeries laying alone unconsciousness and bleeding out upon the cold hard stained floor of the dark room.
***
Have I lost my mind or just gained a new perspective?
To Be Continued
OCC sorry so alte posting been a rough week and i promsie i have atleast oen mrpoe comign.
