Post by Syn on Aug 14, 2013 22:54:26 GMT -5
[OOC: It's kinda rushed, because I went and deleted it like an hour ago, but hopefully it's up to par. Good luck in the match, Danielle!]
The scene opened up on a stretch of road, just a short while after the Slamathon Pay-Per-View. The sound of a siren blaring could be heard over the engines of the cars that were driving, causing the drivers to stop where they were. Those sirens were very distinct, and more than likely belonged to an ambulance. This was confirmed as less than a second later, an ambulance truck drove into view and sped down the street, towards the direction of the nearest hospital. The scene shifted inside of the vehicle, where it seemed that everyone was in a panicked state. Laying there in the bed, was a young man who seemed to be in a bad way. He had the mangled remnants of his left eye dangling out of his socket, and torrents of blood had trailed out of his skull, and down his body, leaving him a bloody mess. The Paramedics that were inside were doing all they could to make sure that the young man would live to see tomorrow, but it looked as if he was not long for this world.
Paramedic One: We keep loosin’ him!
: [Quietly but forcefully] get him back. get him back, now!
He felt a hand slide into one of his own, holding it in a death grip as another voice came, this one a female. Even with his mind clouded and dazed by excruciating pain, a part of him, a part of his very soul, seemed to recognize the voice. He could her pain….pain she was feeling from him. Another voice was heard as he began to black out.
Paramedic Two: He’s lost a lot of blood from the destroyed eye, and the shards nicked a vein in his brain. We need to find a way to stop the bleeding, or this kid will die on us!
Brytain's grip on his hand tightens even more, and even when unconscious he could almost feel the air of she slowly forces herself to look at his bloody face. Everything was becoming very fuzzy, but he could make out what she was saying to him as he tried so desperately to cling to life.
Brytain: [whispering] Not like this, Michael. Fuck you. You don't get to leave me like this...
As she spoke these words, Syn seemed to be fading again. His pulse began to weaken, and the paramedics flew into a panic.
Paramedic One: Christ! The kid is fading again!
She squeezes his hand even harder, as though she can hold on tight enough to keep him there.
Brytain: [Pleadingly] No... please... don't do this. Michael, please... I-I need you.
The two paramedics were trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.
Paramedic Two: He's...he's fighting....but it doesn't look like he'll make it...
Brytain never took her eye off of him as she responded.
Brytain: [sharply] Yes... he WILL.
The first paramedic looked at her with a look of pity.
Paramedic One: The kid needs blood, or else he'll bleed out before they can fix him!
Brytain doesn't hesitate to hold her arm out.
Brytain: Then give him blood.
Paramedic two: Miss, we don't even know if his body will accept your blood.
Brytain stares him down.
Brytain: [calmly, but forcefully] I'm O Negative.
That was all that the two needed, before they began looking around for the equipment necessary to transfer blood.
Paramedic One: Quick, hook her up! We don't have much time!
Brytain doesn't flinch as they jab the needle into her arm, trying to hold back tears as she grips his hand tightly. Sticks a needle into Syn, and begins pumping blood into him. At the same time, they are trying to figure out a way of stopping the blood from where his left eye once was. A few tears slide down her cheeks as she begged desperately for him to come back to her, still holding onto his hand in a death grip.
Brytain: [pleading] Don't do this to me... please, Michael. I love you...
The paramedics couldn’t stop the bleeding fully, but managed to slow it down enough. But Syn has already lost a lot of blood, and his already pale skin had turned an unnatural, ghostly white. Brytain squeezes his hand tighter, at this point so far gone that all she can do is hold on to him and mumble "I love you" over and over again, hoping that maybe he'll hear her somehow. The finally make it to the hospital, with more medical personal arriving to help them and attempt to keep Syn stable in fear of losing him again. They disconnect Brytain and Syn by pulling the needles out of their arms, before they attempt to send Brytain into the emergency room. Syn is wheeled off to Surgery, with blood still pouring out of his eye socket as the Doctors rushed to save him, but to no avail.
At 7:35 PM on June 22nd, Michael Christopher Rollins, Known to the world as Syn, died on the operating table after going into shock.
(Syn POV)
I was forced to bite back a moan of agony as I felt myself slowly slipping back into consciousness, my mind a haze of pain from whatever it was that has happened to me. Slowly, I tried to open my eyes, managing to block out the sudden burst of pain that came with the action. I couldn’t see anything out of my left eye, which was the norm, but I was able to finally open the right and look around wearily at my surroundings. I was in a hospital room, hooked in to several machines and seemingly alone. There was no one else here. Slowly, I reached a hand up and yanked the wires out of my arm and off of my chest, and moved myself to where I was able to slowly stand up. Just as I did, I forced myself to pause, hearing movement outside of my room.
Syn: [Weakly] Show yourself….
When no one answered, I shakily stood up and wobbled slightly, before staggering slowly towards the door. Even with my mind being overwhelmed by the pain I felt, I still could not help but feel that something was off here. I could not remember what happened to me that landed me in the hospital in the first place, and the hospital seemed….quiet. Too quiet. My suspicions were confirmed as I reached the door and leaned against the door frame, not seeing anyone. It was as if this entire building was abandoned.
??: I’ve been waiting, Michael…
My entire body went numb as the soft and sweet, yet sinister voice echoed in my ears. It was a voice that I have come to know very well over a lifetime, yet I could not bring myself to believe that it was possible to hear it. Slowly, I turned my head to look in the direction of where the voice came from, and froze as my eyes locked on it’s source. It felt as if the very blood that pumped through my body had turned to ice as I stared right into a very familiar pair of bright, almost otherworldly green eyes that were shining brightly in amusement. I took one small step back in shock at who stood before me, silently asking myself if this was my mind playing tricks upon me or if it was truly real. Then, almost as my thoughts had been broadcasted to him, she spoke once more.
??: [Silkily] I’m Just as real as you are, Michael. You, of all people, should know that…
She slowly took one step forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he leered at me. I tried to move, but for some odd reason I could not. I tried to will my body to move, to step away from the man that was slowly sauntering towards me….but her gaze seemed to root me to the very spot where I stand.
Syn: [Hoarsely] No…..there is no way that this is possible…..You’re not real…
At this point, I was more or less trying to convince myself of that fact, despite the fact that she was literally standing at arm’s length away from me. Trying to convince myself that this thing that stood right in front of me could not possibly be made of flesh and bone, that she could not be real. The figure gave a chilling smile, before he slowly reached out. Instinctively, My entire body tensed as I waited to see what would happen. If this person was not real….was just an illusion as I thought she was, then she would not be able to make contact with me. Instead, to my confusion and horror, the hand caressed my Jaw lightly, proving me wrong. The hand suddenly grasped my Jaw slightly, forcing me to stare into the sharp, unearthly bright green eyes that I have known for nearly twenty-four years as the small smile on the woman’s face grew colder.
Maria: ……Oh, I am more than real, Michael. MUCH more…..
I said nothing as I stared into the eyes of…. My mother, standing within arm’s reach of me. Whatever confusion and horror I felt in that moment turned into bitter hatred as I stared into her eyes….the eyes I have inherited from her. The eyes that I look at every time that I glance into a mirror, that serve as a bitter reminder of who it is that I received them from.
Maria: I suppose you are wondering in that adorable little mind of yours exactly how this situation came to be, hmm?
My eyes never left hers as I stood my ground.
Syn: How …are you real? The last time that I checked, you were in an insane asylum, with your mind slowly giving way to the very madness –
She cut me off with an amused smile and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.
Maria: - That you yourself have been combating for four years, with this monster that you’ve tried shoving into the darkest recesses of your mind for your entire life.
I stopped speaking and glared at her, an audible growl escaping my lips as I spoke.
Syn: Do not be coy with me, woman.
She gave a little giggle, causing me to frown as the hold she had on my jaw seemed to tighten slightly. She stopped after a moment and gave me a look, akin to the look one would give a small child right before they explained something they did not understand.
Maria: [Chuckling] Now there, My Dear Boy, is the question. Why would you be meeting the entity that is the direct cause of every single thing in your life that has negatively impacted you and turned you into what you are today, even if I’m nothing more than a mental illusion? Why, of all people, would you see me at this moment in time?
I glared defiantly at her as I knocked her hand away from my face, now completely over the shock of seeing her again as the familiar feelings towards this woman….towards this thing that stood before me came back.
Syn: If I knew the answer to that one, “Mother” –
I spat out the word mother as if it were the foulest word that could ever come out of my mouth.
Syn: - then I would not be asking you, would I? Now, since you’ve managed to somehow invade my mind on an unconscious level, enlighten me. Why are you here?
Maria: [Softly] Oh, Michael. For all the knowledge and intelligence that you possess, you still don’t know how this has happened, do you? Such a pity, but since you asked so very nicely I suppose I can give you this…
She shook her head as the very familiar cold, emotionless smile made its way onto her face, causing me to fight back the urge to shiver at seeing it. I feared no man or woman that walked the earth….but even I was at a pause whenever confronted with this woman. Calmly, he reached up, showing me the hand that she had used moments earlier to grab hold of my chin. My eyes widened a fraction when I saw why she had held it up the way she did. The entire palm of her hand was covered in blood, my blood. Slowly, I reached my left hand up to my face and gently touched, before bringing it to my line of vision. It seemed like my entire hand was coated in blood. A horrible thought occurred to me, before I slowly brought myself up to look her right in the eyes.
Michael: ….Do…do you mean that I’m….?
I trailed off, horror coming into my being as I realized what had happened to me. She seemed to be more amused by my reaction than anything as she answered my unfinished question in that eerily calm and insufferable polite tone of voice.
Maria: Dead? Quite so, Michael. Seems that you have finally encountered your body’s limits on just how much pain you can withstand after all of this time. It’s such a pity as well. If you would have just made it one more day, you would have been able to just get surgery. At least then your risk would have been known instead of death.
Her smile turned particularly cold as she continued speaking.
Maria: And the cold, damning truth of it all? Is that this…this is all on your head, Michael. You went into this match against your better judgment, knowing that you could have just as easily forfeit your title, have the surgery done the next day as planned, and walked away. Walked away from all of this and lived another day. But you didn’t, did you? You chose to be a bloody fighter and take the match, and now you’ve gone and broken your promise to your dearly beloved.
I didn’t hear her at all as I just stood there, my mind refusing to process what it was that he has just told me as the memories of what happened to me finally managed to make themselves known. The Match, What had happened during it, and….my death.
Syn: No…..No….
Images of Brytain fluttered to the forefront of my mind, and I realized I would never see her again. As that thought passed through my mind, all of my sorrow, all of my sadness turned into anger and determination: Anger at the fact that I have broken my promise to her, and determined to somehow, SOMEWAY, change this.
Syn: [Hissing in anger] No….I refuse to end it like this. If I ever end it….it will be on MY terms.
As I said these words, something happened. It started out dull, but I started to feel a shock go through my body, causing me to drop to my knees. I felt another soon after, and I slowly began to realize exactly what it was: They were attempting to bring me back. Rather than fight against the pain, I decided to go along with it. Little by little, the hospital setting began to disappear and fade into darkness, along with the entirety of this “Dream Setting”. As I felt my mind drift off into unconsciousness once again, I could not help but utter one simple statement, with the image of the young woman whom had captured my heart in mind as I said it.
Syn: [Weakly] I….told you that I would come back…
[Wednesday, August 14th. Los Angeles, California]
I don’t know how long I was awake this day, or how long I’ve been thinking like this. My lip curled into a defiant sneer as I stared into the mirror, less than pleased with what I had become over the last several weeks. I have been conscious and quietly recovering from my injuries for the better part of the last six weeks, and I decided to return to the world just a few days ago with my return at Rapture. My body, while it seems that it is indeed recovering, was still very much badly damaged. My normally pale skin was a still a shade of ghostly white, having not gained very much color since my returning to the world of the living. My nerves were badly shot, to the point where I needed assistance of either a cane or another person to be able to walk around without feeling some pain or discomfort. There were a host of other injuries, and they did not appear to be going away anytime soon.
Syn: [Disgusted] Death has not been kind to me.
There is an old saying about how once you kill a man, you take away everything that he is: His hopes, his dreams, his plans all brought to a screeching halt along with his very life at the hands of his killer. But there is a question that I’ve been asking myself over and over again for the last month and a half. A question to that statement that has been burning at the very forefront of my mind, and I’ve not been able to find an answer to just yet, even though I’ve lived through this scenario.
What happens to the man who dies…..yet manages to draw breath once again?
Does he simply wander around aimlessly, contemplating all that he could have been? Or does he find a new purpose, something that keeps him going for the remainder of his existence? At one point in time…I didn’t mind the idea of death. The idea of the fact that I have made so many enemies that it seemed unlikely that I would see the age of 30. For so many years, I actually hoped for it and looked forward to the day where I may draw my last breath. The blissful release from an existence plagued by so much misery and pain, and the cold realization that. It was, in a way, a suicide by way of execution. But now…
Over the last few months….that desire to end things like that, to be killed within the ring or at the hand of an enemy, has lessened. I would even go so far as to say that I no longer want to die. All of my past suffering and such seemed to be all but a distant memory, faded far from my mind..all because of the woman who lay sleeping in the next room. I smiled, before turning out of the bathroom and limping out just as she seemed to be stirring. She untangled herself from the mass of sheets and covers on the bed, and reached for me. Once she discovered that I was not there, causing her to open her eyes, and looked right into mine.
Brytain: [Softly] Hey, you…
I give a small smile at the greeting as she sat up and stretched out slightly.
Syn: [Softly] ‘Lo Britain.
The very greeting I’ve become accustomed to over the last five months of being with one another. Slowly, I limped over to the bed, my cane tapping on the cool tile floor as I moved. I set it at the end of the bed as I slowly sat down, before returning the greeting in kind. Wraps her arms around him, nuzzling close to him and laying her head against his chest to feel his heart beat. I respond to the gesture by wrapping my arm around her and hugging her closer, placing my head to where hers was tucked under my chin, showing her affection as I possibly can.
Brytain: [Softly] Good Morning…
I absentmindedly began running a hand through her hair, giving a small sigh of content as we lay together.
Syn: Good Morning, Love.
Brytain: [Softly] What’re you doing up?
I continue running a hand through her hair and wonders if I should tell her why I was up. Moving to where I was comfortable, before I look down at her.
Syn: Just thinking of all that has happened as of late over the last two months…and how you’ve stuck with me through all of it.
She smiles at me, before nuzzling back into my side.
Brytain: [Softly] ...Never crossed my mind to do anything else.
I gave the smallest of smiles, before I resume my actions.
Syn: I'm lucky to call you my wife, My Brytain...
She gave me a loving smile as she listened to my heart beat, almost as if it were a song.
Brytain: [softly] I'm lucky to call you my husband, My Michael...
The two of us continued to talk, about our upcoming wedding and several other topics. As we spoke, I continually found myself staring right into those brilliant blue eyes. Those eyes housed my downfall…my destruction, but I no longer care. I loved her, and right here I made a silent vow to myself, a vow that I will never be taken away from her again. Even if it means having to soil my very soul to keep my life…my family….I’ll never put them through that again.
It seems that the apparent reports of my demise have been… greatly exaggerated. But I care not to speak about that matter right at this time. Before I begin, I want everyone who has bothered to attempt to find this little message to listen as closely as humanly possible to everything that I have to say; don’t half listen, and do not attempt to cherry pick certain phrases and statements from anything I say today to listen to or base any sort of opinion or fact upon. You’ll look like an utter fool if you attempt to do otherwise. I’m not attempting to “Hype” this match in any way, shape or form. In all honesty, for the sake of those whom are a little squeamish, I advise against tuning in and watching. In fact, I employ views to take caution when it comes to ordering this Pay-Per-View for this match specifically.
There is no “War of The Dominant Factions”, “Battle of The Bulge”, or any nonsense of the sort that is going on at this time. Because despite what ANYONE who has endorsed this foolish little idea wishes to believe, this isn’t a war. This has nothing to do with Team Lethality, The Disciples of Syn, or any ill conceived notions of a war between the two factions, despite what everyone is advertising. This is a matter between myself, and My Opponent on August 17th. Our…. “World Champion”, Danielle Lopez.
Syn’s entire demeanor changed the moment that he mentioned Danielle, but the change was a very subtle one. His jaw unconsciously clinched slightly, and his eyes glinted in an emotion that was very rarely seen in Syn. It was anger. While he seemed to be keeping his composure very well, the anger was still present, if only just barely restrained.
Syn: [Trying to stay calm] Before all else and before I decide to speak about the match and circumstances that surround it, I want something to be made very clear to everyone. Before our match at Slamathon, I had nothing but the utmost deepest respect for you, Mrs. Lopez. A fact that I believe was so very obvious to anyone who watched the two of us interact with one another outside of the ring, in promos, and in other forms. Even to the point where I had called you inarguably The Greatest Wrestler in PCW History, and said I would gladly give you a shot at My World Heavyweight Championship despite you doing nothing to earn the shot recently. Not because I believed that you deserved the title opportunity more than anyone else on the roster, but because you provided a bit of a test for me up until that point. A glimpse of just how much I’ve improved beyond what I was when I first started….then…
You killed me.
Syn paused as the anger flared once again in his eyes. His voice sounded calm and neutral, but if one listened closely enough, they could hear the anger building up within him. The rage quietly growing with every word that he has spoken so far. Syn’s jaw clinched for a moment and he closed his eyes, as if attempting to calm himself down, before he opened them again and looked at the camera. There was something brimming in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. It was an unknown emotion, one outside the very few of them that Syn has shown in the past.
Syn: And since you seem to be fond of cherry picking certain words and phrases from my little monologue on Rapture to give any argument you say a little substance, allow me to explain this fully: I’m WELL AWARE that someone else had a hand in what happened to me. Any fool with common sense can see that something was amiss by the mere fact that this so-called rematch between the two of us was made within a week of me dying. It’s only a matter now of both proving it….and exactly what I plan on doing to this person whenever she slips up. Yet I’ve chosen to go after you. Not because I view you as being the sole reason I died, but look at it this way. Who was my opponent for this match, you or the person who we likely both suspect of being the one pulling the strings for this match? Whose legacy in PCW stood to be in question if she didn’t somehow, SOMEWAY, defeat me in that match for The PCW World Heavyweight Title? And one last question: Who’s DIRECT actions were the cause of all that happened to me that day, and persist to this very moment. Not who’s planning was the cause, You. Not Morgan, You and you alone, Danielle, had so much to gain from this match. Because let’s be honest for a moment: When it came to you and World Heavyweight Title before our match, you were always so very close to obtaining it. So close to it, yet you could never fully pull the trigger. You all but choked in your attempts to EARN the shot, giving one up to Heather Monroe and one to myself, so you were desperate. Desperate to finally get the title and, at the cost of MY life, you got it.
Syn looked to be nearing his boiling point, and his rage was beginning to bubble to the surface. His eyes, one an otherworldly shade of bright green, and the other a shade of light purple, were almost glowing with a barely contained fury.
Do you remember the first thing you did for the entire week that you were World Champion, Danielle? You gave some half hearted thank you to me and a backhanded “I wish you a speedy recovery” just MOMENTS after the news broke that I had died, and celebrated as if the accomplishment didn’t come without any consequence. As if you didn’t care that another competitor just died. And before you go off and attempt to justify this as being an accident and say that this is what everyone who sets foot in that ring has signed up for, allow me to stop you. Dying is NOT what anyone signed up for you fool, and how dare you attempt to gloss over what happened by saying this is what we knowingly have signed up for. Injury to the point of permanent damage is expected. Between being on the road for up to 300 days a year and what it is we do for a living, it is a given.
But what gets me isn’t the fact that you are so unwilling to accept whatever role in this you’ve played, aware or not. It’s not that you’re going out of your way just to prove that Morgan Simmons may or may not have masterminded this entire ordeal, NEVERMIND THE BLOODY FACT that you were the one who threw the kick that started all of this or the fact that I’ve stated multiple times that I’M AWARE that there is more to it than what was seen. It’s not even the fact that you’re so willing to twist, bend, and construe the situation to attempt to justify all that happened up to the point where even the fool who got off on murder recently would look innocent in comparison. No, what gets me is that for all the pomposity you have and claiming yourself to be this modest, moral competitor, not once have you actually shown yourself to be such in this situation. You’ve become the very thing you sought out to destroy and rid PCW in your little pursuit of trying to find some way of justifying all of this. You’ve become no better than your accused; even worse so because she has never passed herself off as something she’s not.
And speaking of your accused….
Morgan…. I honestly won’t claim to know what it is that you are planning or trying to accomplish with inserting yourself into this match. While it would seem you simply want to cost Mrs. Lopez her World Title, I know you well enough to know that there is more to it than a simple, petty grudge and attempted fix. You see, much like myself, you’re very devious when you wish to be. You’re not all there, mind you, but very devious. But for all the deviousness that you possess, you’re not exactly the most subtle person when it comes to going after someone who has wronged you. Your attempts to get under the skin of anyone with the words “Team Lethality” on their T-Shirt is very much proof of that. So, with that in mind, one has to question some of the choices that you have made as the General Manager of Premium Championship Wrestling.
All I know is that there have been several circumstances that have come to my attention that cast you in a rather negative light. And if I were you, I would be very weary of what may or may not happen if any of it turns out to be true. After all, I've destroyed without reason. And if....IF you are involved? You will have been giving me a very good reason.
Danielle, Morgan. In just a few days time the three of us will all be in the same arena, the same ring. One of you wishes to keep the false legacy that has eluded her for her entire career, and the title that she believes assures her status. The other wishes for vengeance, whether it be against myself or our supposed World Champion remains to be seen. Me, well, I’m a little easier to figure out than the other two. I’ve not hid my motives, but rather glossed them over due to the fact that everyone else has drawn up their own versions of what it is I seek. But allow me to spell it out for you. I’m not going for a win it this match. At no point in time will I attempt to go for a pin-fall during the time of this match. I’ll only use a Submission if it can cause serious, debilitating harm to you, but not with the intent of victory. I couldn’t care less about winning, or about The World Heavyweight Title. Something I stated multiple times in the past.
No, what will happen at this Pay-Per-View is that by the end of the night, I’ll leave the arena in shackles as the most hated man in the history if Premium Championship Wrestling. What will happen isn’t Danielle Lopez overcoming the vengeful monster known as Syn, as well as the plotting and scheming General Manager. It won’t end with Morgan Simmons getting the revenge on those she perceived as wronging her. Neither of those outcomes will be what happens here.
Syn raises his head, showing nothing but pure, unadulterated hate.
Syn: …What will happen is PCW will see a second death in the ring in the span of as many months. And this time? This time….it will be VERY intentional. Welcome to the Age of Armageddon: I promise it will be a very painful experience.
The scene opened up on a stretch of road, just a short while after the Slamathon Pay-Per-View. The sound of a siren blaring could be heard over the engines of the cars that were driving, causing the drivers to stop where they were. Those sirens were very distinct, and more than likely belonged to an ambulance. This was confirmed as less than a second later, an ambulance truck drove into view and sped down the street, towards the direction of the nearest hospital. The scene shifted inside of the vehicle, where it seemed that everyone was in a panicked state. Laying there in the bed, was a young man who seemed to be in a bad way. He had the mangled remnants of his left eye dangling out of his socket, and torrents of blood had trailed out of his skull, and down his body, leaving him a bloody mess. The Paramedics that were inside were doing all they could to make sure that the young man would live to see tomorrow, but it looked as if he was not long for this world.
Paramedic One: We keep loosin’ him!
: [Quietly but forcefully] get him back. get him back, now!
He felt a hand slide into one of his own, holding it in a death grip as another voice came, this one a female. Even with his mind clouded and dazed by excruciating pain, a part of him, a part of his very soul, seemed to recognize the voice. He could her pain….pain she was feeling from him. Another voice was heard as he began to black out.
Paramedic Two: He’s lost a lot of blood from the destroyed eye, and the shards nicked a vein in his brain. We need to find a way to stop the bleeding, or this kid will die on us!
Brytain's grip on his hand tightens even more, and even when unconscious he could almost feel the air of she slowly forces herself to look at his bloody face. Everything was becoming very fuzzy, but he could make out what she was saying to him as he tried so desperately to cling to life.
Brytain: [whispering] Not like this, Michael. Fuck you. You don't get to leave me like this...
As she spoke these words, Syn seemed to be fading again. His pulse began to weaken, and the paramedics flew into a panic.
Paramedic One: Christ! The kid is fading again!
She squeezes his hand even harder, as though she can hold on tight enough to keep him there.
Brytain: [Pleadingly] No... please... don't do this. Michael, please... I-I need you.
The two paramedics were trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.
Paramedic Two: He's...he's fighting....but it doesn't look like he'll make it...
Brytain never took her eye off of him as she responded.
Brytain: [sharply] Yes... he WILL.
The first paramedic looked at her with a look of pity.
Paramedic One: The kid needs blood, or else he'll bleed out before they can fix him!
Brytain doesn't hesitate to hold her arm out.
Brytain: Then give him blood.
Paramedic two: Miss, we don't even know if his body will accept your blood.
Brytain stares him down.
Brytain: [calmly, but forcefully] I'm O Negative.
That was all that the two needed, before they began looking around for the equipment necessary to transfer blood.
Paramedic One: Quick, hook her up! We don't have much time!
Brytain doesn't flinch as they jab the needle into her arm, trying to hold back tears as she grips his hand tightly. Sticks a needle into Syn, and begins pumping blood into him. At the same time, they are trying to figure out a way of stopping the blood from where his left eye once was. A few tears slide down her cheeks as she begged desperately for him to come back to her, still holding onto his hand in a death grip.
Brytain: [pleading] Don't do this to me... please, Michael. I love you...
The paramedics couldn’t stop the bleeding fully, but managed to slow it down enough. But Syn has already lost a lot of blood, and his already pale skin had turned an unnatural, ghostly white. Brytain squeezes his hand tighter, at this point so far gone that all she can do is hold on to him and mumble "I love you" over and over again, hoping that maybe he'll hear her somehow. The finally make it to the hospital, with more medical personal arriving to help them and attempt to keep Syn stable in fear of losing him again. They disconnect Brytain and Syn by pulling the needles out of their arms, before they attempt to send Brytain into the emergency room. Syn is wheeled off to Surgery, with blood still pouring out of his eye socket as the Doctors rushed to save him, but to no avail.
At 7:35 PM on June 22nd, Michael Christopher Rollins, Known to the world as Syn, died on the operating table after going into shock.
(Syn POV)
I was forced to bite back a moan of agony as I felt myself slowly slipping back into consciousness, my mind a haze of pain from whatever it was that has happened to me. Slowly, I tried to open my eyes, managing to block out the sudden burst of pain that came with the action. I couldn’t see anything out of my left eye, which was the norm, but I was able to finally open the right and look around wearily at my surroundings. I was in a hospital room, hooked in to several machines and seemingly alone. There was no one else here. Slowly, I reached a hand up and yanked the wires out of my arm and off of my chest, and moved myself to where I was able to slowly stand up. Just as I did, I forced myself to pause, hearing movement outside of my room.
Syn: [Weakly] Show yourself….
When no one answered, I shakily stood up and wobbled slightly, before staggering slowly towards the door. Even with my mind being overwhelmed by the pain I felt, I still could not help but feel that something was off here. I could not remember what happened to me that landed me in the hospital in the first place, and the hospital seemed….quiet. Too quiet. My suspicions were confirmed as I reached the door and leaned against the door frame, not seeing anyone. It was as if this entire building was abandoned.
??: I’ve been waiting, Michael…
My entire body went numb as the soft and sweet, yet sinister voice echoed in my ears. It was a voice that I have come to know very well over a lifetime, yet I could not bring myself to believe that it was possible to hear it. Slowly, I turned my head to look in the direction of where the voice came from, and froze as my eyes locked on it’s source. It felt as if the very blood that pumped through my body had turned to ice as I stared right into a very familiar pair of bright, almost otherworldly green eyes that were shining brightly in amusement. I took one small step back in shock at who stood before me, silently asking myself if this was my mind playing tricks upon me or if it was truly real. Then, almost as my thoughts had been broadcasted to him, she spoke once more.
??: [Silkily] I’m Just as real as you are, Michael. You, of all people, should know that…
She slowly took one step forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he leered at me. I tried to move, but for some odd reason I could not. I tried to will my body to move, to step away from the man that was slowly sauntering towards me….but her gaze seemed to root me to the very spot where I stand.
Syn: [Hoarsely] No…..there is no way that this is possible…..You’re not real…
At this point, I was more or less trying to convince myself of that fact, despite the fact that she was literally standing at arm’s length away from me. Trying to convince myself that this thing that stood right in front of me could not possibly be made of flesh and bone, that she could not be real. The figure gave a chilling smile, before he slowly reached out. Instinctively, My entire body tensed as I waited to see what would happen. If this person was not real….was just an illusion as I thought she was, then she would not be able to make contact with me. Instead, to my confusion and horror, the hand caressed my Jaw lightly, proving me wrong. The hand suddenly grasped my Jaw slightly, forcing me to stare into the sharp, unearthly bright green eyes that I have known for nearly twenty-four years as the small smile on the woman’s face grew colder.
Maria: ……Oh, I am more than real, Michael. MUCH more…..
I said nothing as I stared into the eyes of…. My mother, standing within arm’s reach of me. Whatever confusion and horror I felt in that moment turned into bitter hatred as I stared into her eyes….the eyes I have inherited from her. The eyes that I look at every time that I glance into a mirror, that serve as a bitter reminder of who it is that I received them from.
Maria: I suppose you are wondering in that adorable little mind of yours exactly how this situation came to be, hmm?
My eyes never left hers as I stood my ground.
Syn: How …are you real? The last time that I checked, you were in an insane asylum, with your mind slowly giving way to the very madness –
She cut me off with an amused smile and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.
Maria: - That you yourself have been combating for four years, with this monster that you’ve tried shoving into the darkest recesses of your mind for your entire life.
I stopped speaking and glared at her, an audible growl escaping my lips as I spoke.
Syn: Do not be coy with me, woman.
She gave a little giggle, causing me to frown as the hold she had on my jaw seemed to tighten slightly. She stopped after a moment and gave me a look, akin to the look one would give a small child right before they explained something they did not understand.
Maria: [Chuckling] Now there, My Dear Boy, is the question. Why would you be meeting the entity that is the direct cause of every single thing in your life that has negatively impacted you and turned you into what you are today, even if I’m nothing more than a mental illusion? Why, of all people, would you see me at this moment in time?
I glared defiantly at her as I knocked her hand away from my face, now completely over the shock of seeing her again as the familiar feelings towards this woman….towards this thing that stood before me came back.
Syn: If I knew the answer to that one, “Mother” –
I spat out the word mother as if it were the foulest word that could ever come out of my mouth.
Syn: - then I would not be asking you, would I? Now, since you’ve managed to somehow invade my mind on an unconscious level, enlighten me. Why are you here?
Maria: [Softly] Oh, Michael. For all the knowledge and intelligence that you possess, you still don’t know how this has happened, do you? Such a pity, but since you asked so very nicely I suppose I can give you this…
She shook her head as the very familiar cold, emotionless smile made its way onto her face, causing me to fight back the urge to shiver at seeing it. I feared no man or woman that walked the earth….but even I was at a pause whenever confronted with this woman. Calmly, he reached up, showing me the hand that she had used moments earlier to grab hold of my chin. My eyes widened a fraction when I saw why she had held it up the way she did. The entire palm of her hand was covered in blood, my blood. Slowly, I reached my left hand up to my face and gently touched, before bringing it to my line of vision. It seemed like my entire hand was coated in blood. A horrible thought occurred to me, before I slowly brought myself up to look her right in the eyes.
Michael: ….Do…do you mean that I’m….?
I trailed off, horror coming into my being as I realized what had happened to me. She seemed to be more amused by my reaction than anything as she answered my unfinished question in that eerily calm and insufferable polite tone of voice.
Maria: Dead? Quite so, Michael. Seems that you have finally encountered your body’s limits on just how much pain you can withstand after all of this time. It’s such a pity as well. If you would have just made it one more day, you would have been able to just get surgery. At least then your risk would have been known instead of death.
Her smile turned particularly cold as she continued speaking.
Maria: And the cold, damning truth of it all? Is that this…this is all on your head, Michael. You went into this match against your better judgment, knowing that you could have just as easily forfeit your title, have the surgery done the next day as planned, and walked away. Walked away from all of this and lived another day. But you didn’t, did you? You chose to be a bloody fighter and take the match, and now you’ve gone and broken your promise to your dearly beloved.
I didn’t hear her at all as I just stood there, my mind refusing to process what it was that he has just told me as the memories of what happened to me finally managed to make themselves known. The Match, What had happened during it, and….my death.
Syn: No…..No….
Images of Brytain fluttered to the forefront of my mind, and I realized I would never see her again. As that thought passed through my mind, all of my sorrow, all of my sadness turned into anger and determination: Anger at the fact that I have broken my promise to her, and determined to somehow, SOMEWAY, change this.
Syn: [Hissing in anger] No….I refuse to end it like this. If I ever end it….it will be on MY terms.
As I said these words, something happened. It started out dull, but I started to feel a shock go through my body, causing me to drop to my knees. I felt another soon after, and I slowly began to realize exactly what it was: They were attempting to bring me back. Rather than fight against the pain, I decided to go along with it. Little by little, the hospital setting began to disappear and fade into darkness, along with the entirety of this “Dream Setting”. As I felt my mind drift off into unconsciousness once again, I could not help but utter one simple statement, with the image of the young woman whom had captured my heart in mind as I said it.
Syn: [Weakly] I….told you that I would come back…
[Wednesday, August 14th. Los Angeles, California]
I don’t know how long I was awake this day, or how long I’ve been thinking like this. My lip curled into a defiant sneer as I stared into the mirror, less than pleased with what I had become over the last several weeks. I have been conscious and quietly recovering from my injuries for the better part of the last six weeks, and I decided to return to the world just a few days ago with my return at Rapture. My body, while it seems that it is indeed recovering, was still very much badly damaged. My normally pale skin was a still a shade of ghostly white, having not gained very much color since my returning to the world of the living. My nerves were badly shot, to the point where I needed assistance of either a cane or another person to be able to walk around without feeling some pain or discomfort. There were a host of other injuries, and they did not appear to be going away anytime soon.
Syn: [Disgusted] Death has not been kind to me.
There is an old saying about how once you kill a man, you take away everything that he is: His hopes, his dreams, his plans all brought to a screeching halt along with his very life at the hands of his killer. But there is a question that I’ve been asking myself over and over again for the last month and a half. A question to that statement that has been burning at the very forefront of my mind, and I’ve not been able to find an answer to just yet, even though I’ve lived through this scenario.
What happens to the man who dies…..yet manages to draw breath once again?
Does he simply wander around aimlessly, contemplating all that he could have been? Or does he find a new purpose, something that keeps him going for the remainder of his existence? At one point in time…I didn’t mind the idea of death. The idea of the fact that I have made so many enemies that it seemed unlikely that I would see the age of 30. For so many years, I actually hoped for it and looked forward to the day where I may draw my last breath. The blissful release from an existence plagued by so much misery and pain, and the cold realization that. It was, in a way, a suicide by way of execution. But now…
Over the last few months….that desire to end things like that, to be killed within the ring or at the hand of an enemy, has lessened. I would even go so far as to say that I no longer want to die. All of my past suffering and such seemed to be all but a distant memory, faded far from my mind..all because of the woman who lay sleeping in the next room. I smiled, before turning out of the bathroom and limping out just as she seemed to be stirring. She untangled herself from the mass of sheets and covers on the bed, and reached for me. Once she discovered that I was not there, causing her to open her eyes, and looked right into mine.
Brytain: [Softly] Hey, you…
I give a small smile at the greeting as she sat up and stretched out slightly.
Syn: [Softly] ‘Lo Britain.
The very greeting I’ve become accustomed to over the last five months of being with one another. Slowly, I limped over to the bed, my cane tapping on the cool tile floor as I moved. I set it at the end of the bed as I slowly sat down, before returning the greeting in kind. Wraps her arms around him, nuzzling close to him and laying her head against his chest to feel his heart beat. I respond to the gesture by wrapping my arm around her and hugging her closer, placing my head to where hers was tucked under my chin, showing her affection as I possibly can.
Brytain: [Softly] Good Morning…
I absentmindedly began running a hand through her hair, giving a small sigh of content as we lay together.
Syn: Good Morning, Love.
Brytain: [Softly] What’re you doing up?
I continue running a hand through her hair and wonders if I should tell her why I was up. Moving to where I was comfortable, before I look down at her.
Syn: Just thinking of all that has happened as of late over the last two months…and how you’ve stuck with me through all of it.
She smiles at me, before nuzzling back into my side.
Brytain: [Softly] ...Never crossed my mind to do anything else.
I gave the smallest of smiles, before I resume my actions.
Syn: I'm lucky to call you my wife, My Brytain...
She gave me a loving smile as she listened to my heart beat, almost as if it were a song.
Brytain: [softly] I'm lucky to call you my husband, My Michael...
The two of us continued to talk, about our upcoming wedding and several other topics. As we spoke, I continually found myself staring right into those brilliant blue eyes. Those eyes housed my downfall…my destruction, but I no longer care. I loved her, and right here I made a silent vow to myself, a vow that I will never be taken away from her again. Even if it means having to soil my very soul to keep my life…my family….I’ll never put them through that again.
It seems that the apparent reports of my demise have been… greatly exaggerated. But I care not to speak about that matter right at this time. Before I begin, I want everyone who has bothered to attempt to find this little message to listen as closely as humanly possible to everything that I have to say; don’t half listen, and do not attempt to cherry pick certain phrases and statements from anything I say today to listen to or base any sort of opinion or fact upon. You’ll look like an utter fool if you attempt to do otherwise. I’m not attempting to “Hype” this match in any way, shape or form. In all honesty, for the sake of those whom are a little squeamish, I advise against tuning in and watching. In fact, I employ views to take caution when it comes to ordering this Pay-Per-View for this match specifically.
There is no “War of The Dominant Factions”, “Battle of The Bulge”, or any nonsense of the sort that is going on at this time. Because despite what ANYONE who has endorsed this foolish little idea wishes to believe, this isn’t a war. This has nothing to do with Team Lethality, The Disciples of Syn, or any ill conceived notions of a war between the two factions, despite what everyone is advertising. This is a matter between myself, and My Opponent on August 17th. Our…. “World Champion”, Danielle Lopez.
Syn’s entire demeanor changed the moment that he mentioned Danielle, but the change was a very subtle one. His jaw unconsciously clinched slightly, and his eyes glinted in an emotion that was very rarely seen in Syn. It was anger. While he seemed to be keeping his composure very well, the anger was still present, if only just barely restrained.
Syn: [Trying to stay calm] Before all else and before I decide to speak about the match and circumstances that surround it, I want something to be made very clear to everyone. Before our match at Slamathon, I had nothing but the utmost deepest respect for you, Mrs. Lopez. A fact that I believe was so very obvious to anyone who watched the two of us interact with one another outside of the ring, in promos, and in other forms. Even to the point where I had called you inarguably The Greatest Wrestler in PCW History, and said I would gladly give you a shot at My World Heavyweight Championship despite you doing nothing to earn the shot recently. Not because I believed that you deserved the title opportunity more than anyone else on the roster, but because you provided a bit of a test for me up until that point. A glimpse of just how much I’ve improved beyond what I was when I first started….then…
You killed me.
Syn paused as the anger flared once again in his eyes. His voice sounded calm and neutral, but if one listened closely enough, they could hear the anger building up within him. The rage quietly growing with every word that he has spoken so far. Syn’s jaw clinched for a moment and he closed his eyes, as if attempting to calm himself down, before he opened them again and looked at the camera. There was something brimming in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. It was an unknown emotion, one outside the very few of them that Syn has shown in the past.
Syn: And since you seem to be fond of cherry picking certain words and phrases from my little monologue on Rapture to give any argument you say a little substance, allow me to explain this fully: I’m WELL AWARE that someone else had a hand in what happened to me. Any fool with common sense can see that something was amiss by the mere fact that this so-called rematch between the two of us was made within a week of me dying. It’s only a matter now of both proving it….and exactly what I plan on doing to this person whenever she slips up. Yet I’ve chosen to go after you. Not because I view you as being the sole reason I died, but look at it this way. Who was my opponent for this match, you or the person who we likely both suspect of being the one pulling the strings for this match? Whose legacy in PCW stood to be in question if she didn’t somehow, SOMEWAY, defeat me in that match for The PCW World Heavyweight Title? And one last question: Who’s DIRECT actions were the cause of all that happened to me that day, and persist to this very moment. Not who’s planning was the cause, You. Not Morgan, You and you alone, Danielle, had so much to gain from this match. Because let’s be honest for a moment: When it came to you and World Heavyweight Title before our match, you were always so very close to obtaining it. So close to it, yet you could never fully pull the trigger. You all but choked in your attempts to EARN the shot, giving one up to Heather Monroe and one to myself, so you were desperate. Desperate to finally get the title and, at the cost of MY life, you got it.
Syn looked to be nearing his boiling point, and his rage was beginning to bubble to the surface. His eyes, one an otherworldly shade of bright green, and the other a shade of light purple, were almost glowing with a barely contained fury.
Do you remember the first thing you did for the entire week that you were World Champion, Danielle? You gave some half hearted thank you to me and a backhanded “I wish you a speedy recovery” just MOMENTS after the news broke that I had died, and celebrated as if the accomplishment didn’t come without any consequence. As if you didn’t care that another competitor just died. And before you go off and attempt to justify this as being an accident and say that this is what everyone who sets foot in that ring has signed up for, allow me to stop you. Dying is NOT what anyone signed up for you fool, and how dare you attempt to gloss over what happened by saying this is what we knowingly have signed up for. Injury to the point of permanent damage is expected. Between being on the road for up to 300 days a year and what it is we do for a living, it is a given.
But what gets me isn’t the fact that you are so unwilling to accept whatever role in this you’ve played, aware or not. It’s not that you’re going out of your way just to prove that Morgan Simmons may or may not have masterminded this entire ordeal, NEVERMIND THE BLOODY FACT that you were the one who threw the kick that started all of this or the fact that I’ve stated multiple times that I’M AWARE that there is more to it than what was seen. It’s not even the fact that you’re so willing to twist, bend, and construe the situation to attempt to justify all that happened up to the point where even the fool who got off on murder recently would look innocent in comparison. No, what gets me is that for all the pomposity you have and claiming yourself to be this modest, moral competitor, not once have you actually shown yourself to be such in this situation. You’ve become the very thing you sought out to destroy and rid PCW in your little pursuit of trying to find some way of justifying all of this. You’ve become no better than your accused; even worse so because she has never passed herself off as something she’s not.
And speaking of your accused….
Morgan…. I honestly won’t claim to know what it is that you are planning or trying to accomplish with inserting yourself into this match. While it would seem you simply want to cost Mrs. Lopez her World Title, I know you well enough to know that there is more to it than a simple, petty grudge and attempted fix. You see, much like myself, you’re very devious when you wish to be. You’re not all there, mind you, but very devious. But for all the deviousness that you possess, you’re not exactly the most subtle person when it comes to going after someone who has wronged you. Your attempts to get under the skin of anyone with the words “Team Lethality” on their T-Shirt is very much proof of that. So, with that in mind, one has to question some of the choices that you have made as the General Manager of Premium Championship Wrestling.
All I know is that there have been several circumstances that have come to my attention that cast you in a rather negative light. And if I were you, I would be very weary of what may or may not happen if any of it turns out to be true. After all, I've destroyed without reason. And if....IF you are involved? You will have been giving me a very good reason.
Danielle, Morgan. In just a few days time the three of us will all be in the same arena, the same ring. One of you wishes to keep the false legacy that has eluded her for her entire career, and the title that she believes assures her status. The other wishes for vengeance, whether it be against myself or our supposed World Champion remains to be seen. Me, well, I’m a little easier to figure out than the other two. I’ve not hid my motives, but rather glossed them over due to the fact that everyone else has drawn up their own versions of what it is I seek. But allow me to spell it out for you. I’m not going for a win it this match. At no point in time will I attempt to go for a pin-fall during the time of this match. I’ll only use a Submission if it can cause serious, debilitating harm to you, but not with the intent of victory. I couldn’t care less about winning, or about The World Heavyweight Title. Something I stated multiple times in the past.
No, what will happen at this Pay-Per-View is that by the end of the night, I’ll leave the arena in shackles as the most hated man in the history if Premium Championship Wrestling. What will happen isn’t Danielle Lopez overcoming the vengeful monster known as Syn, as well as the plotting and scheming General Manager. It won’t end with Morgan Simmons getting the revenge on those she perceived as wronging her. Neither of those outcomes will be what happens here.
Syn raises his head, showing nothing but pure, unadulterated hate.
Syn: …What will happen is PCW will see a second death in the ring in the span of as many months. And this time? This time….it will be VERY intentional. Welcome to the Age of Armageddon: I promise it will be a very painful experience.