Post by Syn on Jun 5, 2013 19:17:49 GMT -5
I twitched slightly as I slowly found myself waking up from my slumber, keeping my eyes closed as a sudden wave of grogginess overcame me. This was not entirely unfamiliar to me, waking up like this. I slept very little, if at all for long periods of time. Still keeping my eyes closed, I could not help but feel as though something was amiss.
My mind was not clear enough to pick it up right away, but even under a fog of grogginess I could tell that there was something out of place. Mutely, I reached out for the place on the bed where Brytain usually resides. Instead of making contact with her, my hand bit something else. Something unfamiliar to the bed that she and I shared. This caused me to frown slightly, as I silently wondered what it was, and what it was doing there. Slowly, without waking up fully, my hand began to trail over the object, trying to figure out exactly what it was. It was a long, metal banister. My eyes snapped open, now fully awake as I realize exactly what it was that was wrong:
This was not my home.
I went to sit up, but had to fight down the uncontrollable urge to hiss in pure agony a pain shot through multiple parts of my body. What had happened to me? Why was I in so much pain? Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to sit as still as humanly possible until the pain subsides. I could never recall being in so much pain, much less all at one time. Once I felt I was able to move without any jolting pain, I slowly opened my eyes back up and looked around, taking in everything that was around me. The room I was in not a big one, just big enough to fit the barest and smallest of necessities in it. The Walls were of a plain white color, with one single window just a few feet away from the bed, where a small desk resided.
I paused, taking all of this in as I tried to think just exactly where I have seen this all before. I don’t know how or why, but this room….this setting, it seemed very familiar to me.
Syn: [Aloud] But why….why do I feel as if I’ve been here before?
The more I try to remember exactly how this place seemed familiar, the more frustrating it seemed to become. It was worsening the already horrid headache that I was suffering from. I slowly reached up and placed my head in my hands, trying to remember something that would give me a clue as to where I was, or why I was here in the first place. To my continuing annoyance, I was unable to draw anything. Nothing that I was actually able to remember was able to explain the situation that I was in at the moment, or where I was for that matter.
The last thing that I recall is being at the most recent episode of Saturday Night Rapture, having just faced off against PCW Hall of Famer and former World Heavyweight Champion, Leon Lonewolf. After the event was over, myself and my Fiancé, Brytain Montgomery, had gone out to dinner. After that, we went back to the hotel. I paused, shaking my head as another wave of memories flooded my mind. That was at least a week or so ago, but I could not recall anything following after that. There was nothing else that I can remember after that, nothing in the last week that I could even recall off the top of my head. I paused, blinking as something hit me.
Syn: ….I don’t even remember falling asleep.
It was true. My last few memories did not include ever falling asleep, or anything else after that may have happened during the last week and a half. Groaning, I moved to place my head in my hands, but stopped when I felt something brush against the skin of my wrist. I frowned slightly, before I looked over at it and noticed there was something wrapped around my wrist, it looked something like a piece of paper. I reached over and slowly tugged at it with my free hand, before yanking it off of my wrist. Holding it in the light, I was able to make out just a bit of what was printed on it and read it aloud.
Syn: M. Rollins…. Birth date…
I trailed off as I silently continued to read the band around my wrist, realizing that it had information on me that no one, not even those closest to me, should be privy to. Things such as my height, weight, eye color, among other things were printed right before my eyes as I continued to read. While I was reading, something clicked in the back of my mind. Much like the room, this band is oddly familiar, but where…? Slowly, it begins to down on me where I have seen this sort of band before, and the look on my face changes to one of pure horror. I feel the band slip out of my fingers and fall onto the cool tiled floor below as I whispered in shock.
Syn: [Stunned] ….I’m in an Asylum…
I’m in a Mental Asylum. I don’t know how or why….but I’ve managed to end up in a Mental Asylum. My eyes dart to the large white door in front of the bed as instinct takes over. I don’t know how or why I have ended up here, but there was one thing that I was certain of. I was not going to stay any longer. I slowly stand up and tried to walk forward, but winced as another jolt of pain shot through my body. Trying my best to block it out, I managed to make my way over to the door and went to open it. My frown deepened when I realized it was locked from the outside. I was not about to give up just yet. I walked over to the window to see if the window would open, as well as how far down a possible jump would be for me and if I would be harmed during.
My frown turned into an annoyed scowl when I saw just how impossible my chances were.
Not only was the window locked, but even if I found a way to pry it open and escape, I faced a jump of at least 4 stories. Escaping would not exactly be any good to me at the moment if both of my legs were broken from it.
Syn: Well then….it seems I’m stuck here…
I sighed at that and went to sit back down on the bed to plot, when I heard a sound coming from directly outside of my doorway. It seemed to be…voices. Stealthily, I crept back towards the door and pressed my ear to it, to see if I could make out any of what it was that was being said. It was muffled at first, but slowly the words seemed to be coming more into focus. The person currently speaking was a female, and it seemed that they were coming towards my room.
Female Voice 1: Room 405: Patient, Michael C. Rollins….wow, what did this guy do to be put on all of these meds?
I frowned, but kept silent and leaned in as another female began speaking.
Female Voice 2: He got dropped off here a while ago, but it was completely out of the blue. There was no one to explain why he was here, or who was admitting him. Just a note saying he suffered from a lot of emotional and psychological damage brought on by stress. He was really quiet at first and just kept to himself: Never talked, never tried to socialize, or anything that involved being around other people. He was actually one of the better patients. But then, just yesterday….something happened. We don’t know what, we don’t know how…..but he just snapped out of the blue and started attacking anything that moved. He injured 3 guards, and a few of the other patients when all of this happened. And he didn't stop, either. He was tased and hit with a few objects, but he still didn't go down. And that’s not even the scary part. Every time they hit him, or he got tased, he….he laughed. And it wasn't a normal laugh. It was scary, and manic. Like some kind of lunatic…
As she speaks, I can feel the muscles in my face contort into a small frown. From how she was speaking, one would think that I have been here much longer than just a few days. But there is no conceivable way that this is the case. That, and my so called attack that came from nowhere a day ago. While I do have seemingly random bouts of extreme violence and an unquenchable appetite for destruction and chaos, my mind is drawing a blank as to why I would attack anyone. I paused in thought for a few moments as she spoke back up, the note of both fear and curiosity still in her voice as she attempted to hush her tone slightly.
Female voice 2: They finally managed to sedate him and drag him off to his room. I just don’t get it, how could someone who looks so innocent be so dangerous? What happened to him to make him that dangerous…that insane?
I stayed deathly silent, trying to hear every word that was said as another voice spoke up, and this voice belonging to a male. But nothing could have prepared me for the sentence that came out of the man’s mouth as he answered her question.
Male Voice: The charts say that the guy went nuts after seeing his little brother slash his own throat a few years back. He saw the whole thing and it sent him over the edge….
I tuned out the rest of his response as I slowly slid down the wall, my eyes wide in disbelief and my blood running cold as his words replayed over and over again inside of my mind. I was admitted here….after Kai had tried to kill himself. But that was impossible. That was nearly three years ago….I couldn't be committed. Not after all this time. But it seemed that the more I thought upon the subject, the more the images began to appear. The scene of that horrid day and memories past began assaulting my mind relentlessly. My Breath hitched in my throat as the images of a pair of cold, lifeless jade green eyes flooded my vision. The next being images of blood sprayed over walls, as well as the floor. The memories had become so vivid that I could even faintly detect the scent of blood…my brother’s blood, filling my senses.
Syn: Stop….
As much as I wanted the images to stop, they kept coming: Kai’s eyes, nearly devoid of life staring up at me, his normally pale skin now a ghostly white, and ice cold to the touch. It was as if I was there, reliving this memory all over again. I closed my eyes tightly and held my head, trying to will the images out of my mind and to cease the pain I was starting to feel.
Syn: [More forcefully] Stop….stop it now…
My hands yanked at my hair as they kept coming, faster and faster. Each memory becoming longer, and more vivid and detailed than the last as they assaulted my mind, my very being. After what seemed like countless hours of unimaginable mental torture, I felt myself slowly beginning to breaking down: My breaths had become rapid, as if I were trapped in an enclosed space. It felt as if my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. It was maddening. I felt my mind slowly descending into a very familiar place, one that it had not seen in years. The very place it went where all of these events took place.
But it was worse this time, far worse than I could begin to fathom.
Finally, after a few moments, I could no longer hold it all in anymore. Between the torture of my mind, and what it was slowly beginning to do to me, I could no longer take it.
I screamed. I screamed a long, pained, anguished scream. The scenery began to change, and I shot up while I was still in my own bed, my throat now raw from the screaming I had done inside of my dream. My breathing was heavy, and I was drenched in a very cold sweat. It…..it was a dream, a very horrid, realistic dream. Still breathing heavily, I turned and looked at Brytain, to see if my scream had awakened her. To my relief, she still slept peacefully by my side. Giving a small sigh of both relief and exhaustion, I slowly lay back down, trying to convince myself that this was real. That what I just experienced….that it was just a dream.
Syn: It was just a dream….nothing more.
I closed my eyes and once again tried to drift off to a rare, uneasy sleep. But as much as I did not wish to dwell upon it…I could not shake that horrid dream from my mind.
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The scene opened up inside of a large, very beautiful building sometime in the dead of the night. There were no cars around, no people, no sign that anyone had been there beyond a few scattered flyers that were in the parking lot. The building was pure white, and had multiple crosses strewn about the property. It seemed to be a church of some kind. Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps could be heard, walking towards the church very quietly in the distance. The man was dressed in a black suit, with a red shirt and his long, light blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He also carried a long, black cane with a serpent’s head as the handle. He looked every bit the part of the devil himself as he walked up to the main doors and slowly opened them, before walking into the building.
The person was Syn, who was now taking a look around the church as he walked inside, the loud clicking of his shoes on the floor matched by the tapping of his cane following not a second later. His lips quirked upwards into an amused smirk as he stopped and he reached out with his cane and tapped one of the pews lightly as he spoke softly.
Syn: Yes, It has been quite some time since I've found myself in a setting of this sort. I’m actually quite surprised that I've not burst into flames as of yet just by setting foot into this building.
He paused for a moment, still looking around in curiosity as he continued speaking.
Syn: Amazing, is it not? While I've abandoned all religion and removed it from anything to do with my cause, sometimes I still find myself somewhat bemused and a tad bit curious in why most people believe in the things that they believe in.
He gave a small chuckle as he continued to walk forward, tapping the end of his cane on the ends of the pews as he continued to look around. He decided to take a seat in the pew near the front. He looked down at the seat, noticing an abandoned Bible sitting next to him. Arching an eyebrow in curiosity, he slowly reached down and picked the book up, before opening it.
Syn: While I most certainly am not mocking or criticizing those whom are of any religion in particular, I myself never managed to quite understand exactly how one could put so much faith in the words of a book such as this one. A book that highlights the history of a religion, as well as an omnipotent being, yet is written by the hand of man. It never seemed to be particularly logical to me in any sense. But I suppose it is something that must be practiced to be understood…trusting and believing in something so blindly without any shred of viable proof about the history of it other than a second hand telling. Trusting in the people whom live their lives to spread the word of this, even though there has been a rather tainted view painted about the majority of them due to the actions of a few who have betrayed said trust.
Syn’s eyes stray away from the book for a moment and he looks ahead, right at the large crucifix that was present on the stage at the front of the church, right behind the stand where The Pastor normally spoke.
Syn: I've never found myself having to place any small shred of trust that I am expected to give in a tag match….to someone like you, Mr. Matthews. Now, before you take my words as a sort of an insult, it is not meant in any way as such.
Syn continued to skim through the bible, a darkly amused look etched firmly upon his face as he gave a small chuckle. He calmly turned another page, before he continued speaking.
Syn: Though from this little book that I am reading, I can certainly see why you have a bit of an, uh…“Obsession” with the way of the light, as well as the religion that beckons it. It is very entertaining, if somewhat interesting. It’s an ironic little twist of fate Mr. Matthews, you and I teaming together. We walk two very different paths of life, with two very contradictory sets of beliefs and . You devoting your life to a Higher Power and converting the lost souls of the world to see his cause, by any means necessary. While some of your methods are seen as being extreme and borderline, they are....somewhat effective, in the long-term view of things. And myself….well, I’m an anarchist: A lone solider of chaos, wanting to spread as much discord throughout this company, and the world, as I can. And after so many months of work, of ridicule, of so many trials and tribulations, it seems that my work in that regard is all but completed. The company is rebelling against the new hierarchy within management, to the point where open defiance and acts of disobedience is now the norm. It truly is a wonderful thing to see.
But enough about the two of us for now, hmm? Let us shift the focus for a moment and set our attention upon the reason why the two of us are uniting, the two people who stand in our way not just in our upcoming match, but loom in our futures with championship implications a well. Our opponents, for the June 8th addition of Rapture: The tandem of Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson….and the leader of the little group of “Fighters” he happens to be a part of, Danielle Lopez. Now, to my understanding this is a first for the four of us, is it not? For myself and Mr. Matthews, it is the first time we’ve been in the same ring together, to my knowledge. But I trust that he is wise enough to know what to expect while in the ring with me. The two of you, it is the first time that you have teamed with one another, despite the, uh, mentor-student relationship that the two of you seem to have, or seem to give off having. And I’m sure that it is very …
Syn rolled his eyes slightly as he clicked his tongue with his teeth, before continuing.
Syn: …exciting for the two of you, I’m afraid this little effort will have been a wasted one on your part. While myself and Mr. Matthews do not particularly care about the well being for one another, we do have one common goal that will aid us in victory in this match: The desire to play the “Spoiler” so to speak, when it comes to the championship aspirations for the two of you. The desire to bring you so close to the cusp of obtaining what it is you both seek, and yanking it away just as you reach out to grab hold of it. But I think that while that idea is very appealing, I know that the two of you will not allow that to happen without a fight. And I encourage that. Because this would not be nearly as challenging or entertaining if you were to do otherwise.
One of my two opponents I am very familiar with. So much to the point to where I know him better than any other existing member of the PCW Roster: Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson.
Syn shook his head lightly as he continued to speak.
Syn: How many times, Ryan? How many times have you and I met in the middle of the ring, hmm? At least 10 times now, correct? Ever since our first meeting a fair bit beyond WKF, you and I have been fixated upon one another to the point where we cross paths seemingly at will now, more so than the desire of any booker and promoter. With each time you and I meet, it becomes just a tad bit harder than our last encounter to put one another away. And each match, it seems we leave a little more of ourselves in the ring, slowly destroying our very beings in pursuit of the goal of achieving the definitive victory over one another. And yet, we can never bring ourselves to ultimately…end, one another, can we? We have had multiple chances, multiple opportunities to do away with one another, but for some odd reason we have not. But we both know why that is, don’t we? We both know why we put ourselves through this torture time and time again, and why we allow our destinies to continue to intertwine on this suicide course that you and I are locked onto. You cannot end me out of some misguided, somewhat amusing notion that there is still a fair bit of good left in me, along with a begrudging amount of respect as well.
Though I cannot imagine why you would not desire to see me damaged beyond repair. After all, you DO recall what it is I did to your dear, sweet beloved, do you not? How her very own mother and father came to me and asked me to take her from you, at all costs [Syn gives an evil smirk] How I kidnapped her, drugged her and essentially played a very…riveting game of keep away with her, dangling her in front of you as if she were merely bait, and pulling her away. You are a much better Human being than I, My Dear Boy.
But it seems that I am forgetting someone, am I not? The so called “Leader” of the little group of “Warriors” that you seem to have dedicated yourself to. The person whom wishes to challenge for the belt that lays upon my shoulder. Aren't I, Mrs. Lopez?
Syn continued to stare up at the Crucifix, his eyes not blinking as he continued to speak.
Syn: Despite the fact that the two of us are on the opposite ends of the views of good and evil, I have nothing but respect for you, and all that you have done as a wrestler. From your series of matches against Heather Monroe, to your part in your husband’s little Dynasty as well as your Tag Team run with Desiree Miles, all the way up until your Record Setting reign as the longest reigning PCW Broadcast Champion. Yes, I've studied you very well. You are arguably the greatest wrestler in the history of the Wonderful World Of Premium, and perhaps the biggest threat to my reign. Bar none. But for you to assume that you could merely observe my style of wrestling and think that you could prepare for me in that manner is a little….foolish, on your part.
I could honestly say a bit more, but I think I’ll reserve whatever words that I need to for our battle at Slamathon. But this coming episode of Rapture, in the spirit of my temporary tandem with Mr. Matthews, I wish to ask a simple request from the two of you: I want for the two of you to pray. I want the two of you to pray for the end of that match to be swift and painless. Because while I cannot speak on the behalf of my partner for the evening, you can rest assured that nothing will stop me from walking into Rapture with every intention of making this a very unsuccessful debut for your little team effort.
Welcome to The Age of Armageddon, Team Lethality: I promise that your stay here will be a very painful one.
My mind was not clear enough to pick it up right away, but even under a fog of grogginess I could tell that there was something out of place. Mutely, I reached out for the place on the bed where Brytain usually resides. Instead of making contact with her, my hand bit something else. Something unfamiliar to the bed that she and I shared. This caused me to frown slightly, as I silently wondered what it was, and what it was doing there. Slowly, without waking up fully, my hand began to trail over the object, trying to figure out exactly what it was. It was a long, metal banister. My eyes snapped open, now fully awake as I realize exactly what it was that was wrong:
This was not my home.
I went to sit up, but had to fight down the uncontrollable urge to hiss in pure agony a pain shot through multiple parts of my body. What had happened to me? Why was I in so much pain? Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to sit as still as humanly possible until the pain subsides. I could never recall being in so much pain, much less all at one time. Once I felt I was able to move without any jolting pain, I slowly opened my eyes back up and looked around, taking in everything that was around me. The room I was in not a big one, just big enough to fit the barest and smallest of necessities in it. The Walls were of a plain white color, with one single window just a few feet away from the bed, where a small desk resided.
I paused, taking all of this in as I tried to think just exactly where I have seen this all before. I don’t know how or why, but this room….this setting, it seemed very familiar to me.
Syn: [Aloud] But why….why do I feel as if I’ve been here before?
The more I try to remember exactly how this place seemed familiar, the more frustrating it seemed to become. It was worsening the already horrid headache that I was suffering from. I slowly reached up and placed my head in my hands, trying to remember something that would give me a clue as to where I was, or why I was here in the first place. To my continuing annoyance, I was unable to draw anything. Nothing that I was actually able to remember was able to explain the situation that I was in at the moment, or where I was for that matter.
The last thing that I recall is being at the most recent episode of Saturday Night Rapture, having just faced off against PCW Hall of Famer and former World Heavyweight Champion, Leon Lonewolf. After the event was over, myself and my Fiancé, Brytain Montgomery, had gone out to dinner. After that, we went back to the hotel. I paused, shaking my head as another wave of memories flooded my mind. That was at least a week or so ago, but I could not recall anything following after that. There was nothing else that I can remember after that, nothing in the last week that I could even recall off the top of my head. I paused, blinking as something hit me.
Syn: ….I don’t even remember falling asleep.
It was true. My last few memories did not include ever falling asleep, or anything else after that may have happened during the last week and a half. Groaning, I moved to place my head in my hands, but stopped when I felt something brush against the skin of my wrist. I frowned slightly, before I looked over at it and noticed there was something wrapped around my wrist, it looked something like a piece of paper. I reached over and slowly tugged at it with my free hand, before yanking it off of my wrist. Holding it in the light, I was able to make out just a bit of what was printed on it and read it aloud.
Syn: M. Rollins…. Birth date…
I trailed off as I silently continued to read the band around my wrist, realizing that it had information on me that no one, not even those closest to me, should be privy to. Things such as my height, weight, eye color, among other things were printed right before my eyes as I continued to read. While I was reading, something clicked in the back of my mind. Much like the room, this band is oddly familiar, but where…? Slowly, it begins to down on me where I have seen this sort of band before, and the look on my face changes to one of pure horror. I feel the band slip out of my fingers and fall onto the cool tiled floor below as I whispered in shock.
Syn: [Stunned] ….I’m in an Asylum…
I’m in a Mental Asylum. I don’t know how or why….but I’ve managed to end up in a Mental Asylum. My eyes dart to the large white door in front of the bed as instinct takes over. I don’t know how or why I have ended up here, but there was one thing that I was certain of. I was not going to stay any longer. I slowly stand up and tried to walk forward, but winced as another jolt of pain shot through my body. Trying my best to block it out, I managed to make my way over to the door and went to open it. My frown deepened when I realized it was locked from the outside. I was not about to give up just yet. I walked over to the window to see if the window would open, as well as how far down a possible jump would be for me and if I would be harmed during.
My frown turned into an annoyed scowl when I saw just how impossible my chances were.
Not only was the window locked, but even if I found a way to pry it open and escape, I faced a jump of at least 4 stories. Escaping would not exactly be any good to me at the moment if both of my legs were broken from it.
Syn: Well then….it seems I’m stuck here…
I sighed at that and went to sit back down on the bed to plot, when I heard a sound coming from directly outside of my doorway. It seemed to be…voices. Stealthily, I crept back towards the door and pressed my ear to it, to see if I could make out any of what it was that was being said. It was muffled at first, but slowly the words seemed to be coming more into focus. The person currently speaking was a female, and it seemed that they were coming towards my room.
Female Voice 1: Room 405: Patient, Michael C. Rollins….wow, what did this guy do to be put on all of these meds?
I frowned, but kept silent and leaned in as another female began speaking.
Female Voice 2: He got dropped off here a while ago, but it was completely out of the blue. There was no one to explain why he was here, or who was admitting him. Just a note saying he suffered from a lot of emotional and psychological damage brought on by stress. He was really quiet at first and just kept to himself: Never talked, never tried to socialize, or anything that involved being around other people. He was actually one of the better patients. But then, just yesterday….something happened. We don’t know what, we don’t know how…..but he just snapped out of the blue and started attacking anything that moved. He injured 3 guards, and a few of the other patients when all of this happened. And he didn't stop, either. He was tased and hit with a few objects, but he still didn't go down. And that’s not even the scary part. Every time they hit him, or he got tased, he….he laughed. And it wasn't a normal laugh. It was scary, and manic. Like some kind of lunatic…
As she speaks, I can feel the muscles in my face contort into a small frown. From how she was speaking, one would think that I have been here much longer than just a few days. But there is no conceivable way that this is the case. That, and my so called attack that came from nowhere a day ago. While I do have seemingly random bouts of extreme violence and an unquenchable appetite for destruction and chaos, my mind is drawing a blank as to why I would attack anyone. I paused in thought for a few moments as she spoke back up, the note of both fear and curiosity still in her voice as she attempted to hush her tone slightly.
Female voice 2: They finally managed to sedate him and drag him off to his room. I just don’t get it, how could someone who looks so innocent be so dangerous? What happened to him to make him that dangerous…that insane?
I stayed deathly silent, trying to hear every word that was said as another voice spoke up, and this voice belonging to a male. But nothing could have prepared me for the sentence that came out of the man’s mouth as he answered her question.
Male Voice: The charts say that the guy went nuts after seeing his little brother slash his own throat a few years back. He saw the whole thing and it sent him over the edge….
I tuned out the rest of his response as I slowly slid down the wall, my eyes wide in disbelief and my blood running cold as his words replayed over and over again inside of my mind. I was admitted here….after Kai had tried to kill himself. But that was impossible. That was nearly three years ago….I couldn't be committed. Not after all this time. But it seemed that the more I thought upon the subject, the more the images began to appear. The scene of that horrid day and memories past began assaulting my mind relentlessly. My Breath hitched in my throat as the images of a pair of cold, lifeless jade green eyes flooded my vision. The next being images of blood sprayed over walls, as well as the floor. The memories had become so vivid that I could even faintly detect the scent of blood…my brother’s blood, filling my senses.
Syn: Stop….
As much as I wanted the images to stop, they kept coming: Kai’s eyes, nearly devoid of life staring up at me, his normally pale skin now a ghostly white, and ice cold to the touch. It was as if I was there, reliving this memory all over again. I closed my eyes tightly and held my head, trying to will the images out of my mind and to cease the pain I was starting to feel.
Syn: [More forcefully] Stop….stop it now…
My hands yanked at my hair as they kept coming, faster and faster. Each memory becoming longer, and more vivid and detailed than the last as they assaulted my mind, my very being. After what seemed like countless hours of unimaginable mental torture, I felt myself slowly beginning to breaking down: My breaths had become rapid, as if I were trapped in an enclosed space. It felt as if my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. It was maddening. I felt my mind slowly descending into a very familiar place, one that it had not seen in years. The very place it went where all of these events took place.
But it was worse this time, far worse than I could begin to fathom.
Finally, after a few moments, I could no longer hold it all in anymore. Between the torture of my mind, and what it was slowly beginning to do to me, I could no longer take it.
I screamed. I screamed a long, pained, anguished scream. The scenery began to change, and I shot up while I was still in my own bed, my throat now raw from the screaming I had done inside of my dream. My breathing was heavy, and I was drenched in a very cold sweat. It…..it was a dream, a very horrid, realistic dream. Still breathing heavily, I turned and looked at Brytain, to see if my scream had awakened her. To my relief, she still slept peacefully by my side. Giving a small sigh of both relief and exhaustion, I slowly lay back down, trying to convince myself that this was real. That what I just experienced….that it was just a dream.
Syn: It was just a dream….nothing more.
I closed my eyes and once again tried to drift off to a rare, uneasy sleep. But as much as I did not wish to dwell upon it…I could not shake that horrid dream from my mind.
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The scene opened up inside of a large, very beautiful building sometime in the dead of the night. There were no cars around, no people, no sign that anyone had been there beyond a few scattered flyers that were in the parking lot. The building was pure white, and had multiple crosses strewn about the property. It seemed to be a church of some kind. Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps could be heard, walking towards the church very quietly in the distance. The man was dressed in a black suit, with a red shirt and his long, light blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He also carried a long, black cane with a serpent’s head as the handle. He looked every bit the part of the devil himself as he walked up to the main doors and slowly opened them, before walking into the building.
The person was Syn, who was now taking a look around the church as he walked inside, the loud clicking of his shoes on the floor matched by the tapping of his cane following not a second later. His lips quirked upwards into an amused smirk as he stopped and he reached out with his cane and tapped one of the pews lightly as he spoke softly.
Syn: Yes, It has been quite some time since I've found myself in a setting of this sort. I’m actually quite surprised that I've not burst into flames as of yet just by setting foot into this building.
He paused for a moment, still looking around in curiosity as he continued speaking.
Syn: Amazing, is it not? While I've abandoned all religion and removed it from anything to do with my cause, sometimes I still find myself somewhat bemused and a tad bit curious in why most people believe in the things that they believe in.
He gave a small chuckle as he continued to walk forward, tapping the end of his cane on the ends of the pews as he continued to look around. He decided to take a seat in the pew near the front. He looked down at the seat, noticing an abandoned Bible sitting next to him. Arching an eyebrow in curiosity, he slowly reached down and picked the book up, before opening it.
Syn: While I most certainly am not mocking or criticizing those whom are of any religion in particular, I myself never managed to quite understand exactly how one could put so much faith in the words of a book such as this one. A book that highlights the history of a religion, as well as an omnipotent being, yet is written by the hand of man. It never seemed to be particularly logical to me in any sense. But I suppose it is something that must be practiced to be understood…trusting and believing in something so blindly without any shred of viable proof about the history of it other than a second hand telling. Trusting in the people whom live their lives to spread the word of this, even though there has been a rather tainted view painted about the majority of them due to the actions of a few who have betrayed said trust.
Syn’s eyes stray away from the book for a moment and he looks ahead, right at the large crucifix that was present on the stage at the front of the church, right behind the stand where The Pastor normally spoke.
Syn: I've never found myself having to place any small shred of trust that I am expected to give in a tag match….to someone like you, Mr. Matthews. Now, before you take my words as a sort of an insult, it is not meant in any way as such.
Syn continued to skim through the bible, a darkly amused look etched firmly upon his face as he gave a small chuckle. He calmly turned another page, before he continued speaking.
Syn: Though from this little book that I am reading, I can certainly see why you have a bit of an, uh…“Obsession” with the way of the light, as well as the religion that beckons it. It is very entertaining, if somewhat interesting. It’s an ironic little twist of fate Mr. Matthews, you and I teaming together. We walk two very different paths of life, with two very contradictory sets of beliefs and . You devoting your life to a Higher Power and converting the lost souls of the world to see his cause, by any means necessary. While some of your methods are seen as being extreme and borderline, they are....somewhat effective, in the long-term view of things. And myself….well, I’m an anarchist: A lone solider of chaos, wanting to spread as much discord throughout this company, and the world, as I can. And after so many months of work, of ridicule, of so many trials and tribulations, it seems that my work in that regard is all but completed. The company is rebelling against the new hierarchy within management, to the point where open defiance and acts of disobedience is now the norm. It truly is a wonderful thing to see.
But enough about the two of us for now, hmm? Let us shift the focus for a moment and set our attention upon the reason why the two of us are uniting, the two people who stand in our way not just in our upcoming match, but loom in our futures with championship implications a well. Our opponents, for the June 8th addition of Rapture: The tandem of Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson….and the leader of the little group of “Fighters” he happens to be a part of, Danielle Lopez. Now, to my understanding this is a first for the four of us, is it not? For myself and Mr. Matthews, it is the first time we’ve been in the same ring together, to my knowledge. But I trust that he is wise enough to know what to expect while in the ring with me. The two of you, it is the first time that you have teamed with one another, despite the, uh, mentor-student relationship that the two of you seem to have, or seem to give off having. And I’m sure that it is very …
Syn rolled his eyes slightly as he clicked his tongue with his teeth, before continuing.
Syn: …exciting for the two of you, I’m afraid this little effort will have been a wasted one on your part. While myself and Mr. Matthews do not particularly care about the well being for one another, we do have one common goal that will aid us in victory in this match: The desire to play the “Spoiler” so to speak, when it comes to the championship aspirations for the two of you. The desire to bring you so close to the cusp of obtaining what it is you both seek, and yanking it away just as you reach out to grab hold of it. But I think that while that idea is very appealing, I know that the two of you will not allow that to happen without a fight. And I encourage that. Because this would not be nearly as challenging or entertaining if you were to do otherwise.
One of my two opponents I am very familiar with. So much to the point to where I know him better than any other existing member of the PCW Roster: Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson.
Syn shook his head lightly as he continued to speak.
Syn: How many times, Ryan? How many times have you and I met in the middle of the ring, hmm? At least 10 times now, correct? Ever since our first meeting a fair bit beyond WKF, you and I have been fixated upon one another to the point where we cross paths seemingly at will now, more so than the desire of any booker and promoter. With each time you and I meet, it becomes just a tad bit harder than our last encounter to put one another away. And each match, it seems we leave a little more of ourselves in the ring, slowly destroying our very beings in pursuit of the goal of achieving the definitive victory over one another. And yet, we can never bring ourselves to ultimately…end, one another, can we? We have had multiple chances, multiple opportunities to do away with one another, but for some odd reason we have not. But we both know why that is, don’t we? We both know why we put ourselves through this torture time and time again, and why we allow our destinies to continue to intertwine on this suicide course that you and I are locked onto. You cannot end me out of some misguided, somewhat amusing notion that there is still a fair bit of good left in me, along with a begrudging amount of respect as well.
Though I cannot imagine why you would not desire to see me damaged beyond repair. After all, you DO recall what it is I did to your dear, sweet beloved, do you not? How her very own mother and father came to me and asked me to take her from you, at all costs [Syn gives an evil smirk] How I kidnapped her, drugged her and essentially played a very…riveting game of keep away with her, dangling her in front of you as if she were merely bait, and pulling her away. You are a much better Human being than I, My Dear Boy.
But it seems that I am forgetting someone, am I not? The so called “Leader” of the little group of “Warriors” that you seem to have dedicated yourself to. The person whom wishes to challenge for the belt that lays upon my shoulder. Aren't I, Mrs. Lopez?
Syn continued to stare up at the Crucifix, his eyes not blinking as he continued to speak.
Syn: Despite the fact that the two of us are on the opposite ends of the views of good and evil, I have nothing but respect for you, and all that you have done as a wrestler. From your series of matches against Heather Monroe, to your part in your husband’s little Dynasty as well as your Tag Team run with Desiree Miles, all the way up until your Record Setting reign as the longest reigning PCW Broadcast Champion. Yes, I've studied you very well. You are arguably the greatest wrestler in the history of the Wonderful World Of Premium, and perhaps the biggest threat to my reign. Bar none. But for you to assume that you could merely observe my style of wrestling and think that you could prepare for me in that manner is a little….foolish, on your part.
I could honestly say a bit more, but I think I’ll reserve whatever words that I need to for our battle at Slamathon. But this coming episode of Rapture, in the spirit of my temporary tandem with Mr. Matthews, I wish to ask a simple request from the two of you: I want for the two of you to pray. I want the two of you to pray for the end of that match to be swift and painless. Because while I cannot speak on the behalf of my partner for the evening, you can rest assured that nothing will stop me from walking into Rapture with every intention of making this a very unsuccessful debut for your little team effort.
Welcome to The Age of Armageddon, Team Lethality: I promise that your stay here will be a very painful one.