Freaking out inside of the hotel. Las Vegas, Nevada. Friday 26th June (Off Camera)
During the lockdown with the GRIME Wrestling events, they weren't allowed to leave the hotel to go anywhere. They had to stay where they are, meaning Raab had to see the same people and even do gym work with other wrestlers due to lack of space they can get for Lord Raab to work out on his own at nights.
Two months after being told to be locked in a hotel, you can start Lord Raab going mental, breaking walls, throw pillows and cushions all over the place, even some that have torn up. Lord Raab was struggling to fit himself in the environment he's been in for a few months. Sometimes, he lashed out at his husband, Samuel McPherson, despite him not doing anything wrong. The hotel was way too modern for him, and it didn't suit him.
Lord Raab's throwing things all around their hotel room and even some yelling and shouting about something as he states this while throwing his gear all over the place.
Lord Raab: "I want to get the fuck out of this hotel. This place is garbage. I want to leave and go back home, where I'm not seeing stupid wrestlers every single day of the week."
Samuel McPherson: "Yaarrp."
Lord Raab: "No, you don't understand, Samuel. I miss our gym. I miss wrestling for Carnage, and most importantly, I miss our sons. They are at home, wondering where the fuck we are. You know damn well I wasn't going to bring our kids here."
Samuel nodded as he didn't want their kids to be locked in a hotel with them either, incredibly how secretive their personal life with their kids was. Lord Raab struggles so badly on being a father, feeling he wasn't good at it because of his fears of showing emotion. It's been a few months he hadn't stepped foot in the Carnage ring, and it's draining Lord Raab poorly.
Henry knocks on the door, and Samuel goes over and opens it. As Henry walks in, he sees what a mess Lord Raab has made in the hotel which he didn't like as it's way too modern for him. He prefers old and messy hotels or better, his home.
Lord Raab: "I'm sick and tired of being in this shitty hotel. This hotel is more suited for Konrad than for me. I don't give a shit about how luxury this godforsaken hotel is. I don't like it."
Henry Losak: "I know this isn't the sort of hotels you'd stay in or stay in a hotel at all, but you know how lucky SCW staff are for allowing you to stay here? A few times on this journey, you've nearly been banned here."
Lord Raab: "I prefer if I was banned from this hotel. I want to go home; I want to wrestle in Carnage again. I have unfinished business there and the fact none of these shithole GM's are allowing me to wrestle in Carnage again due to me and Samuel getting fired makes me sick. I want to leave."
Henry Losak: "You can't. I know your sick of doing gym work with other wrestlers in the hotel and wanting time to yourself in there, but there are so many wrestlers, and I've tried to get you a private session and I can't. I know how desperate you are for this lockdown to be over and to be able to go home freely. We have to wait for that."
Lord Raab shook his head and rushed straight towards Henry and gets him in a chokehold. Samuel then sees this, and he pushes with a lot of force Lord Raab well back from Henry, seeing the explosive nature of his anger. The anger he uses a lot to cope with situations. It was driving him crazy. There was another part of him he missed so much.
Lord Raab: "I miss my god damn brother and his wife. These phone calls aren't good enough. I want to go home and see them. I can't right now because I'm stuck in this dead-end hotel that's doing nothing for me. I want my kids to see me."
Henry Losak: "You decided to keep your kids at their home and rightfully so, knowing how much you hate them being exposed to other wrestlers. I understand a lot about missing Konrad and wanting to see him and his wife, but we can't do anything. You know damn well, I'm going to talk to the therapist about your behaviour today. You are out of control."
Lord Raab: "Can you blame me when I'm not only bored here, but this place makes me sick? I'm sick of seeing the same wrestlers. I want to wrestle in Carnage, but I can't because I'm stuck here. I feel like leaving this hotel and go back to my own life."
Samuel shook his head, seeing Lord Raab not caring for the tag team matches at all as Samuel gets a pen out and starts writing on the sofa. The hotel was clean and very luxury. The walls were red walls with a pattern on black. The room was originally white, but Lord Raab wanted it changed because it wasn't his colour at all. Samuel finished writing and gives the note to Lord Raab to read.
Lord Raab: "I'm selfish? How am I being one when these fucktards don't allow us to wrestle in Carnage? They already forced you to lose the tag titles in Carnage, like that's not selfish enough. GRIME Wrestling don't give a damn what we want. Only what benefits them."
Henry Losak: "That's not true. You know that we're in here because someone got caught with the virus."
Lord Raab: "Fuck that virus-ridden person for forcing us to be here. I'm going to leave here tomorrow and never come back. Fuck you, Henry, for making me stay here."
Henry Losak: "It's not my fault. Just calm down. What you can do is spend quality time with Samuel for the day. That's what you both need, time alone. Samuel will find a way to relax. See you tomorrow."
Henry gets up from the sofa and exits the room, leaving Samuel and Raab alone. Samuel goes closer to Raab and kisses the side of his face to calm him down which it eventually does, especially when Samuel stroked Lord Raab's chest and kissed it. It then led them to go to the bedroom and close the doors behind them to have a bit of fun.
Lord Raab spending quality time with his children. Baltimore, Maryland. Friday 9th September (Off Camera)
It had been a long time since Lord Raab spent time with his sons of Callum and Maverick. Just hugging them was something that meant a lot to Lord Raab. Most people had no idea that Lord Raab had kids. However, he and Samuel only adopted Maverick last year, and Callum was a kid he received from someone due to Callum's mother dying of cancer a few years ago, turning out to be the son of Lord Raab's via a DNA test.
So for Lord Raab to take them to the playground and play with them by himself was a massive effort, especially for Henry, watching close by to see them play together. Seemed like he saw Callum and Maverick bonding a lot better than the last time he saw them. Lord Raab rarely ever told anyone in wrestling, apart from Henry and his family about his kids. Not even Kieran knows about them.
As Callum's seen on the monkey bars, swinging across from one bar to the other, showing off how strong he is to Raab. Maverick, on the other hand, went on the swings with Lord Raab pushing him. Maverick laughs on the amount of fun he's having, especially with Raab they never got.
Maverick Raab: "I missed you so much."
Callum got off the monkey bars and joined Maverick and Raab on the swings as Raab pushed the pair of them together.
Callum Raab: "We sometimes cried because we wanted to see you and daddy Samuel."
Lord Raab: "I did this to keep the pair of you safe. I don't trust wrestlers with you both. It's why you were with a babysitter all this time."
Maverick Raab: "I miss playing in the playground with you and Samuel. It's nice you want to do this."
Lord Raab: "I had to. I'm sorry to both of you for not showing either one of your affection enough. While I was locked in a hotel, I began to realise what a poor dad I've been to the pair of you, how I've pushed you both away when you wanted hugs. How I've never expressed the words, I love you. I will let you hug me and hold my hand now as many times you both like."
Henry overheard what Lord Raab was saying as he's sitting on the bench, to keep an eye out on things. Henry nodded from the far end of the playground with Lord Raab pushing Callum and Maverick on the swings. They then ran away from Lord Raab, and he runs around to catch up to them.
Callum Raab: "You're not a poor dad, just you still in shock of being a dad and not knowing how to be one. You're learning, that's what that man on the bench over there said."
Lord Raab: "Yes, you're right. I also realise I think about wrestling too much as well. When daddy did lots of wrestling, it made me think of the future I'd want to spend with all of you. Then the future of also having you all in Germany, running a wrestling school with uncle Konrad."
Maverick Raab: "Uncle Konrad's doing a great job. He's junior and the Cross champion."
Lord Raab: "He is. Still, I want to make things better for both of you, even if we are here because of my match against Mitch Heart on Monday, but I also wanted today just to be us three. Tomorrow, you will spend time with Samuel."
Both of his sons nodded as they slid down the slide a few times, even with Lord Raab's guidance as the playground was empty. Maverick and Callum went on the monkey bars, doing a few chin-ups before they came back. They were in the playground for two hours. It was a side Henry never saw with Lord Raab before.
Callum and Maverick hugged Raab which for the first time in public, he accepts it. He then held their hands and walked back. As Callum and Maverick went straight in the headquarters home, Henry went to his apartment and went to the office room and says this.
Henry Losak: "I'm so proud of you. The way you let them hug you, and you were holding their hands, that was touching. I know how hard it was for you to get your points across to them.
Lord Raab: "I had to be honest. It seems like Callum understood why it was a struggle for me to be a dad. I had to let them hug me as hard it was for me to accept it. I find love difficult."
Henry Losak: "I could see you were tense before you suddenly accepted their hug. You did it, and you haven't been as open as you were with them. Now, I let you get back to your parent duties."
Lord Raab: "I will and then get back to these therapy sessions tomorrow."
Henry nodded, agreeing they had to go straight back to them or at least doing them in Baltimore for the time being which luckily, the therapist has made a special arrangement to come to Baltimore, to support Lord Raab. Raab leaves the office and heads to spend time with Samuel and the kids for family time of playing board games the rest of the day.
------------------------------------------------
Redoing the social anxiety disorder sessions. Baltimore, Maryland. Saturday 10th September (Off Camera)
Because they were using the office room, they had to thoroughly clean everything with antibacterial wipes so Wagner could see the room was clean. As Henry collected Wagner from security point, they go straight in the office together, and Henry sits next to Raab, waiting patiently, more to get the therapy out of the way.
Doctor Wagner: "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Henry Losak: "Indeed, it has."
Doctor Wagner: "So, let's talk about these freakouts. Can you tell me why you kept freaking out?"
Lord Raab: "Because I was sick of seeing people. I wanted to go home, away from the hotel bullshit, I wanted to wrestle in Carnage, but no, I had to be locked in a fucking hotel and forcing myself to train with asshole wrestlers."
Wagner nodded like he expected Raab to freak out because of social interactions which is what Lord Raab fears of daily.
Doctor Wagner: "Well, you're getting that chance now, when your facing against Mitch was it I heard?"
Henry Losak: "Yes, Mitch Heart on Monday."
Doctor Wagner: "At least that's made you happier to be alone and doing what you want here. Carnage seems to be less strict on the matters at hand."
Lord Raab: "I'm thankful for that, but what if there's another lockdown? Will I be restricted to working in one company again? Fuck no, I'm not going to put up with that shit. If it happens again, I will go to my home where I have the freedom to train privately and the freedom to be alone. I don't give a shit about the other wrestlers or anyone, besides my family, of course."
Wagner wrote some notes down, paying in mind of what Lord Raab's saying without Henry saying a single word. It was something Raab needed more than Henry did to speak directly.
Doctor Wagner: "I know you're scared of interacting with everyone, but you need to make a start with that. As I mentioned before, how are Callum and Maverick going to learn to interact with other children if you avoid talking to people?"
Lord Raab: "I don't care for other parents. Just because Callum and Maverick are friends with them, doesn't mean I want to know about these stupid parents. I don't care about their lives. As long as my sons are happy, that's the main thing."
Doctor Wagner: "This isn't about making your sons happy and interactive; this is about you being interactive. I know the thought of you keeps going back to the past but come on Markus, not everyone is going to treat you so horribly in the streets. Will it kill you to talk to people you don't know?"
Lord Raab: "Of course it fucking does. I told you, I don't care what they do with their lives. I don't need friends. I'm happy being alone with Samuel, my sons and my family thank you."
Wagner shook his head, still the same Markus as he knew before lockdown with his refusal to chat to anyone outside of his comfort zone. It was hard for Henry to take in, even with Markus being happy to be alone when Samuel goes out with his friends.
Henry Losak: "I can't believe your happy with your family. Samuel has his friends, why can't you gain some?"
Lord Raab: "Because I don't know what the fuck to say. I don't know if I'll care about their opinions."
Doctor Wagner: "I think what we need to do is take Markus to a social club and get him to be confident in talking to people. Everyone needs friends Markus, that's the fact of life. I know you want to wrestle all the time, along with training and taking your kids out, but you can't live your life like this. You need to socialise."
Lord Raab: "I can't. I don't like it."
Henry Losak: "We all do things we don't like doing, but we have to benefit ourselves."
Lord Raab: "What benefits me right now is getting in the gym to prepare for Mitch Heart."
Doctor Wagner: "I kinda agree there, but at the same time, you do need to do more social activities. I better get back and do online calls with other patients; we'll meet up again soon."
Lord Raab nodded as Henry and Wagner stood up and went down to the entrance to the headquarters and Wagner leaves which left Raab and Henry by themselves. Raab goes to his gym and workout, while Henry has a lot of paperwork to do for Samuel and Raab with their Carnage and GRIME Wrestling careers as well.
What sort of name for a hardcore wrestler is heart? Ustream.com shoot. (On Camera)
"I mean seriously now, what kind of hardcore wrestler names himself heart? I don't know, but it seems to me your a weak little bitch. Of course, I know you're not, but just the name sounds it. Anyway, Mitch, I get back to saying why your not a weak bitch. Because I've seen that violent match you had against Rat King and I loved everything you did in the match. It got me entertained because at; first, I thought you weren't a hardcore wrestler, but that match took me back to it, proving me wrong on so many levels that you are a hardcore wrestler.
I'm also aware you're on an undefeated streak coming in this match or at least you are as a solo's competitor. Excellent stuff from what I've seen and destroyed many opponents before you, even in your recent match against Dominick. I don't often say this to wrestlers, but I do respect you and what you've done in Carnage so far. I won't lie to say you'll be a more challenging opponent to face and a perfect one too.
Not like Mac, who feels hardcore wrestlers like us are untalented and have no wrestling skills. Think he needs to get the fuck out of here and work somewhere where hardcore wrestling doesn't exist, leaving hardcore loving wrestlers like us to bring everything to the table in Carnage. Yes, I know you're going to say your not afraid of me, but you better will be when I throw everything, including the kitchen sink at your head because you've not been in many hardcore matches since you joined Carnage Wrestling.
You used to live in poverty how typical of a hardcore wrestler to be living in those conditions compared to me. I lived and breathed hardcore wrestling by sneaking in a wrestling venue and got hands-on training to wrestle. Regular wrestling matches bore me to death, but there was one hardcore match I fell in love with, getting me interested in the sport.
But saying that, you've not fought against the top opponents yet and I admit, you are a future title contender in Carnage from what I've seen already. However, I won't hesitate to fuck you up with my bare hands and throwing you around like a bitch you are to me. I've fought plenty of scraps like you in the past and had some vicious hardcore battles which Tweeder can attest to on how violent and sick son of a bitch I can be.
I may have lost last show, but that doesn't mean shit to me, considering I fought Mac as a pissed off monster and I'm still pissed off because of the other place I was it stopped me from wrestling in Carnage. Not anymore because it's only satisfied the hunger and passion for me to be the first wrestler here to defeat you in a hardcore match. You may have had a tie against Rat King, but I assure you that you will have a lot harder time to defeat me with ultra-violent rules into play and teaching the roster how we fuck each other up.
But sadly for you as hard as you try and as easy you've been getting those wins in solos matches and being undefeated, that will come to an end when you face someone who's not afraid to bust you wide open with and without weapons and you will struggle to breath when I'll choke you with my fist. It's nothing personal, but I came to Carnage at a perfect timing where there was no chance in hell I was going to miss wrestling for this Chaos one-hundredth Supershow to show everyone that The Masked German Monster is very well alive.
I never gave up to be a champion around here and sure, that was a one-off slip I made, but now, my goal is to beat you with smashing a chair across your skull and put you through a flaming table because I've made a career out of those lately, along with flamed cage matches as well. This is a match everyone expects us to throw bombs and violence on one another, but I will break you because your size is like a toy I can twist and break easily without any effort.
I will bloody you so bad that you will remember me by the end of tomorrow night and I've never looked forward to wrestling a hardcore match in Carnage because it's been way too long and I will be in front of the title contention for the Ultra Violent title. Strangely, you haven't had the opportunity yet with the winning streak you've had, but it will come crashing down on your knees, feeling sorry you did nothing before I came around and throw, bust you open and send you to the hospital.
Because I won't be sorry for anything, I'll do to you, precisely what monster like myself would do. I will break your arm or leg, not being able to move after you've fought with a fucked up monster who has no morals or value of life. I'm a horrible monster who will be in your nightmares in many years to come because after I've done everything to cripple you, to use weapons across your head and using one hand to lift you, you won't be able to move to get yourself out of the ring.
I won't hesitate to drop you with my double brainbuster move on a steel chair or putting you through a flaming table to pin you for the three count because that's what I'll do a scrap like you with a stupid surname that's fitting for a puppy. The rise of Lord Raab will begin on this show, and I will advance with my career, capturing the Ultra Violent title, while you have to wait until I grab the belt.
Tomorrow night, you're fucked and be in a whole world of pain because you'll prepare yourself to be Raabinated by The Masked German Monster, being the first wrestler in Carnage to break you down and break your winning streak your on in solo's matches."
Post by Mitch 'The Broken' Heart on Oct 11, 2020 19:06:30 GMT -5
Adaptation.
It felt different.
Mitch was used to feeling the air around him, the ground beneath. The wind and occasionally stray gravel stinging his cheeks and whipping through his short hair, the asphalt below him a blur of black and yellow. He was always so close to it. One wrong move from hitting that road at fifty-five miles an hour, the impact crushing bone and the abrasive tarmac peeling the skin from his flesh. He was a practiced rider, he knew the likelihood of him crashing was slim, barring the irresponsibility of some other fuck, but there was still a thrilling sense of danger every time he revved the engine and felt it humming beneath him.
Enclosed, in a climate controlled environment surrounded by reinforced steel and shatterproof glass, seat belt buckled and air bag at the ready just in case, that thrill was muted. Even in the car he’d managed to get, a powerful number with a badass looking design, he couldn’t feel as connected to the roar of the engine, as in tune to the vehicle’s responses. He drove fine, it was just… not the same.
Yet, Mitch was a responsible enough big brother to know that traveling with a small and fragile passenger called for something a little more secure and with a bit more cargo room than his old motorcycle. So he’d gone to the Enterprise, slid over part of Mr. Alex Winter’s cash, and come away with a Dodge Challenger. Pen had squealed in delight the moment she laid eyes on it, and was now leaning as far to the side in her passenger seat as she could, nose pressed to the cool glass. There was Van Halen on the radio, a marathon tribute that this particular rock station was putting on, and little going on out the window but expanses of brown corn stalks waiting to be threshed.
Mitch’s eyes flicked to the right, a fond little grin creeping onto his lips.
“Hey. Why don’t you get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long drive and to be honest this is probably the most boring stretch of road there is. I mean, we gotta cut through Ohio. Is that really worth seeing, kiddo?”
“Yup. I wanna see everything.”
“Okay. Just don’t be afraid to lean the seat back and take a nap if you get tired. Eight and a half hours is a long time.”
Pen hummed in response, slipping on a pair of pink and white DJ style headphones, slipping into her own personal soundtrack. Mitch let his eyes go fully back to the road ahead of him. It was dull, really, a long drive with little to see in most parts. He’d considered taking an upward pass through the Buckeye State and driving through Sandusky so Pen could get a glimpse of Cedar Point’s sweeping skyline of multicolored steel hills, but in retrospect, deliberately driving an eleven year old past an amusement park he wasn’t planning on going to was a bit of a cruel prospect, even to provide some neat scenery.
And so, with an overcast sky, terrain alternating between brown and the last stubborn green resisting autumn, and Pen in her own little world, Mitch let his thoughts trail around to the past few weeks. He could still see two sets of terrified eyes in his mind. Two similar expressions. Two similar events. Both the dirtier side of the life he led, all part of the struggle.
But was it really? He’d robbed the skinny kid outside of the Silver Cricket because he’d needed the money. There was nothing personal, outside a trickle of the stick-it-to-the-man sort of self satisfaction he got every time he relieved the wealthy of resources they didn’t need. In fact, he regretted it a bit. The kid had only wanted friends. He was obviously lonely and craving the things his bottomless trust fund couldn’t buy. But Mitch’s need had been stronger than his sense of mercy, and even now, it scratched as his conscience like the dry branches of a dead tree.
The other was different altogether. Yes, he’d profited some off it. But the money wasn’t why he’d robbed Alex Winter- it was principle. Winter had attacked Matt Knox when he was most vulnerable and unable to fight back. Mitch had retaliated, and the sense of fear, frustration, and helplessness he’d seen as he held Winter at knifepoint didn’t cause him guilt- in fact, he’d felt nothing but satisfaction, leaving the insufferable bastard alone, naked and humiliated. The bonfire that Winter’s obnoxious car had become was warmer and more comforting to Mitch than any brick-lined hearth could have been.
But Knox wanted him to be good. And in what was a shock to even Mitch himself, he cared about what Knox wanted for him. There was something about the older man that made him trust faster and feel safer than he did around most people, even those he called friends. It was as if for some reason, out of all people, Knox filled a hole in his life that had sat empty for longer than Mitch could remember.
Mitch knew what that hole was. But he wasn’t going to admit it out loud, even in his own thoughts. It was weird. There was an age gap between them but not that big of one, and he couldn’t expect Knox to even know what to say to such a thing. Best to just keep it to himself and be glad it was there at all.
Even so, when it came to the matter of money, Mitch balked. He always did. It wasn’t the first offer of help he’d received since he’d started opening up to people. Part of him wanted to accept it. Tell his friends he needed help sometimes, that no matter how much he busted his ass there always seemed to be something waiting in the weeds to gobble up any precious nest egg he built. Yet, every time he thought of doing so, he thought of the prospect of being indebted to someone. There were always people on the streets who offered a hand, who always offered just the thing to get the desperate out of dire straits- and would always come back later demanding some unsavory favor or the other. .
It was silly. Knox, Ade, Silvio, they were good people. King too, in his odd way. None of them would willfully seek to screw him over. It was the first in a long time he could truly say that and believe it. But whenever it came to asking for help or accepting what was offered, an ugly little voice in the back of his mind always said ‘what if’, and as hard as he tried, he just couldn’t ignore it. So he came up with something- he’d get by, it was his responsibility to make things work and he couldn’t pass it off to anyone. And that was true.
It also kept him from saying ‘yeah that’s nice, thanks, and what are you going to want from me later on?’ Because his friends were good people.They would never willingly screw him over.
Until, perhaps, one day, far past his or their reckoning, maybe, just maybe, they would.
“So you’re a monster, apparently.”
Mitch Heart sat on the hood of a black muscle car, the glossy paint splashed with the reflection of the sky above. The clouds had broken up, and were painted in chunks of deep purple against a gradient orange sky. The sunset was absolutely gorgeous.
Behind him was a highway rest area somewhere on I-70 that likely could have been anywhere in the three state chunk of country nestled in between Michigan and Maryland. The place was fairly deserted, being well past summer road trip season, some grassy ground with a couple picnic tables and a pair of buildings at the end of a paved walk- one housed restrooms, the other a small collection of vending machines.
Raising a cigarette to his lips, Mitch took a long drag before exhaling a plume of smoke.
“I mean, that’s what you say. ‘Masked German Monster.’ I give you two thirds credit. Unfortunately, you got the last part wrong, Raab. You see- I know monsters. I’m in the rare company of those who do. I know hulking, screaming beasts with no fear and a lust for combat, who retort to a volley of punches to the heart with a chain wrapped punch to the face. Giants of a biblical fucking nature who heal as soon as you make them bleed and make the bravest of men think twice about crossing them.”
A bit of ash was flicked away, another thoughtful pull taken from the half burnt Lucky Strike, the Broken’s shoulders briefly rising in a shrug.
“It’s a pretty tough list to meet. Not everyone who aspires to be a monster can be one. And as my worthy rival Zane King is the measuring stick around these parts, I’d have to say… heh. What you are, Raab, is a dollar store Lab Rat King. Passable in a pinch, but pretty incomparable to the real deal. The diet coke of monster."
A vicious smirk played across his face. Behind his eyes, a ravenous glint flicked to life.
“See, this ain’t the place you left. Maybe you could pass muster before you decided to take your little sabbatical- after all, you’ve got the hardware on the books to prove it. Maybe then, you really were a monster. Yeah. I can see you back in the day, being all imposing, throwing your weight around and raking in the W’s. But see, Raab… that was then.”
He waved a hand dismissively, the ember of his cigarette tracing a brief trail of light in the darkening evening. The light poles around the rest area clicked on, providing a light electrical hum in the background.
“This is now. Things have changed and things are changing still… because my friends and I are the ones changing it. Easy wins are a thing of the past- now, everyone has to really fight for what they get, because everyone here is just that fucking good. The fighters are tougher. The flyers fly higher. Those with potential shine brighter, and the monsters? They’re more monstrous. And this is to the benefit of everyone. The name of the game is elevation. Evolution. The laurels you rest on have decayed to fucking dust, and it seems that while you were gone? Carnage passed you by.”
One last pull on the cig is drawn in and exhaled, the remnants ground out and dropped to the asphalt. Mitch gave the camera a hard forward look, flashing the refreshed Ace of Hearts on the back of his hand.
“Mac Bane gave you a hard lesson in that. Even as part of the old guard, the cowboy’s upped his game. He’s better than you remember, but blind to that fact you called him a little bitch. He responded by moving circles around you and crushing you into the canvas. He and Amber weren’t beaten by Silvio and Kohaku- you say it like it’s fucking spelled, you racist piece of shit- because they were weak or pathetic. They were beaten because Silvio and Kohaku are the fucking future. So am I, Raab. I’m a breed like you’ve never seen. I’m not a monster like you say you are, I don’t claim that distinction.”
His lips split, his teeth baring in a smile that was more akin to a snarl.
“I’m a goddamn wild animal. I survive at all costs. I do what I need to keep me and mine breathing, no matter what it takes. If getting down in the muck and playing dirty is what needs done, that’s what I do. If I need to cross the line to keep my heart beating? I’ll cross it twice. My friends are capable, talented fighters. They’re good people. But me? I’m a broken, vicious piece of shit, and the animal I am will lay your throat open and bring your entrails to light. I don’t fear the most terrifying of monsters that cut swaths of blood behind them- what makes you think I’d be afraid of a tired, puffed up, obsolete old monster like you?”
Glancing behind him, he spots a figure in the distance emerging from one of the buildings. Rolling his shoulders, he rests his chin on his knuckles.
“The future is now, Raab, and you are ridiculously unprepared. Chaos 100 is going to mark the beginning of Carnage’s golden age, and we don’t need any dead weight holding us back. Ol’ Chuck Darwin was absolutely correct- natural selection is a thing. It’s happening right now.”
He leaned forward, his hungry, unnerving grin filling the camera.
“Adapt or fucking die.”
Black.
Several hours later, the stars were sparkling in the sky like diamonds on sable, the moon waning gibbous. The cloudy day had given way to a lovely, clear night.
“Pen, check it out.”
You never saw a sky like this in Detroit. The light pollution was too thick to see all but the most stubbornly bright stars. But as Mitch went to tap his sister on the shoulder, he paused. She was finally asleep. He decided not to wake her- he’d make it a point to make sure she saw it on the way back if the weather was good.
It’d be about an hour and a half. Home stretch. Everything was quiet and still, the traffic down the interstate sparse.
But me? I’m a broken, vicious piece of shit.
It was far from the first time that Mitch had serious doubts about his own worth, and it wouldn’t be the last. But he didn’t have any illusions about what he was. He wished he could live up to Knox’s assessment that he was a good person. Maybe in some facets he was.
But someone who lived off the thrill of combat and the rush of blood, who would cheerfully dive through a nest of barbed wire and trade crushing blows with an invincible monster, would bleed and shed blood and out of all of it feel not survival but the ecstasy of being alive…
...a thrilling feeling that always came when he engaged in forcible wealth redistribution, no matter how much or little remorse he felt after…
