Post by damien drake on Jul 15, 2016 18:49:08 GMT -5
The blue Nova pulls up in front of a large home. Damien parks the car and gets out, just getting home from the bar. Walking onto the porch, he opens the front door and steps into the home he shared with three other people. Slamming the door behind him, he made his way up the stairs towards his bedroom. Damien walks inside and grabs a bag containing all of his bathroom gear. Picking up a towel, Damien walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
About an hour later, the door opens and Damien walks out, his long hair now gone, along with most of his beard, he stood there looking like a completely different person. Wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans and a tight muscle shirt, tattoos were now visible that had long remained covered up. Damien walks into his room and throws his bathroom gear on his bed. Walking to a closet, Damien opens the door and pulls out a large trunk and places it on top of his dresser. He walks back to the closet and grabs a large military styled duffel bag. Damien opens the bag on his way back to the trunk and begins to pull things from his past out. A pair of wrestling boots, a couple pairs of trunks and two knee pads. He throws tem into the bag and then covers them up with random clothes he pulls out of various dressers. Topping it off with his bag of bath stuff, he picks it up and walks back downstairs.
Damien reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. He takes off his key for the front door and walks into the living room, where one of his roommates sits Playing videogames on his PS4.
Damien: Brian.
The kid looks up from his game and Damien tosses him the key.
Damien: I’m leaving.
Brian: when are you coming back?
Damien: I’m not.
Brian: what about your stuff?
Damien: Sell it.
Damien turns and walks out the door, leaving this part of his life behind.
______________
For years, I was sure I was done for good. There was no more desire, no more drive to accomplish anything. I floundered around the bottom of the barrel, not going anywhere, the whole time passing the blame of my downward spiral onto anyone I could. I came in to this business with so much hype, thanks to the company I kept at the time, that I thought I could get away with taking the easy route and just have everything handed to me. I wasn’t a fan of the business as much as I was a fan of the perks. Drugs, money, booze and all the women you could handle, who would want to turn that down? Finally it got to a point where I know longer felt I was in control as much as I was an outsider watching someone else pull the strings.
Then one day, I woke up and I left.
Finally in control of myself for the first time in forever, I made the decision to walk away. I didn’t want anything to do with this business any longer. I didn’t watch it, I didn’t talk about, and I didn’t even look at anything on the internet about it. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist any longer and I didn’t miss any of it.
I went back to my brother’s house, and I got cleaned up. My hair and my beard grew out to the point that there was no chance anyone would ever recognize the person that I once was. Damien Drake was dead and buried; Marshall Dill was free to live a normal and boring life. That was fine by me. I found a job and a place to live. I was content to just sit back and live a meaningless life as life just passed by.
Years went by as I lived this way, satisfied with my dull existence. I went to work, I came home. I turned into a vegetable in front of my television just like millions of other people in this world. Nobody paid Marshall Dill any mind, and I didn’t care about the world. I found comfort in the bottom of a liquor bottle, making sure all remnants of my past stayed drowned out of memory.
Then one day, it all came flooding back. Just one time, seeing two men brawl in a ring, and it was all it took to relight the fire that once burned inside. Every part of Damien that I had pushed down and thought buried away for good came crawling and digging back into the forefront. Goodbye Marshall, hello Damien. I could feel all of it come rushing into my soul. The sounds of the crowd, listening to thousands of people react to what I do in the ring. The adrenaline rush I’d get from manhandling a lesser being in the squared circle. Knowing that everyone in the building were watching what I could do and knowing they were terrified by the beast they saw in front of him. Feeding off of the responses of the people watching, and wanting more. The man I once was is back, and the hunger I originally felt to be among the best is back and stronger than ever.
The monster is back and raging once again. Get off the Meth, clear the Static and forget about the Vengeance, all that remains is Drake.
This time, there will be no distractions. There will be no more mentions of the past. From this moment on, Damien Drake starts with a clean slate. The first mark on that slate will be the names Mic Strong, Heath Sommersby and Taryn Willow.
Three people that did nothing more but make the mistake of joining a new place at the same time as a machine built to destroy. Hoping to find whatever it is they are looking for, becoming a somebody in the eyes of others only to have that dream destroyed in front of their very eyes.
Once I step back in that ring and hear the bell ring, there will be no time for jokes, no time to placate to the crowd. The three of you are about to enter a world of pain and misery the likes of which you have never experienced. Train as hard as you can, prepare yourselves for the beating of your life, because I promise you that is what you are going to get.
Taryn Willow, you want to run your mouth, butt hurt that I am no longer paying you any attention. Sitting at your home like a desperate teenage girl looking at her phone every few seconds hoping that it will say that I am thinking about you. It won’t. I said what I needed to say with words, the rest that needs to be said will be done with actions. Unimportant in the long run, I will steamroll through you and move on to a bigger stage. You will be nothing more than a check in my win column.
Here’s some advice for you, team up with these other two jack asses. Bring everything the three of you can muster. I will swat them both down like flies then I will take my time dissecting you and making you feel pain in places you didn’t think you could. When I am done, you will regret ever having uttered my name.
Now run along and make me a sandwich.
Mic Strong, Heath Sommersby, do not for one second think that I have forgotten either of you. While you may be sitting at home trying to figure out what to do to make a good impression in a four way match, I live for the chaos that this match presents. The more damage that can be made, the better. It is my intention to make sure that all of you will be lying in a heap of your own bile as my hand is raised in victory, covered in your blood.
This isn’t business, this is all personal. By stepping into that ring and facing me in a match, you have become a target. I will not rest, I will not stop, nor will I surrender until I am one hundred percent positive that I have left an impression on NGW that will never be forgotten. You are walking into a battle that none of you has any hope of walking away from.
I must break you.
Once the match starts, I will make with the violence, and nothing will be the same again.
About an hour later, the door opens and Damien walks out, his long hair now gone, along with most of his beard, he stood there looking like a completely different person. Wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans and a tight muscle shirt, tattoos were now visible that had long remained covered up. Damien walks into his room and throws his bathroom gear on his bed. Walking to a closet, Damien opens the door and pulls out a large trunk and places it on top of his dresser. He walks back to the closet and grabs a large military styled duffel bag. Damien opens the bag on his way back to the trunk and begins to pull things from his past out. A pair of wrestling boots, a couple pairs of trunks and two knee pads. He throws tem into the bag and then covers them up with random clothes he pulls out of various dressers. Topping it off with his bag of bath stuff, he picks it up and walks back downstairs.
Damien reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. He takes off his key for the front door and walks into the living room, where one of his roommates sits Playing videogames on his PS4.
Damien: Brian.
The kid looks up from his game and Damien tosses him the key.
Damien: I’m leaving.
Brian: when are you coming back?
Damien: I’m not.
Brian: what about your stuff?
Damien: Sell it.
Damien turns and walks out the door, leaving this part of his life behind.
______________
For years, I was sure I was done for good. There was no more desire, no more drive to accomplish anything. I floundered around the bottom of the barrel, not going anywhere, the whole time passing the blame of my downward spiral onto anyone I could. I came in to this business with so much hype, thanks to the company I kept at the time, that I thought I could get away with taking the easy route and just have everything handed to me. I wasn’t a fan of the business as much as I was a fan of the perks. Drugs, money, booze and all the women you could handle, who would want to turn that down? Finally it got to a point where I know longer felt I was in control as much as I was an outsider watching someone else pull the strings.
Then one day, I woke up and I left.
Finally in control of myself for the first time in forever, I made the decision to walk away. I didn’t want anything to do with this business any longer. I didn’t watch it, I didn’t talk about, and I didn’t even look at anything on the internet about it. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist any longer and I didn’t miss any of it.
I went back to my brother’s house, and I got cleaned up. My hair and my beard grew out to the point that there was no chance anyone would ever recognize the person that I once was. Damien Drake was dead and buried; Marshall Dill was free to live a normal and boring life. That was fine by me. I found a job and a place to live. I was content to just sit back and live a meaningless life as life just passed by.
Years went by as I lived this way, satisfied with my dull existence. I went to work, I came home. I turned into a vegetable in front of my television just like millions of other people in this world. Nobody paid Marshall Dill any mind, and I didn’t care about the world. I found comfort in the bottom of a liquor bottle, making sure all remnants of my past stayed drowned out of memory.
Then one day, it all came flooding back. Just one time, seeing two men brawl in a ring, and it was all it took to relight the fire that once burned inside. Every part of Damien that I had pushed down and thought buried away for good came crawling and digging back into the forefront. Goodbye Marshall, hello Damien. I could feel all of it come rushing into my soul. The sounds of the crowd, listening to thousands of people react to what I do in the ring. The adrenaline rush I’d get from manhandling a lesser being in the squared circle. Knowing that everyone in the building were watching what I could do and knowing they were terrified by the beast they saw in front of him. Feeding off of the responses of the people watching, and wanting more. The man I once was is back, and the hunger I originally felt to be among the best is back and stronger than ever.
The monster is back and raging once again. Get off the Meth, clear the Static and forget about the Vengeance, all that remains is Drake.
This time, there will be no distractions. There will be no more mentions of the past. From this moment on, Damien Drake starts with a clean slate. The first mark on that slate will be the names Mic Strong, Heath Sommersby and Taryn Willow.
Three people that did nothing more but make the mistake of joining a new place at the same time as a machine built to destroy. Hoping to find whatever it is they are looking for, becoming a somebody in the eyes of others only to have that dream destroyed in front of their very eyes.
Once I step back in that ring and hear the bell ring, there will be no time for jokes, no time to placate to the crowd. The three of you are about to enter a world of pain and misery the likes of which you have never experienced. Train as hard as you can, prepare yourselves for the beating of your life, because I promise you that is what you are going to get.
Taryn Willow, you want to run your mouth, butt hurt that I am no longer paying you any attention. Sitting at your home like a desperate teenage girl looking at her phone every few seconds hoping that it will say that I am thinking about you. It won’t. I said what I needed to say with words, the rest that needs to be said will be done with actions. Unimportant in the long run, I will steamroll through you and move on to a bigger stage. You will be nothing more than a check in my win column.
Here’s some advice for you, team up with these other two jack asses. Bring everything the three of you can muster. I will swat them both down like flies then I will take my time dissecting you and making you feel pain in places you didn’t think you could. When I am done, you will regret ever having uttered my name.
Now run along and make me a sandwich.
Mic Strong, Heath Sommersby, do not for one second think that I have forgotten either of you. While you may be sitting at home trying to figure out what to do to make a good impression in a four way match, I live for the chaos that this match presents. The more damage that can be made, the better. It is my intention to make sure that all of you will be lying in a heap of your own bile as my hand is raised in victory, covered in your blood.
This isn’t business, this is all personal. By stepping into that ring and facing me in a match, you have become a target. I will not rest, I will not stop, nor will I surrender until I am one hundred percent positive that I have left an impression on NGW that will never be forgotten. You are walking into a battle that none of you has any hope of walking away from.
I must break you.
Once the match starts, I will make with the violence, and nothing will be the same again.