Post by Johnny Violence on Mar 21, 2021 20:53:44 GMT -5
Insects buzzed. In the distance you could hear a trickling of a running river. Moose bellowed it’s short, high pitched call. Others shared in the ritual. Birds chirped, sat perched high upon their stoops. Their feathers ruffled by the majestic beast who slumbered below their branches.
Beauty, the black beautiful stallion usually found under Johnny Violence has her legs curled so tightly and her head resting heavily while her snores rumble the ground as greatly as her trample.
Feet away the ground rumbles but for a different reason.
After a few thwacks, Johnny drops a mallet to the ground. He stands before a wooden wall. Logs standing almost as tall as their former glory, side by side tied together stretched out far into the woods. As far as the eye can see. To his right was a small break in the wall directly in the trails path parting it and a wooden pike with a head… the head of Sebastian “Switchblxde” Sharpe. His eyes rolled back in his head, his tongue stuck out. Flies buzzed around him. How long had he been there? Where was the rest of him? What was that smell?
Craaaack. Crunch.
Beside Johnny’s feet sat a cloth bag, in his hands was a head… the head of Viduus Morta. Eyes rolled back, tongue hanging out, Johnny was twisting and turning, getting it just right on his own pike. “Alas, poor Yorick.” Johnny quotes before stepping back and admiring his work. The Great Wall of Violence.
“It’s more of a toll booth.”
Wait. What?
“Everywhere you go, there is always someone who will remind you that no matter where you’ve been… you leave it all at the door. Nobody cares. You’ve carried a champion? You’ve carried six? How many of them have been in our ring? You can travel the world and the seven seas but you’re nothing when this is the first time you’re stepping into their world. It’s nothing new to anyone who’s been around the block. It’s what old heads call “paying your dues”.
“You don’t complain. You don’t say a word. If you’re good enough, confident enough, you can win a title… you can win six. With enough respect, with enough time, sweat and blood you can earn your opportunities, you can reach the peak of the mountain. For a period of time you can rule the countryside with an iron fist.
“However.” Johnny pauses. He peeks over his shoulder, eyes squinted for a brief thought.
What is he looking at?
He smirked and let out a small laugh under a sigh of breath.
Can you see us? What are we? Are we even a “we”? Am I an I? How did we even get here?
He just turns his attention back to his barrier.
“However. When you walk in with overconfidence and a chip on your shoulder, all eyes are on you. Their glare could set you on fire. You don’t walk on eggshells, you stumble across hot coals. You waltz down to that ring past the long line of people waiting their turn and you slap the face of the company with all the disrespect five fingers can muster… and what do you get?
“Title shots? Attention?”
What do you want?
Johnny turned around. Gravel crunched beneath his boots, the grass pierced the eardrums with its dog-like whistle as it squeaked with friction. He was looking us in the eyes.
He was looking us in the eyes.
“Who the fuck is Karen Willow?
“What do I want? To know who the fuck Emery Layton is. Why the fuck we’re giving Cartier a Union sensation like Anna Daniels. Besides a lovers quarrel, what did a cur bitch like Daniel MacNamara do to deserve the opportunity of his life time?
“What do I want?
“Everything.”
Johnny walks over to the entrance of the wall. Before our eyes peer beyond the fence, Johnny pulls down a large wooden plank that blocks the entirety of the path.
“I want it all. Everybody. Everything they have to offer. I want to run their pockets, snatch their jewels. I want to work them to the bone, to bring each and every single person to their absolute breaking point. I want the glory, the fame, the rise, the fall, the shame.
“I want it all.
“There’s… never a certainty in this business. Every so often when one place closes its doors, there’s always a group of lost souls wandering stuck in purgatory until a new company opens their doors and they find a new messiah to worship. There’s always a new hope.
”And I want everything.”
Thunder rumbles. Lightning flashes. Beauty had finished her slumber.
Johnny Violence, one moment in plain working man’s clothes meters away from his sleeping stallion in a flash, was dressed from neck to toe in his black armor atop his mighty steed. His sword had found a comfortable crook to rest in his firm grasp. A rather grey spring afternoon was turned to night. The powerful duo were barely silhouettes in the crackling flame of the torches holstered to the wooden wall.
Johnny stood vigilant.
“I’ve had enough. Enough of champions having a midlife crisis and seeking some sort of… retribution, some type of career resurgence. Enough of being looked at like a stepping stone to catapult others into the stratosphere.
“I’ve had enough of people following the paths I’ve paved only for them to take what’s mine.”
He points the sword down at us.
He points the sword down at us?!
“I’ve faced the fUtUrE oF tHiS bUiSnEsS-“ Johnny mockingly points at Sebastian. “I’ve faced the past of this company.” Obviously Johnny brings your attention to the only other head on the pike. “And without prejudice, I proved to be quite the… road block for each of them.
“And unfortunately for you, alas poor Schadenfreude, if you’ve been following along this long, you’ll find yourself with a small price to pay.”
Schadenfreude? Am I… Schadenfreude?
“Every single person who steps up to the gate is Schadenfreude, as far as I’m concerned.”
What the fuck is Schadenfreude, anyways?
“That little spark of joy you get from others' demise.”
We all are Schadenfreude.
“But that’s where we differ.
“I have taken pleasure in a lot of things… that… first bite of a cigar when you’re a double and a half of rye in a glass deep… or that heavenly scent of a woman of your desire that just makes you absolutely palpitate… but the misfortune of others…
“... the conquering of man…”
Johnny had no smirk this time. He was distraught. His lips almost trembled. He was solemn.
“It was never something I could take pleasure in.
“The demise of others is something I’ve learned to accept is just a natural order of things. In order for a Phoenix to rise from ashes, others must first burn and perish. In order to thrive one must eat while others must be eaten.
“When I say I’m hungry, I don’t salivate at the mouth to end another man’s career. I don’t wish for the weak or the meek. I don’t boast about those who never stood a chance. In fact my stomach is in knots from fremdscham every time a worthy adversary slips off even a bead of sweat and ends up vulnerable. What satiates this man’s hunger is all in pure competition. I crave competition. So much so I had to build a wall to funnel the rest of the world to my doorstep. To stop people with overconfidence like Schadenfreude or Tapp Wrestling jumping my line and to stop people looking for their second or third chance like Michael Hayden and using everyone like their personal stepping stones. One day Bryan Williams and Miles Lucky will find themselves before my gates and they too will have a toll to pay.”
Johnny sheaths his sword and dismounts from Beauty. He briefly stares towards the sky and lets out another small laugh through the breath of his nose.
“In fact, Indi Rhyder shouldn’t be too far behind.”
First he stops and eyes us up and down.
I assume we’re a “we” at this point. We’re in this together. Anyways, what are you looking at?
No seriously. I really want to know.
With a smirk on his face, his amour clinks and clanks as he shambles over to the gate and with a large creeeeak of the wood, Johnny lifts the gate.
“Anyways, stranger.”
Stranger?
“This is the only way in… or out for that matter for a couple miles unless you feel like crossing a small river or two. So I suppose you have two choices don’t you.” Johnny’s smile grew wider as he wrapped his hands around the swords handle again. “You can either prepare to fight…”
Whoa close up.
Johnny licked his lips.
“Or run for your life.”
I think we should leave now.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you the head start.”
Head start?
“Gute Reise, und viel Glück auf all deinen Wegen!”
There wasn’t time to ask anymore questions. Johnny was swinging his legs from stirrup to stirrup, mounting Beauty and unsheathing his sword to the midnight sky. The last thing you heard was Beauty’s terrifying whinny before the thunderous rumbling of her hooves.
I thought we had a headst—
Black.
Beauty, the black beautiful stallion usually found under Johnny Violence has her legs curled so tightly and her head resting heavily while her snores rumble the ground as greatly as her trample.
Feet away the ground rumbles but for a different reason.
After a few thwacks, Johnny drops a mallet to the ground. He stands before a wooden wall. Logs standing almost as tall as their former glory, side by side tied together stretched out far into the woods. As far as the eye can see. To his right was a small break in the wall directly in the trails path parting it and a wooden pike with a head… the head of Sebastian “Switchblxde” Sharpe. His eyes rolled back in his head, his tongue stuck out. Flies buzzed around him. How long had he been there? Where was the rest of him? What was that smell?
Craaaack. Crunch.
Beside Johnny’s feet sat a cloth bag, in his hands was a head… the head of Viduus Morta. Eyes rolled back, tongue hanging out, Johnny was twisting and turning, getting it just right on his own pike. “Alas, poor Yorick.” Johnny quotes before stepping back and admiring his work. The Great Wall of Violence.
“It’s more of a toll booth.”
Wait. What?
“Everywhere you go, there is always someone who will remind you that no matter where you’ve been… you leave it all at the door. Nobody cares. You’ve carried a champion? You’ve carried six? How many of them have been in our ring? You can travel the world and the seven seas but you’re nothing when this is the first time you’re stepping into their world. It’s nothing new to anyone who’s been around the block. It’s what old heads call “paying your dues”.
“You don’t complain. You don’t say a word. If you’re good enough, confident enough, you can win a title… you can win six. With enough respect, with enough time, sweat and blood you can earn your opportunities, you can reach the peak of the mountain. For a period of time you can rule the countryside with an iron fist.
“However.” Johnny pauses. He peeks over his shoulder, eyes squinted for a brief thought.
What is he looking at?
He smirked and let out a small laugh under a sigh of breath.
Can you see us? What are we? Are we even a “we”? Am I an I? How did we even get here?
He just turns his attention back to his barrier.
“However. When you walk in with overconfidence and a chip on your shoulder, all eyes are on you. Their glare could set you on fire. You don’t walk on eggshells, you stumble across hot coals. You waltz down to that ring past the long line of people waiting their turn and you slap the face of the company with all the disrespect five fingers can muster… and what do you get?
“Title shots? Attention?”
What do you want?
Johnny turned around. Gravel crunched beneath his boots, the grass pierced the eardrums with its dog-like whistle as it squeaked with friction. He was looking us in the eyes.
He was looking us in the eyes.
“Who the fuck is Karen Willow?
“What do I want? To know who the fuck Emery Layton is. Why the fuck we’re giving Cartier a Union sensation like Anna Daniels. Besides a lovers quarrel, what did a cur bitch like Daniel MacNamara do to deserve the opportunity of his life time?
“What do I want?
“Everything.”
Johnny walks over to the entrance of the wall. Before our eyes peer beyond the fence, Johnny pulls down a large wooden plank that blocks the entirety of the path.
“I want it all. Everybody. Everything they have to offer. I want to run their pockets, snatch their jewels. I want to work them to the bone, to bring each and every single person to their absolute breaking point. I want the glory, the fame, the rise, the fall, the shame.
“I want it all.
“There’s… never a certainty in this business. Every so often when one place closes its doors, there’s always a group of lost souls wandering stuck in purgatory until a new company opens their doors and they find a new messiah to worship. There’s always a new hope.
”And I want everything.”
Thunder rumbles. Lightning flashes. Beauty had finished her slumber.
Johnny Violence, one moment in plain working man’s clothes meters away from his sleeping stallion in a flash, was dressed from neck to toe in his black armor atop his mighty steed. His sword had found a comfortable crook to rest in his firm grasp. A rather grey spring afternoon was turned to night. The powerful duo were barely silhouettes in the crackling flame of the torches holstered to the wooden wall.
Johnny stood vigilant.
“I’ve had enough. Enough of champions having a midlife crisis and seeking some sort of… retribution, some type of career resurgence. Enough of being looked at like a stepping stone to catapult others into the stratosphere.
“I’ve had enough of people following the paths I’ve paved only for them to take what’s mine.”
He points the sword down at us.
He points the sword down at us?!
“I’ve faced the fUtUrE oF tHiS bUiSnEsS-“ Johnny mockingly points at Sebastian. “I’ve faced the past of this company.” Obviously Johnny brings your attention to the only other head on the pike. “And without prejudice, I proved to be quite the… road block for each of them.
“And unfortunately for you, alas poor Schadenfreude, if you’ve been following along this long, you’ll find yourself with a small price to pay.”
Schadenfreude? Am I… Schadenfreude?
“Every single person who steps up to the gate is Schadenfreude, as far as I’m concerned.”
What the fuck is Schadenfreude, anyways?
“That little spark of joy you get from others' demise.”
We all are Schadenfreude.
“But that’s where we differ.
“I have taken pleasure in a lot of things… that… first bite of a cigar when you’re a double and a half of rye in a glass deep… or that heavenly scent of a woman of your desire that just makes you absolutely palpitate… but the misfortune of others…
“... the conquering of man…”
Johnny had no smirk this time. He was distraught. His lips almost trembled. He was solemn.
“It was never something I could take pleasure in.
“The demise of others is something I’ve learned to accept is just a natural order of things. In order for a Phoenix to rise from ashes, others must first burn and perish. In order to thrive one must eat while others must be eaten.
“When I say I’m hungry, I don’t salivate at the mouth to end another man’s career. I don’t wish for the weak or the meek. I don’t boast about those who never stood a chance. In fact my stomach is in knots from fremdscham every time a worthy adversary slips off even a bead of sweat and ends up vulnerable. What satiates this man’s hunger is all in pure competition. I crave competition. So much so I had to build a wall to funnel the rest of the world to my doorstep. To stop people with overconfidence like Schadenfreude or Tapp Wrestling jumping my line and to stop people looking for their second or third chance like Michael Hayden and using everyone like their personal stepping stones. One day Bryan Williams and Miles Lucky will find themselves before my gates and they too will have a toll to pay.”
Johnny sheaths his sword and dismounts from Beauty. He briefly stares towards the sky and lets out another small laugh through the breath of his nose.
“In fact, Indi Rhyder shouldn’t be too far behind.”
First he stops and eyes us up and down.
I assume we’re a “we” at this point. We’re in this together. Anyways, what are you looking at?
No seriously. I really want to know.
With a smirk on his face, his amour clinks and clanks as he shambles over to the gate and with a large creeeeak of the wood, Johnny lifts the gate.
“Anyways, stranger.”
Stranger?
“This is the only way in… or out for that matter for a couple miles unless you feel like crossing a small river or two. So I suppose you have two choices don’t you.” Johnny’s smile grew wider as he wrapped his hands around the swords handle again. “You can either prepare to fight…”
Whoa close up.
Johnny licked his lips.
“Or run for your life.”
I think we should leave now.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you the head start.”
Head start?
“Gute Reise, und viel Glück auf all deinen Wegen!”
There wasn’t time to ask anymore questions. Johnny was swinging his legs from stirrup to stirrup, mounting Beauty and unsheathing his sword to the midnight sky. The last thing you heard was Beauty’s terrifying whinny before the thunderous rumbling of her hooves.
I thought we had a headst—
Black.