THE BARCELONA BLACK ROSE [:+:] SALVATION, THE MERCILESS
Although I am alone, I am not lonely. “Camila are you listening to me?!” JJ shouts in an attempt to grab my attention. Coming out of the haze of my own thoughts was always a bitch and to have JJ shouting at me, made it that much more complicated. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“You’ve been so brain dead lately Mila. You may want to purchase from a different dispensary, or cut back or something.” She says with a spliff lit between her fingers. “I’m only saying this because I care.” I smile at her and pay more attention to her, and what she is saying. She holds two shirts in the air. “Which one?” JJ quickly drops the shirts revealing two separate crowns.
My eyes jolted open as I shit a literal brick. “Oh my god! Shut up! Where did you find these?! My goodness their gorgeous!” I arose from my seat on our newly purchased private plane, equipt with two beds, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Beyond the door located in the back of the cabin leads to a four seater cabin with airplane seats and beyond that was the cockpit which was manned by two of the best pilots the Air Force could birth. We know how to keep it classy while protecting our investments.
My feet trampled over the tiger skin rug that lay over the plush lime green carpeting. We were probably on acid when we bought the thing, but we didn’t care, it was ours. All ours.
“Oh my goodness, they won’t know what hit them back in Michigan.” JJ exclaims while placing her crown on her head. I try mine on and discover it is a perfect fit before removing it and placing it on the bed that I claimed as my own. “Can I tell you something JJ?” She stops what she is doing and manages to take a seat on the bed across from mine. “What’s on your mind Mila?”
“Well, I’ve been going through some things lately…” I begin, but am quickly cut off by JJ’s sporadic personality. “Yeah you have! Continue…” she says to me with her arms out, as if she were allowing me to lead a group through a door she was holding open.
“….Well I’ve kind of been seeing things Jaylen…. Like… the dead visit me periodically throughout the day, and I sometimes jump through portals to other dimensions and universes.” Jaylen stared right into my eyes and with the straightest of faces she says, “Yeah I’m from the cut, I’m cutthroat, yeah. All in the crowd, Frank Lucas fur coat…. Ayyee!” Jaylen was too stoned to understand where I was coming from. I tried to have a totally serious moment and she wasn’t having it today. “Must be a conversation for a later time…” I say under my breath, and seconds later I notice the cloud of smoke leaving Jaylen’s mouth was frozen solid, and so was her facial expression. She looked like a kid blowing a large pink bubble from the dozens of pieces of bubble gum she had chewed. I knew what was happening.. it’d only be a matter of seconds before…. “This is not the time for fun and games Camila…” His voice boomed against my ear drums from the back of the cabin.
“Agghh, could you not shout?” I ask while recovering from the vibrating sound waves. My head was ringing like a large bell atop a bell tower. “I am not shouting. You’re hypersensitive.”
“Hypersensitive?” I was in disbelief. “Hypersensitive, to what?”
“EVERYTHING.” His voice shook the air craft. “I see you are spending your earned fortunes in the mortal realm wisely, but how are you using the knowledge earned from making the sacrifice?” I turn my attention from one side of the cabin to the other. “How did he do that?” I mumbled the question to myself.
Sinister had teleported from one end of the room to the other. “How do you do all of this stuff?” I ask him.
“Much like Morpheus told Neo in the Matrix…. You must learn to live a life without limits. Come with me. Nemesis has a few demands.” Sinister’s voice booms once again.
“Demands….” Before I can finish my sentence, Sinister has his hand around my wrist and the floor of the cabin had turned into nothing. I had floated through a black space in the blink of an eye and when I opened my eyes I saw an oddly structured building across the street from the parking garage that I was in. “How did we get here?! Where’s Jaylen?” I ask, concerned. I was uneasy about this whole, jumping dimensions thing.
“Calm yourself and be patient, it will all make sense shortly. You are adjusting to the level of power you truly possess. There is a reason Nemesis came to you and only you. You were hand picked and you are making great progress, but we must maintain this progress. Nemesis will accept nothing less than a victory. Nothing less than established dominance. I like that you stepped up and did what was necessary in our victory over The Society. But now… we face a much greater adversary.” The sound of nearby foot steps stopped our conversation and forced us to step to the ledge and look out into the world beneath us. In braud daylight, a small family, all of them in shackles are marched out into the center of the street.
“What is this?” I ask, unsure of what I am witnessing. “Watch.” Sinister’s voice was cold. “It’s education. This is a firing squadron. This is what they stand for right here, look at them.” He says while pointing out and guiding my eyes in the direction he wanted them go. This was a Nazi firing squad. They had a Jewish lined up and ready to be executed.
“RAISE ARMS!” The Chief shouts with split flying from the corners of his lips as he shouts. Those large aviator lenses shielding the coldness in his eyes. The firing squad raise their automatic weapons and aim at the family. The family trembles in fear and after a few more shouts from the Chief, a loud bang echoes and the family members begin falling one by one, with bullets piercing their skin and exploding the fabric in their clothing. This was done in cold blood.
“Don’t look away Camila, keep watching.” I did I was told and never turned away. “They feel they are victorious, but really they are the cowards. The true victors, the true heroes, the true champions, are those who stop the hit squad." BANG! BANG! BANG! Dust pockets fly into the air as bullets whistle through the air and penetrate the skulls of the Nazi firing squad.
“Who are they?!” I ask.
“They… are the greater good.” He responds without ever looking away from the violence going on below. “They are the ones who devour the cowardly. The dead and disposed are those who justify doing the wrong things.”
“Like, Kreature?” My interruption forces him to turn away from the gunfight going on below us. “Yes. Like Kreature.”
“If we lose will we suffer the same fate as Kreature?” I ask in a low tone, feeling uneasy showing the smallest bit of vulnerability.
“We shall never suffer the fate of Kreature. We are cemented closely by Nemesis’ side for a reason. We serve a purpose, and helping others realize theirs is what we do.”
“So it’s like, opening our enemies eyes to the fact that they never stood a chance.” I could understand it all now. It all made perfect sense. I had evolved…. We had evolved… and it would continue. Union Battleground was just as good as ours at this point. Axel Graves was losing his grip, their biggest draw is at the mercy of Salvation, and the entire tag division is being crippled one by one by Sinister and myself. The Firing Squad… ha. We’ll put their name to the test, we’ll put their wills to the test. In the battleground it’s gonna be heart check, after heart check. Who has it? Who lacks it? It’ll all be exposed. Holding the Battallion Championships is like two individual Battleground Champions, stomping craters into the asses of any and all who dare to prove themselves unworthy of their contracts. The Firing Squad… we’ll test their abilities in a way they’ve never been tested. We will tear at your flesh like the vultures that we are. This is not your usual terrain, Firing Squad.
INT. NOAH REIGNER’S APARTMENT - SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA - CONTINUOUS
"You're going back on the road?" Brooklyn Kanojvic asked. Her eyes watching Noah Reigner pack his bag in his San Diego apartment. Brooklyn, ex-Virginia native, now lives in San Diego, in the same apartment building with her (assumed) boyfriend. She landed a job at a tattoo parlor after moving here, and now was watching as her boyfriend packed to leave again.
"Yeah," he replied. "Bruin and I are off to D.C. for a tag team match." - "Driving?" - "No. Svarro helped us with flight tickets." She looked at him, inquisitively but there was nothing else said on that subject. "How long will you be gone?" She asked, only to receive a shoulder shrug. "Couple'a days, probably." Brooklyn looked dejected. Out of the corner of his eye, Noah saw her hang her head. Turning, he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
"Don't worry. Chloe's coming and you two can do touristy stuff. And it's only a couple of days, then I'll be back." Lifting her head, Brooklyn’s eyes found Noah’s. “That’s nice of her, and all. And no offense to her, but I would much rather spend my time with you. What am I supposed to do without you, No?”. Noah couldn’t help but to smirk. He’s never had anyone feel this way about him. “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call you, facetime, whatever you want.”
She let a deep sigh escape her ruby painted lips. “Well, good luck in your match. … I don’t think you’ll need it. You and Rumble are beasts together.” Her eyes locked on Noah’s, and he saw that look in her eyes. That look that tells you she wasn’t just talking, she believed this. And Noah believed it as well. “Thanks, babe.” He pushed himself forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Feeling his lips on her skin, she closed her eyes and brought her arms up, wrapping them around Noah.
She didn’t want to let go..
---------------------------
EXT. RONALD REAGAN WASHINGTON NATIONAL AIRPORT - WASHINGTONG, D.C. - CONTINUOUS
“First shot fired, and our first victims fell -- just like we said we would. Trixie and Tornado were lined up against the wall and we had the guns readied. What we said those weeks ago was the gospel, and everything else we say should be taken as such. So listen up..”
Noah Reigner took a drag from the cigarette he put between his lips. After exhaling, releasing a cloud of smoke, Noah’s eyes locked on the camera - continuing..
“What happened against those two was just the beginning. Ya’see, me and Rumble - we’re here to dominate this tag tournament. We’re here to become the Battalion champions, and nothing but is acceptable. So we did exactly what we said we would do to Trixie and Tornado. We put them down, left them in our dust and now they know that the Firing Squad is for real. We’re not a flash in the pan team, we’re not a “win one match, and vanish” type either. We’ve set our eyes on the titles, and no team is going to stop us from getting them. And that includes the team known as The Salvation”...”
Smirk.
“Everyone is quick to count out Rumble and I, and for what reason? Because this isn’t our territory? Wasn’t that something Trixie said in the days leading up to our match? We’re just a couple of goons that come from the Ultraviolent side of this business, and that we were in over our heads when it came to this side of the industry. Look how well that turned out for her team. Now we’re stepping up to the Salvation and, there are the doubters again. Noah and Rumble can’t do it.” Noah shook his head. “Together, Rumble and I are unstoppable. We were dominant in our last victory and we will be the same this time. Nothing’s changing. The Salvation got by the Society in order to make it this far, and I applaud them for that. The Society were nothing but talk over twitter, so I’m told, and apparently couldn’t cut it in the ring…”
“But make no mistake about it. We’re not the Society. We’re the future of not only the Battleground tag team division, but of the entire Battleground company. We have all of the qualities that are necessary to be champions. Rumble has the power, size and experience. I have the technique and all of the drive, and determination in the world. Together we possess everything that our opponents don’t. They may have left their mark on this company, but it’s time to sit the fuck down and watch while Rumble and I show you exactly what we can do.”
Another drag. Noah’s eyes narrowed on the camera. The massive frame of Rumble Reyes stepped into the scene after he exited the airport.
“I can tell you right now that neither of us are intimidated by either of you. You can play your mind games, you can talk in riddles and be as vague as you want - but none of that matters when you step into the ring with us. None of that will matter when we hit you so hard that your eyes roll to the back of your head and you lose consciousness. No mind games, no scare tactics, no riddles - just us hitting you. Just Rumble throwing the two of you around like garbage bags. Just me hitting you with a flurry of strikes - fists, kicks, chops. Eliminating with elbows, and knocking out with knees. That’s what it boils down to, Salvation. Rumble Reyes and Noah Reigner taking Sinister and exposing him for the fraud that he really is in this ring. Rumble Reyes and Noah Reigner stepping on, and crushing the Black Rose...
.. Rumble Reyes and Noah Reigner shooting down the wishes of yet another team, and claiming more victims in the tournament. “
Dropping the cigarette and stamping it out with a smirk, Noah’s eyes never left the camera.
“There is no salvation when you’re staring at the twin barrels of the Firing Squad.”
| As the sound of a door opens, we see light enter the dark room we are in, followed by the sounds of footsteps walking. As the footsteps persist, the silence in the room is broken by a loud, echoing and thunderous voice. |
Sinister: Lord Nemesis wishes for you to not only further your training but pass another test, taking one more step towards pure enlightenment.
| We hear a familiar voice reply. |
Mila Martinez: I will do whatever is necessary. Both of you already know that.
Sinister: Understood but like any mortal you still have your inhibitions which we wish to purge you of. With what awaits us at L!GHTS OUT and also lurks on the horizon with Salvation as a whole at Coup De Grace, it is essential that there is nothing holding you back both physically and emotionally when Final Salvation comes and the cleansing of the Battleground fully commences…
| Camila stops dead in her tracks and after a few feet, Sinister notices, stops and turns back towards her. |
Mila Martinez: We’ve crucified a non-believer, burned a lost believer at the stake, ran The Society straight outta dodge, been at war with that asshole Devereaux for a few months now and we have made it to the semi finals of this tournament, what else could Nemesis possibly have in mind to test my willingness to further our movement by any means necessary?
Sinister: If you’d continue following me Mila, you are about to find out.
| Camila huffs a little bit out of frustration but continues following Sinister until he stops her, with the light from the door barely reaching where they are. We hear a sudden movement, followed by a “CLICK!” and suddenly the room is dimly lit up. It looks like the same large room where Salvation kept Kuk Killswitch before giving him back to Dick Devereaux, except this time, there is a small woman wearing black leggings, a white long sleeved shirt with a black vest over top of the shirt who is tied and bound on her knees with a black bag covering her face. |
Mila Martinez: What am I supposed to do with her?
| Sinister reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls something from them which he clenches in his fist. The camera zooms in as he opens up his hand to show a singular bullet resting in his palm. |
Sinister: Take this…
| Confused, Mila does so and starts examining the bullet up close |
Mila Martinez: I bet ya Reyes and Reigner must have a ton of these…considering they call themselves the Firing Squad and all…
| Sinister sneers at Mila’s remark as he heads over to a table in the corner of the room. |
Sinister: Those two foolish humans have never even fired off a pistol…I can’t help but laugh at their name…’The Firing Squad’…I’m sure they don’t have a single BULLET in their little CLUB!
| Mila chuckles to herself at Sinister’s comment as he reaches down at the table, grabs something and then makes his way to where Mila is standing. Mila looks down and sees that Sinister is holding a black Glock 17 to which he passes off to Mila. |
Sinister: Now…load the bullet into it.
| Mila doesn’t hesitate, quickly loading the chamber with the single bullet, then locks in the slide from the back. Sinister smiles and then quickly takes the bag off of the woman’s face revealing her head garment, showing us that she’s a postulant nun who was gagged by a black cloth the whole time. Mila looks to Sinister shocked. |
Mila Martinez: You want me to off a fuckin’ nun?!?!
| Sinister glares at Mila for questioning her orders. |
Sinister: Is there an issue with what our Lord and Master wishes you to do?
Mila Martinez: No…it’s just…
Sinister: Just what?
Mila Martinez: Well…it’s just that it’s a nun, ya know?
Sinister: No, I don’t know. Does wearing the garb of a nun entitle you to not facing repercussions for your actions?
Mila Martinez: Actions? What actions?
| The nun tries to speak through her gag, fights against the ropes tying her hands and then begins to cry slightly after realizing there is nowhere to go. |
Sinister: What if I were to tell you that this woman only joined the Catholic Church to take advantage of the children in the world?
| Mila looks towards the nun who clearly hangs her head in shame. |
Sinister: What if I were to tell you that she works at St. Ann’s Center for Children, Youth and Families only to seek out vulnerable children that can be manipulated and fed into a child trafficking ring, led by the Chaplain of a local Catholic Church?
| Mila’s face turns to complete anger as she raises the glock, aiming it towards the head of the nun who is now completely sobbing, still hanging her head though. |
Sinister: You know it’s the right thing to do Camila. Cleanse this forsaken world of one more lost soul and non-believer…if it was your own child Camila, what would YOU do?
| Upon hearing Sinister use the hypothetical of it being Mila’s own child, she doesn’t hesitate and pulls the trigger. |
BANG!
| The nun’s brains exit the back of her skull, along with a massive amount of blood. Some of the brain matter manages to make it to the far wall behind her now limp, dead body, while most of it is on the floor behind her. The blood begins to pool up by the nun’s body as Mila lowers the gun, takes a deep breath and hands it back nonchalantly to Sinister. |
Mila Martinez: Good riddance. But I gotta ask; was all of that true?
Sinister: Does it really matter? You did what needed to be done and what is now cannot be undone. You fulfilled the wish of Nemesis, all is right and that should be your only concern.
Mila Martinez: I understand.
Sinister: Good. You see, you have proven that you will go above and beyond to obey the wants and needs of not only Nemesis, but of the cause as well, which is what you are going to have to do come Friday because Nemesis wants a victory and Salvation needs to add the Tag Titles to the foundation of our movement.
Mila Martinez: Reigner and Reyes may have beat Beautiful Storm but I don’t see them being that big of a road block compared to a team like The Outliers when it comes to winning this whole thing.
Sinister: Nonetheless, they still remain a roadblock. They have dissention among their ranks even if they fail to recognize it by what’s transpired with Reyes’ group Los Renegados, our goal is to exploit that weakness to the fullest.
Mila Martinez: Divide and conquer?
Sinister: Precisely. Reigner’s confidence is wavering, along with his trust of his own partner, even if they beat Beautiful Storm, who themselves have lost all the momentum they had when they first formed.
Mila Martinez: Guess you could say the “stars are aligning” huh?
| Sinister visibly cringes at Mila’s metaphor. |
Sinister: If you believe in the nonsense that is astrology, then yes, I suppose you can. Now come, Nemesis requested that we join him once we were finished here to discuss strategy further as he has something special to show us.
Mila Martinez: Ohhhhh…a surprise!?!
| As Sinister walks back towards the diection in which they came, the camera remains focused on the deceased nun and the blood pooling out of her skull as we can hear Mila in the distance now. |
Mila Martinez: What do you think it is?...DAMN IT! That goddamn nun got her blood all over my Jordan’s…fuckin’ bitch!
| The camera now zooms in on half a footprint left by Mila’s shoes on the ground where the blood seeped down to as we fade to black. |
Post by "Rumble" Reyes on Aug 15, 2017 22:54:04 GMT -5
HANEDA AIRPORT ● TOKYO, JAPAN AUGUST 15TH, 2017
Nothing.
It's all that you can see at first, all you can hear. Feel. Just the never-ending darkness starring back at you, until the contrast blinds you. The rays from the sun hit you directly in the eyes, forcing you to turn away for a few seconds. As you try to force your vision back, two figures begin to appear. One, much larger than the other, almost towering over him either. However, the shorter one walked with more of a strut, as if he was in control.
"So by the way, if I didn't happen to mention before...you're the only one with a ticket back to the States."
"Excuse me?"
"Listen Rumble, I've got shit to take care of here...don't you have your own life?"
Rumble Reyes, wearing his usual singlet, stood next to the trench coat that is Mikey Svarro. Despite having his own career, Rumble had mostly been with Mikey the entire time, and even when Rumble went back to San Diego, Svarro still had ties there to visit. It certainly wasn't like Mikey to coax his bodyguard away.
"I...don't have a good feeling about this, Mikey. You usually insist I say by your side at every moment..."
"And now I'm telling you, that you can have a life for a little bit, alright?"
Nervously, Mikey slid his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, quickly placing one into his mouth and taking a puff. Yes, something was definitely amiss.
"You know what, what about Union? That place may not have booked my on their card - despite the fact that I'm UNDEFEATED - but don't you and Noah have a match coming up here in a few days. You should be in D.C."
For a moment, Rumble felt caught off guard. He was usually so meticulous about when he had upcoming matches, when he should be where. He had to be, in order to keep on track with his own career, as well as being Svarro's bodyguard in several other promotions. However, before he showed any emotion, he reeled it back in. His usual pair of black sunglasses allowed him to hide any sign of emotion altogether. He stood there, black duffel bag in hand, thinking over what the correct decision was.
"Fine. I'll go to D.C. alone - but if anything happens to you while I'm not around - that's on you."
"Nothing ever does."
Mikey winked at Rumble and smirked, hitting him on the shoulder before the pair split ways.
"Salvation...
I'd be a fool to tell you that I don't know who you are. I do. But if you think you're the type of people...that scare people like me, then you're sorely mistaken. I realize that's why you exist, to put fear into the hearts of the Union, that's your end goal. Though surely, you've come to understand that not everyone is effected by freaks in facepaint now, haven't you? Those were the words of Mikey Svarro, and while they're often crude and shameless, do these seem less true to you?
The Answer? They don't.
The truth? Salvation started strong because they were misunderstood, misjudged, and somewhat underappreciated. Now Union has had a whole array of different sorts of people walk through those doors, including people claiming the same message as yourself, such as The Society. Mikey met their leader head on, and put her down. Ended the entire movement. How many other people have metaphorically wiped the paint right from your faces, how many other people have stepped forth and called your congregation as your true name? How many people aren't afraid of Salvation?
Dick Devereaux, The Union Battleground Champion himself, publicly laughing in the face of Salvation and Nemesis. I suppose you didn't realize this, but Noah and I, we used to run with ol' Devereaux. Los Renegados they called us. You see, at the time we were all cut from the same cloth, looking to make the same sort of impact on a company and hell, it worked. I'll admit, The Firing Squad are very different from Dick, we've certainly had our issues, but we all have that same burning desire within our blood. Dick wants to keep his championship, and The Firing Squad, want our own. You aren't going to stand in our way, the same way Nemesis isn't going to stand in Devereaux's way. We came for the Battalion Championships, and we aren't leaving without them.
Unlike The Butcher, we have our own sense of style, our own sense of gunning you down. We operate as our own unite, that fight well separately, but together? We're murder. We don't take orders from anyone any longer, we only listen to ourselves. We attack, attack, and attack, until there's not a single one of you standing in our way. I remember when we first started this tournament, how many people doubted us. My favorite one, were the people saying that we wouldn't make it, because Beautiful Storm was owed some rematch against Salvation. Some rematch that turned out to be. Though, a close second has got to be the feeble minds that hold onto our past for us? The ones who try so hard to look at what happened to Los Renegados, try to see some flaw in the plan where that is none. Shit happens, business is business. Noah and I have always dominated as a team, despite the Los Renegados BS. If anything, it made us stronger, and we proved that in our first match here in the Union.
I hope that when this is all said and done, this moment, right here, isn't one you look back and regret. Just look at what happened to your other member. Kreature, was it? Is that the path you're willing to follow, is that how you two want to end up? You, Mila? Or you, Sinister? Just when did you truly decide to go off the deep end, and enter into a war you simply can't win? I've wondered about that.
You followed a man you barely knew, into a battle you barely believed in, against opponents you barely understood. It's obvious that Salvation underestimates us, and I find that laughable, because you don't know us. Trixie was the only person who did, and look what happened to her. What sort of appreciation will you show to your master, when you're lying on the floor, unable to speak because of the pain? There was once a time I told myself I wasn't going to do things like this anymore. I wasn't going to wish harm on another human being, simply because of the things they say to me. But Salvation is the very meaning of the word arrogance, and I just can't bring myself to be the better person. I can't bring myself to hold back, so if it's a GATTLING GUN you want, it's a gattling gun you're gonna get!
You, you and your feeble minds, making snide little comments here and there. Let me remind you exactly how run of the mill you really are. Check the land of twitter, you'll find a million facepainted freaks running up and down the twitter halls, praising their master and everything he does for them. Check outside twitter, the ones who try to remain faithful to their facepaint, and you'll find a billion more. Salvation? It's nothing special - especially if you're going to try dogging us for what we are. Who exactly are YOU, Salvation? Join the rest of the circus freaks out there and you'll have a small chance of actually beating us.
The Firing Squad, Noah and I, we've never once hid who we were. We came to you as the very same people you see today? Most of Salvation hides behind masks, behind facepaint, they refuse to show who they truly are because that's who they're truly afraid of. Themselves. Afraid to admit that beyond it all, they're nothing. All the makeup, the theatrics, that tricks and treats. You two? You were never meant to be in this tournament. It was made for The Firing Squad.
At the final Lights Out of the season, we'll make sure to shoot down every...single...one...of you. You line 'em up, we shoot 'em down!"
Last Edit: Aug 15, 2017 22:57:29 GMT -5 by "Rumble" Reyes
