Learning Curves (Marcus RP)

The search for power begins when we’re quite young. As children, were taught that the power of good triumphs over the power of evil. But as we get older, we realize that nothing is ever that simple. Traces of evil always remain.

There is a long standing tradition within society, you raise your children the best you know how too, once they are of age, usually 5 sometimes 6 years of age, they go to school. At that time they spend the next 13 years of their life, for some more privileged children 14 and some less privileged or just those of superior intelligence, spend less. At that time the parents return to what ever life they called their own, and hoped that their choices of political stances and electoral aspirations will insure that their children are taken care of, given the best education possible, so that one day they may do something with their lives. Although as all of us knows, that doesn’t always happen, and if parents ever found out exactly what happens in public schools, most of the time they would lose themselves. The sanctity of trust between government officials and the people has never been a strong bond, but there was always the one perception, that the education system trust, would never be broken.

The footsteps echo through out the empty building, hardly the sounds of the city below can be heard inside, mostly because the surrounding area is just a decayed as the building itself. Dust and dirty that has collected over the years has created a story of those who have recently been in the building, and some of those not so recent, but have been preserved in the state that they were left. Bits of paper, books, and of course, glass obscure the echoes as he steps on them, changing the tones as he continues down the hallway. The open windows design that was created allows for plenty of light from the sun to shine in, but with no electricity, heavy shadows cast around each corner and in opposing sides of the building as late afternoon sets in.

He walks into a room, that opens up wide and is mostly empty. At the far end of it there sits two traditional desks with two small school desks sitting back to back between them. A large wooden closet door propped up against the wall sits behind it with a chair placed against it. The windows cover one entire side of the wall, in foot and a half square sections of 9 each. The floors on the far end looks as if an explosion of trash and paper went off just before he walked into the room. Part of the walls have layers of paint that has begun to peel, and the areas that have stood the test of time and weather, are covered with graffiti from the cities local street artists. He walks towards the far end of the room, and stops to admire a white wire framed grenade spray painted on the side of one of the desks. He cocks his head to the side and admires it for a moment as he slowly turns his head over and looks at the pains going almost all the way up to the 12 foot ceilings covered in the same 4 letters and 1 number. He turns his head back to the top of the desk and looks down at the contents on top of the desk he is standing next too. He looks at the random objects that were used for drug use, needles, pipes, cans, and plenty of other objects that aren’t illegal but looks like were used for one hell of a party. He pushes all of the objects off of the top of the desk and sits on the edge looking around the room.

It has been 13 years since our hero has been in this room. The attention to artistic freedom is an improvement, it shows that they are finally supporting personal expression. Marcus remembers being in this school as a freshmen as if it was just a few months ago, mostly because it was the last time he was in school. Who wouldn’t remember the time when they were taken away from their mother for the first time? Placed with a family of complete strangers, and forced to go to a school on the other side of the state, just because the state felt that his mother was a danger to him. I mean, what did the government know after all? They couldn’t even keep a school alive long enough to give a proper education. Take this particular location for example. Uptown Philadelphia is where this school calls home, right in the middle of the city. From the windows you can see the beautiful skyline, or at one time it would have been, so you may have to use a little imitation now, but the same could be said for most locations these days. Once a thriving location, but because the governing group of people decided that they wanted to change the rules, the entire area went to hell. This once location of hope and wonder, education full of dreams, now halls of death. Even if Marcus stayed with the school until graduation, saying that he decided to graduate from a traditional high school education system as it was, it is unknown if he would have even been able to graduate from this particular location. He once again may have been shipped to another location, because with the budget cuts, the area had to be rezoned and kids were transferred, and shortly there after, during summer break, out of no where, this once beacon of hope for young minds, was taken from them, and pushed to other locations. Although, not everything should be taken away from this as a negative, this is after all, a lesson on how the world really works.

K – P – G – 5 – A

The slow increase laugher of teenagers begin to ring out through the halls, and fill the room that Collins is sitting in.

HAHAHAhahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAaaaaaaa hahahahahahahhamuahahahafunnyHahahahahaLfuckingohmyLoffing Cheesy

haaa haaa HAHAHAHAHAHAhahaLOL LOL LOLhahahahahahaHahahahahahahaahahaHaHaHaHaHahahahaTheeheeheeLOL
The classroom slowly goes from having a post-apocalyptic feel to it, to what Collins must have remembered it looking like. Mildly clean, no more paint on the walls, no dirt or trash on the floors, books on shelves, desks in a row, chalkboard placed on the front of the classroom, and clean windows to look out of. He stands up and walks to the back of the classroom and kids fill in the room, and take seats as the teacher begins to get their attention for the beginning.

Math Class, Marcus always hated math, it didn’t seem practical to him growing up. Not to many people use math in their everyday life, outside of basic stuff, after all the way things are going with tax codes, you need to hire someone to do taxes, machines calculate everything else, even back then it was moving that ways, and he recognized that.

He watches for a few moments until the teacher asks ”If a state legislator proposes a tax increase of 2% and it takes a state wide majority vote of 80% to pass in a state of 3.567 million people. How many people will have to vote to pass the increase? With the voter registration being 58% Democratic, 32% Republican, and 10% Independent, what would be the percentage of success rate for a Governor of each party? Finally, if the average person makes $67,000 a year, at the current tax rate of 4.2% how much a year will the new tax code generate per person, per year, for the state?” Collins pushes off of the wall he was leaning on and begins to walk forward. The spot he was leaning against is gray, and dust kicks up as he moves, but slowly it becomes bright and colorful as it becomes part of the reality of the moment. He walks down the isle of students, walking slowly, but keeping his eyes fixed on the teacher. He reaches his arms out, palms facing down, just over each student’s head, just to brush air as he passes by, enough for him to feel them, and them him as he moves past

The empty dirty, trash filled room feels so empty now. Nothing left, windows darkened out by paint, no sign of any real life. Collins walks in the middle of the room, his arms spread out, palms down, almost in a crucifixion type of pose, if of course, you could walk in that situation. Dust and trash moves around him as he gazes off into the distance, fixed on the far wall, as if stalking to attack.

There is one very important flaw with these questions you pose with these children. You see, it doesn’t really matter how many people do or do not vote, if the upper group who run the government want more taxes, then there will be more taxes put on each one of us. No matter how much we do or do not want this or that to happen, it will. If they want our money, they will take it, and they don’t even have to ask us for it. The best part about all of this is that it is all completely legal, and if we try to fight it, we will be tied up in court for years until we are broke and living on the streets. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, something that has been said for thousands of years, and the best part about it, in those thousands of years, no one has learned a **** thing. Why I learned to keep my mouth shut after all these years. You see, no matter if you like the idea of more taxes, what they say they will spend it on, or not, once they have it, they will do what they want with you. But it’s not just the government; it’s like that in all aspects of our lives. Even you Ms. Teacher, you know all to well exactly what I am talking about. I am sure that you have a boss that you attempted to go to and request something for, wanted to do something, and was given some sort of an excuse on why you couldn’t do it. Maybe they decided against it or they, themselves were given the excuse, but all the same, it was given. Maybe they said they had a plan for one thing, and then all of a sudden, at the last minute, changed the dynamics of exactly what was going to happen, because once they have you, there is nothing you can do about it, you are nothing more than their slave.

He walks over and stands on top of the desk, looking down at the now frightened teacher. He glares at her and snarls his lip, but his anger and frustrations aren’t towards her per say, but more towards the situations at hand.

It’s like thinking that you will have more of a ladder style of a match. One that you can sit there and show of your ability, you know, let the best one win, but when you think you had everything set and ready for a big night, the upper class comes in and changes things, not because they had too, but because they wanted to. There is no reason for it, just because they felt like it. Now it has nothing to do with how good someone is, it matters more about how lucky someone gets. I guess these days it’s more on luck than it is anything else. The problem with the way things are going with the world, nothing is ever earned, and everyone is entitled to everything. All you have to do is be really lucky, and things will get handed to you, gone are the days of working for ****, just go get lucky.

E – 4 – O – V – M

Dirty, dark, dead…. all verbs used in Collins vocabulary to describe reality, and in his current location and state of action, these are exactly what he is seeing. He drops down off of the table, the papers crumble beneath him, and he walks to the door, exiting, leaving the room behind him. Math never was his favorite subject anyways.

He walks down the hallway and he extends his arm and hands outward, rubbing his fingertips alongside of walls. Feeling the texture of the paint, the dirt that has built up over the years, and the unknown substance that has found its way to the sun faded painted bricks that once found itself guiding students to their next location. Collins walks into what once was the inside gymnasium. The place where they would have basketball games, pep rallies, and any other school gathering. Just like the rest of the place, this was taken over by graffiti and trash, but one small section of graffiti catches his attention, and he walks towards it. He pauses, looking at it, studies it, and after a few moments of silence, he breaks out in laughter. He steps aside from the view of the camera to show what he was looking at. ”Save the blonde cheerleader, she keeps getting pregnant.” Below the words is a blonde stick figure in a cheerleaders outfit, with a big belly and a stick figure baby dropping from between her legs.

For Marcus, this is extremely funny, being that one of his opponents is Trine Larsen. Blonde, innocent, and more and likely a cheerleader in high school, the similarities are very plain to see. Of course, our hero is not saying that Trine Larsen is easy, because that would just be disrespectful, but sense she has been in the WWG, she has been seen and speculated with three wrestlers, one who is currently in the hospital, a possible drug user, and the other just now returning with another blonde bombshell. Then of course there are the non-industry relationships she has had, and the throw away rumor mill about her and Jason King. Marcus has no interest in her personal life, but the fact that the hallways whisper with her personal life, he finds this street art amusing by connecting it to the rumors that have been circulating the company recently. Although as amusing as he finds all of this, he doesn’t take things lightly, but the mental image of Trine Larsen in a school girls outfit, living in a trailer park, knocked up with the rest of those who he went to school with, is amusing.

Collins shakes his head as memories of his past flood his head, thinking about all of those who at one time would have laughed as he passed by them in these very halls, that would have looked at him as a lesser person, not even someone who would have registered on anyone’s radar. He wasn’t part of the poor kids, the rich kids, he wasn’t very athletic at the time, he had no interest in sports or academics, he wasn’t even a suburban kid, at the very best, and he was nothing more than a lost boy, at the truest of definition of the term. A new kid, living with a family who isn’t his own, taken from everything and everyone that he knew and loved, and dropped in the middle of this… this education system, with promises of a better life. But what is a better life? What was wrong with what he had prior?

One of those who will do her part, one who may not be as upset as I am about the change, would be the princess herself. Give that woman a crown; EVERYONE seems to think that she deserves one. It’s like she shits gold, and pees oil, which is perfectly fine, people have their favorites, even the suits that work around the company. All eyes are always on her though, she has more talk about her going into every show, social media, top bookings, I mean let’s look at it, she lost the match on the very night she it was announced she was going to be in this match. Of course everyone will say, one loss doesn’t mean anything, but to most of the wrestlers in the locker room, it does. If I lost a match while going for a title, I don’t get a title shot right away. I had to fight my ass off to get back to that shot, EVEN if I had a rematch for that title. No one supported me when I came to this point. I never complained about fairness of match types, I just did what was thrown in my way. To put it in a light most may understand, I am a company man, just like Trine is a company woman, but I am met with opposition, instead of praise. Some things never change.

He takes a step away from the wall and walks towards the middle of the gymnasium, thinking about the future of what will happen this coming week. Even with the change of the end, there are still things for something that pulls Collins interest to this match. The top three people in the company, all standing against him, all people who he holds victories over, people who he sees himself better than. Although the stipulation of chance being entered into the match, taking away the true test of who is better, stands the idea in the back of his mind, that even if his luck runs out this week, he knows it will be short lived to take back the title that he never actually lost. Something that seems to be a theme with him, he has lost titles in the past, but rarely has he ever actually been pinned or submitted, rarely in any sense, title or not, he often loses based off of a stipulation or another person being involved. For Collins, this fact alone, puts him above anyone else in the WWG, and his opponents, being that he has personally pinned two of the three, and the third one, is supposed to be on his side.

I will be looking forward to you showing up Trine, I always do, I did just the other week. You remember then right? You came out, Rah Rah Rah! Fight the good fight, justice and vengeance will take over everything! No matter what, good will always triumph over evil! Run to the ring! Run Run Run! Take your place amongst the gods of the ring, and find yourself…. Once again disappointed in the ideology you once believe in. We have had an interesting relationship, the two of us, chasing each other, passing by each other, facing each other, and yet it seems like each time, you hold to your own personal morals even stronger. Something I am slightly surprised in, most people will just give up, because after so much disappointment that is surrounded by one person, most would have just walked away from the ground they have dug into. Yet here you are, still the same old Trine, of course I hear your battle cries about being new, and reborn! Have a new edgier outlook on things, but at the end of the day, I KNOW that nothing has changed. You may have went to a few motivational seminars; ”You ARE special, you CAN achieve your DREAMS, the UNIVERSE is yours! You are the best version of YOU that you can ever be!” I looked into your eyes, your pretty blue eyes, and saw the fear; I saw the terror that you have deep down inside. The very same fear that I saw the first time we faced each other a year ago, the only difference is how you are attempting to project yourself NOW. That excites me, THAT makes me want this match more than anything, I want to recreate that look, the very one that I have grown accustomed to seeing all this time. How will that play into your title shot? You are all alone now, no Rayven, no Losers, no trainers or boyfriends, hardly any of your friends even show up anymore, maybe they don’t like someone who loses so much, almost a year has passed since your title run, how interesting that it has taken you this long to get back to it, and how poetic that it is I who you have to get past, because don’t kid yourself, even though this week is a game of chance, you still have to get past me, you still have to survive, I still have to allow you to grab a case.

Collins stops in the middle of the room; he slowly starts to move his head slightly back and forth, as if he is attempting to hear a small whisper or sound off in the distance. He eyes narrow in order to focus more on the sounds, seemingly only he can hear. He slowly tilts his head back and forth… a slight murmur of whispers and inaudible talks slowly make their way to the tympanic membrane, and yet, it is unknown where and who is making this noise. In an abandoned school, in the middle of an almost abandoned area of the city, who else could be there outside of Collins and the one camera operator? Slowly they grow louder and louder, and Collins slowly turns his head and looks towards the main doors to the room. Now barely hanging on, one lays on the floor, covered in paint, as the other still locked in place, tagged with graffiti, but Collins is fixated on the location, as if expecting someone or a group of someone’s to come through that door.

NO!

Q – X – Y – 7 – S

Suddenly a burst of wind burns through the hallways, picking up anything light enough to be thrown around in a small gust of wind. The sounds of papers, empty paint cans and other aluminum objects, bottles, and plastic items can be heard being thrown against the walls, and shifted down the hallway. Riding on the winds are those sounds, the whispers, murmurs, the ghosts of the past, those that Collins left in this very building, hoping that he would never have to relive ever again.

The very memories and feelings that our hero once felt, the past he ran from, the nightmares he’s had, are now just outside of this room. He knows they are, he can feel them, that cold finger running down your spine, the trepidation that you feel before you know when something bad is about to happen. Many people call this Déjà vu, foresight into what is about to happen and yet, even with all of this knowledge of what is to come, most of us are slaves to doing nothing at all. Marcus is no different, even with all of the things he has accomplished, the terror even he, himself, has brought to this world, he is still a human. Even if his own thoughts of being much more, he knows that deep down, he will die, he is limited by that mortality, but he will not accept anything else, and moves towards becoming much more than the average human, something he has expressed inside of the ring. Yet, no matter how hard he fights, no matter how far he goes, he will always be haunted by his past, just like each and every one of us.

A flood of trash and strong winds blow into the room, circling around Collins, as he looks around in slight confusion, but unusually calm during a situation like this, where most people would be lost in fear of the paranormal, the psychosis that could only explain what was going on. He just stands there, watches, intrigued by what was happening, as if he understood exactly what was happening. With every passing second, the winds intensify, and more objects blow into the room, as well as pulling the objects already inside the room, until the entire room is full in an almost vortex. Collins slowly closes his eyes and suddenly the windows at the top of the gym, almost 20 feet in the air, explodes inwards and surrounds him. Glass is flung around in a dangerous chainsaw manor, with one wrong more, one misplaced step, could call for a fatal ending.

LEAVE ME ALONE!
The familiar voice rings out, and echoes not only in the room, above the sound of the winds and trash being flung around, but in his head. It echoes, as if to awaken a part of him that he once forgot, suppressed in order to protect himself, or to just suppress by choice, to keep from being weak. Suddenly, as quickly as it started, everything stops, the winds end, the trash calms, but the glass continues to float all around the room, as if hung from the ceiling as some strange decor for the room. Collins slowly opens his eyes, with his head tilted slightly downwards, with the light from outside behind him, a slight shadow is casted over him, almost creating a slight darkness over his face.

I have once been accused of being lost, unsure of who I am, jumping back and forth, being fake, yet there is one person that seems to have found himself in this match, regardless of how much he too has lost in recent weeks, than I have ever been. The once great Abram Adams, someone who was seen as the golden child of the WWG, the chosen one, yet once the reality set in, he was nothing more than a confused child. I would even say a confused teenage girl, emotional, weak, go cry for me, being I haven’t felt the emotion in so long, it is interesting to see a grown man, cry so much. Someone that people actually feared, beaten down to nothing more than a scared child. I commented on Trine and her loss, but you, you have lost to far less than myself, and far more than her, it seems as if she is more of a man than even you are. You have jumped around in who you are, more than anyone I have ever seen. It shows weakness, so much weakness at that, because someone who goes from one extreme to another, and to my own surprise, another, you are nothing more than a gimmick. You once had me convinced that you were something worth working with, you impressed me at one point, inside the ring, you amused me. Then you lost the title, you saw after I left, the crack was too big to repair, and your little group fell apart around you, and you had to stand on your own. You then went on to try and tell me, that you actually know who I am; you pretended to say you knew me!? Maybe you actually believed that, maybe you THOUGHT you knew who I was, but there one major issue, I only allowed you to know, to see, to experience, only what I WANTED you to. I let you THINK you knew who I was, just like I did to Jason King, thinking I was broken and lost, but as always, once it was time, I simply showed my hand, and ended the game. A game I was hoping you once were playing, but at this point, it is just sad or you aren’t playing. To think, they called me crazy.

Collins begins to snarl and physically get tensed, as he moves his head back and forth to loosen his neck. His fist clinch, his forearms flex as his veins begin to pump, much of a reminder of someone in the gym, right after taking a pre-workout supplement.

You’ve grown so weak; it is almost an insult that you are in this match! It has been a year since you have even been in the title situation, and just because you come back, claiming you hold any so called right TO MY **** TITLE and now you all of a sudden get in the match? Since your return you have won… what 2 matches? WHAT SORT OF **** STANDARDS DOES FREDDY HAVE THESE DAYS!? I guess there is no real competition, I guess I have ended EVERYONE, which they have decided to throw your pathetic ass in this match, with hopes of me putting you out of your sad little self-torment. Are you a bad guy, a good guy, oh a **** nobody, that is who you are. Someone who has been hit in the head so many times, that they think that the world still revolves around them, when reality comes knocking, it hits them like a **** truck. You have disappointed me Abram; you have made me so angry, just being who you are now. This love sick, garbage, confused who you want to be in life, upset that a sub wrestler like Jason King bested you in trash talking, and you could barely do anything about it. Now you have gone softer than I would have ever imagined, now you care. Caring gets people killed, when was the last time you saw an old hero? Heroes die, they are killed and ended by people like me! People who care less about your stupid little personal quest in the WWG, you want a title shot, you may need an adrenaline shot when I’m done with you!

For Marcus, the fact that Abram Adams was considered for this match is an insult to his own abilities, and insult to everything he has done and gone through to the point he is now. The worst part about it, is that Abram Adams personally believes that he actually has a shot during all of this, still sees Marcus as that lackey he was forced to be, the muscle that kept the title on him on several occasions. Something that has been overlooked by Abram, but the most insulting thing about all of this, is the fact that he actually believes that he is on the same level as him. When you transcend to a God Killer, you sit above all. When you have ended the hope of the WWG, you are more than anything else. Abram is nothing more than a bug waiting to be squashed, if we were using current events, he is Drake, and Marcus is Eminem.

A – B – C – D – 1

Collins shakes his head as his gaze comes back from the beyond. He looks around him as trash still sits in the same places as before, he turns and looks around as there are no broken shards of glass anywhere. He brushes it all off, and walks forward, and out of the gymnasium. In the hallway, a broken set of windows, no doubly from kids throwing rocks, allows the cool air from the outside to whisk through the hallways. Shuffles of paper glide by him as he pauses to look down, as if interested in the content printed on them. Old homework and handouts, nothing of too much interest, but it is a part of history for him, as his past is tied to this location. He walks down the hall, and through a doorway, where yet again a door used to stand but from the looks of it, someone had used it as a sled, being it is wedged on the stairwell just behind where it once stood. He decides to go up, because up is all you can go, when you’re wanting what he has, and to once again feel what his opponents feel, it will give him perspective that he needs.

After two flights of stairs, he is stopped once again by another door, this time still in its rightful place, although has received an upgrade of paint, thanks to the graffiti now covering it. He turns the handle, which is all but broken, and pushes, yet the door remains closed, as it seems to have found itself stuck after all these years of neglect. Collins takes a step back and furiously kicks the door, until it opens, no obstacle will stand in his way, not now, not ever! On the other side of the door was the roof of the main building of the school. He walks out to the opening, less graffiti than the previous locations, possibly due to the condition of the door. He takes a deep breath, breathing in fresh air for the first time since entering the school.

He watches as a few pidgins take flight from the other side of the roof top. He looks around as he notices there isn’t much time left in the day, night is quickly coming with her cold grasp, and when that happens, things change. Much like everyday life changes, things you thought were planning to happen, does not. People you thought were your enemy, end up being an ally. Just like two sides of the same coin, one life, but good and bad in the same situations.

Wretched Nobody, I have been targeting you since I first came to the WWG. After we came in, walked around, saw the way things worked, the one name that kept popping up was you. Of course, being the new kid, I had to do what I could to force my way into your eye sight, not very easy either when the upper people do everything they can to keep you down. At one point or another I took down each member of your family, just to get you to come out to play. It was one hell of a motivational factor, after all, it seemed everyone was scared of you, and what better way to add myself to the history books, than to quickly take down the biggest guy in the yard, the one guy everyone else is afraid of. The thing is, you are just a man, behind that mask, there’s a face, nothing horrid or wretched as Grace would like us all to think. I recognized the lie quickly, funny how so many were scared of you from the beginning, and when I finally took you on for the Tag Team titles, I was excited, but you disappointed me, I expected more from you, but what can I say, maybe you were afraid of me? But why would you be? You’re supposed to be the bringer of pain and torment, why would someone such as that be afraid of me? Maybe because that person, that big mouth piece that walks around with him, are intelligent people. That could be part of the reason WHY we find ourselves on the same side of this battle, this SYNDICATE of sorts, as it seems Maxwell and Grace seem to call it. Frankly I can give a damn, call it three dogs ****, doesn’t change what I will do. I said I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone to watch my back, this is true, but this match could be fun if played right.

Marcus hasn’t had the best of luck with groups, friends, or any sort of personal relationships, and so far a dysfunctional group, now calling themselves the Syndicate, is a perfect example of just that. Three men who have wanted nothing more than to beat each other into the ground over the last 2 years, and yet they find themselves working on the same side. Our hero has wanted only one thing in life, to prove everyone wrong, and be the best. There are times that he has had to compromise things in order to get that, but in the end, he always looks for the best way to achieve those goals. Joining with these two is exactly that, but to go as far as to trust them, that is something that may never happen. Why having Wretched Nobody in the title match with him, brings very little discouragement to him, but it does present an interesting opportunity.

In case you haven’t seen the plan laid out in front of us, there are two of us, there are 4 cases, and two of them. Two may I add that both of us have had run ins with, and I would go so far as to say that either one of us would have no issue with putting an end to their careers as we would with any first year rookie. As of this point, I find myself in a unique situation, you see, I hold two titles, as you pointed out last week. What if we just destroyed everyone, and took 2 of those cases for ourselves? I mean, honestly, what will anyone do? Not like they will be able to take it from us, we simply just kidnap the title if it comes to that, and the best part, I don’t even care if I walk away the winner, because as long as we keep all the titles, everyone still has to come to us for a shot. Of course, if you decide to get greedy, I can always go back to my plan A, and stomp your big ass head into the mat, just like I plan on doing to EVERYONE ELSE! You can stand with me, or you can make that mistake and stand against me, because it’s going to happen, and it’s going to be nasty, be easy, or be hard, I am going to destroy everyone in that match. You stand against me, I may mess that face up so bad, I will take that **** mask off your ugly head, and finally show the world, what you really look like under that. Or we can just rob the WWG and take the title for ourselves, doesn’t matter to me, I will win no matter what.

Collins slowly stumbles backwards, dizzy, confused, as if he was hit with something heavy across the face. He begins to blink rapidly, and grow ever more visually confused. He takes a few steps forward and stumbles quickly back to the door. He slams against the wall, and stands there holding himself up.

PLEASE HELP!

Z – Y – X – W – V

Our hero wasn’t always the way we know him now. He once had a sense of justice, a quite young man, but for a short time, actually had aspiration to do nothing but good in this world, more than he currently does. One primary example, our hero was at this very school, out on the out door, roof top basketball court. Oh what a wonderful time it was for him, he was left alone, no one bothered him, he was known as the “weird” kid, so friends wasn’t much of a thing. So he watched, he rarely talked, an entire school year, for the most part alone, watching, hardly talking, living inside his own head. Something not very many people can say, something that could easily create a monster, or a genius, but somewhere along the way, both may have happened. As a young boy, he would often watch kids play on this outdoor court area, on the rare nice days. He would sit in a far corner, book in hand, alone, and just watch, pretending to read. He would even go so far as to randomly turn a page, just incase someone was watching him, because in the end, it is all about how things look.

On one special day, there was a young girl, a girl that young Marcus often observed. He wasn’t sure if he had feelings for her, if he hated her, as a matter of fact, they never talked, never met, just passed by each other in the hallway once, but other than that, no other interaction. All he knew was that for some reason, she grabbed his attention. He didn’t understand it, but most young teens are confused at that point, and attempting to sort out those emotions will everything else, is almost like static on the brain.

He took notice to things, people who associated with her, people who didn’t. He took mental notes, much like a Privet Eye would have, his attention to detail was spot on. Every face, every action, all noticed, but not like someone with Eidetic Memory, but more of someone who is attempting to specialize in something, interested in someone. One day as he pretended to read, he noticed a group of seniors who took notice towards her, but not in a way that any one of us would deem appropriate. The words NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE HELP! even occasionally haunt him to this day. It was a landmark day for him, it was the first day he was arrested, but also, the first time reality became real to him, there is no TRUE good or evil in this world.

They approach her and without warrant, one of the grab her by the arm, and attempt to pull her along with them. Sure a few other kids attempt to stop them, but these were rich kids, and occasional bullies, they pretty much did what they wanted to, because their parents help to keep the school district running. So as quick as someone would jump to her aide, they were thrown to the ground and threatened. This was the first time a feeling came over him, the only way to explain this feeling was like the first time you had sex, and had a huge orgasm through sex, the pleasure, the euphoria, take all of that, and go the polar opposite. This was almost a black out moment for him, and could easily be one, but our hero WANTED to remember, each, and ever, detail.

He drops the book and quickly walks up to the boys, not saying a word, but standing between them and the door. One boy attempts to shove him out of the way, but he pushes him back and bites his arm. Not ideal, but being this was his first physical altercation, it was what came first to him. He quickly followed through with wild swings and kicks. The first kid fell to the ground, as the second kid hit him from behind. The main kid still holding onto her, stands there, watching, in shock. This nobody, loser, weird kid, just came and attempted to stop him? He will be made an example, or at least that is what the expression on his face read. Young Marcus fought until he broke the second kids nose, which sent him running away. His mother always did say, “use your head”, so he did.

The main kid throws her to the ground, she lets out a yell of pain. At this point, he does blackout, because the next thing he remembers was being pulled off of him, while he is stomping on his face, later to be arrested. You see, Marcus was doing the honorable thing, he was saving her, rumors had gone around that he wanted to sleep with her, and wasn’t taking no for an answer, and the last word that was going around, today was the day, before the end of school, the roof top was going to be her first time, and he was going to add another notch to his preverbal headboard. Even with all of this, finally doing something selfless, doing what he felt was right, he was still punished, called an aggressive child, a monster. He hurt those boys, but never did he have second thoughts, or regrets, the only thing he learned, even when you’re trying to do the right thing, someone will always see you as the bad guy.

I – B – R – 2 – G

Collins stands in the middle of that very outdoor basketball court, but now the decay has set in. The wired dome is standing, but very little netting remains; pools of water have created small pools along both sides of the court, which is now mostly spray painted concrete. He looks over at the backboard that still stands, covered in graffiti, he looks down at his feet, and sees a story almost being told from taggers. He looks around at the physical walls that are covered, within a reasonable height. He looks over at the horizon, as the sun slowly sets, the sky painted in almost as many colors as that basketball court. He stands there for a moment, no expression on his face, no motions or words, he just is.

Things never seem to work out the way any of us actually plan them to. I expected a test of abilities, now everything is based on luck, sometimes that means you have to create your own. Sometimes it feels as if we plan out things in our head, see those outcomes, but we find out, in the end, that we are nothing more than the villain. This is a WWG World Heavyweight Championships match at Revolution, in a gimmicky match called Time to Shine. Normally this wouldn’t be for a title, the very idea of the name of said match, goes against having a title in it, but here we are, breaking those walls down. This gives that unique stance, to go against the grain, to push off the establishment, by making this match a title match, it’s not MY time to shine, it will be theirs. They are the ones who have to show up, to experience what it is like to be in a match, a match that I have no worries about. I have built a career here in the WWG off of matches like this, and this is just another one for me to put in the record books.

The question doesn’t state, how lucky will I be? But more of will I make my own luck. Will Wretched Nobody stick to a team plan, or will he go rogue as he tends to do so well. Will Abram finally grow a pair, and be a man, or will Trine continue to outshine him on that front. So many questions circulate around this match, but there is one question, the right question, that I have yet heard asked; Who will survive the Reaper? People tend to forget, THEY are attempting to take something from ME, something I’m not yet ready to let go. Of course, someone may find a lucky hand this week, walk out of Revolution with the title, but at the end of the day, that would be SO much worse for them. Never beating me, again, and yet they still walk away with MY title? Oh the road to my rematch will be painful, but on the other hand, if I find the case with my title in it, or just take all 4 of them, then that means I end everyone who sits at the top of the WWG, once again. Their best bet is to have Wretched take the title, less of course he tries to take it by force, then it really will be a bloody mess out there.

He slowly looks down from the sky, at the camera, his dead expression pierces through the camera, but the expression is all too familiar, the Reaper is here.

Then of course there is the matter of the other Time to Shine match, the so called #1 Contender match. Let’s face it, if I lose this week, there will be no #1 Contender, because I will simply put them out, just like I have put everyone else out. Kai Shepard, Jason King, Morgan Terry, all had recently felt the reapers touch, they know exactly what it is like to be in the ring with me, and I doubt, any of them would want to do so again so soon. Trust me, they would have to go through me before ever seeing a title shot. It is as simple as taking that opportunity from them. Of course there is Maxwell Lord, and how interesting that would make the next PPV if myself or Wretched found themselves with the title, and having to face one of our own yet again. I guess that is something that will happen when you associate yourself with the best. Regardless, Trine, Abram, hope that you are unlucky, hope that you are sick and can’t make it to the arena that week, for I have had enough of this game play, it is time to start collecting on what is owed to me. Time to up the game, because no matter if it is for the greater good, or the better evil, it is all one in the same, so it doesn’t matter the reasonings behind what I will do this week, just know, it wont be pleasant for anyone other than myself. See you all soon.