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Bloody Inferno; Eight-Man Tag, (02/10/13)
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Topic Started: Feb 9 2013, 09:11 PM (65 Views)
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Eric Donavan
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Feb 9 2013, 09:11 PM
Post #1
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- Posts:
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Bloody Inferno
Author’s Note: For the scene preceding this, refer to Dark Days: The Finale (Conclusion)
"If we are not our brother's keeper, at least let us not be his executioner.” – Marlon Brando
DATE/TIME UNKNOWN LOCATION UNKNOWN
To say the scene was grisly was putting it nicely. Blood…was everywhere. It was on the floor, on the body of the fallen…and most prominently on the hands of Eric Donavan, both figuratively and literally. There were others present but to the Irish Dragon there was nothing but the body held in his arms. Breathless words and harsh sobs were cutting through the cold atmosphere of the old warehouse but all Eric could hear was the remnants of his own solitary scream of black fury. The perpetrators were long since departed as was the catalyst for this final act of ruthlessness, this that was meant to close the circle. Johnny Corvo watched from the doorway, his hardscrabble mind still trying to process what had just happened. Aurelei and Ren were still clinging to one another, the former trying to be the strong one while the latter curled in and made no effort to hide her enraged sadness. All six of their eyes were staring at Eric…who since that agonized wail hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t seemed to breathe.
Then the scene freezes, in the same instant going black and white as shimmering images of Snake and Eric appear standing in the middle of everything. Like shaky holograms, Total Recall-style (the older, better version), the two forms speak clearly.
”It’ll turn some heads for sure. Can you imagine?”
”Not a damn thing would stand in our way.”
”Not for long. But take your time and think about it. There’s no need to rush.”
”You’re dead serious about this.”
”Bloody well right, I am.”
They flicker out of sight again and the scene once more starts moving. Aurelei starts to reach out to touch her husband, reluctantly letting go of Ren who stumbled back against the wall and slid down slowly. The usually-fearless woman gets within an inch of the blood-soaked Irish Dragon before she draws back as though she’d been burned. It was too much. Just putting her hand near her was like sticking her fingertips into a raging flame. She took a few steps back as tears started to leak from her icy blue eyes. Eric did not react. Ren was still a mess herself, having fallen to her knees with her hands to her head, shaking it back and forth. Aurelei moved…no, she retreated…from her husband and took the crimson-haired woman into her arms again, adding her own tears to the mix. Johnny still looked numb but he tensed, as did the rest, when Eric finally managed to speak, or rather, to whisper.
Eric Donavan “...there's nothing left now."
Ears perk up at Eric's whispered words. Three pairs of eyes turn in his direction, one with confusion, one with rage and the last with fear. Eric didn't give a damn for the fact that his clothing was soaked in the blood of his brother, the last of his family. He didn't care that the people who perpetrated this atrocity were probably miles away by now. He was beyond pain. Cut to the freeze frame again, the flickering images of Eric and Snake appearing again but looking as though the former is pacing while the latter is sitting.
”How many more times do you have to be told that things are under control before it sinks in?”
”At least once. You know I can’t handle you being secretive. You say you have it under control…”
Eric’s image stops pacing while Snake’s rises and moves to face his brother.
”And how many times have you driven yourself nuts about shit like this only to have it turn out like I said it would?”
”Not the damn point, brother.”
”It’s the WHOLE fuckin’ point. You have other business to handle. So let me handle this.”
Back to color, back to life in motion. Ears perk up at Eric's whispered words. Three pairs of eyes turn in his direction, one with confusion, another with rage and the last with fear. Eric didn't give a damn for the fact that his clothing was soaked in the blood of his brother, the last of his family. He didn't care that the people who perpetrated this atrocity were probably miles away by now. He was beyond pain.
Eric Donavan “Corvo.”
Johnny Corvo "Huh?"
Eric Donavan "Find that white witch. Find her and bring her to me. Alive."
Aurelei looks away from Ren for a moment, her fear-filled eyes wide. Ren looks over as well, but where Aura looks afraid merely at those words, the crimson-haired amazon’s acid-colored hues look vicious. She’s apparently in full agreement with what she perceives Eric’s intentions to be with one known as Candice.
Aurelei Donavan "Eric, no..."
Johnny Corvo "Your old lady's right, man. There ain't no vengeance for this."
The bloody dragon didn't seem to hear their pleas nor feel the heat in Ren’s gaze. His attention never left his lost brother. Setting Snake’s body gently back down on the cold concrete among his spilt blood, Eric moves a hand over his open eyes to close them. Johnny took a few tentative steps forward, putting a hand on Eric's shoulder.
Johnny Corvo "Eric..."
Eric Donavan "You're still here. Did you not understand what I said?"
Monochrome, eerie stillness and once again the images of the brothers. They look like they’re having a conversation on the phone, moving independently of one another.
”It’s going to be a big deal, brother. We’d like you to be there. I know it isn’t your thing, but…”
”It’s not. And I got some…things…to handle. I’ll send something, though.”
”You’re worrying me. But I understand. I’ll make sure he knows it’s from you.”
”Yeah…you do that.”
”How long before you’re back in town?”
”Depends on how things go down. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again in due time.”
”We always find a way even when shit gets heavy. Just don’t do anything stupid, brother.”
Eric’s image fades, leaving Snake’s standing there staring at his phone for a few moments before he speaks.
”In due time…you’ll see. And you’ll understand. This was the best I could do.”
Snake’s form flickers and fades out as we return to reality with Johnny now looming over the still kneeling Eric.
Johnny Corvo "Forget that shit, man. We gotta get him out of here."
Throwing off the biker's arm and rising to his feet in the same motion, Eric snatches hold of Corvo by the collar and shoves him into the nearby wall with a fury. A quiet, burning fury.
Eric Donavan "Bring the bitch to me. Alive. Screaming! BEGGING FOR HER WORTHLESS LIFE!"
He gets right up in Johnny's face, snarling like a low beast.
Eric Donavan "Bring her back or don't come back."
Letting go of the biker, the blood-soaked dragon fishes a phone out of his pocket, the one not stained with dead crimson, and punched in a number. He waited a few moments, then answered.
Eric Donavan "Cecil. It's me. I have a job for you."
He listens for a few moments as Johnny stalks out of the room, the sound of his bike starting up in the near distance and roaring off. Ren still looks to be a fine mess but regardless Aurelei gets up from her side as Eric hangs up. He puts the phone back on his pocket as she latches on to his wrist, turning him to face her. The Dragon meets the eyes of the Phoenix and for just a moment, he looks human again. Those eyes register deep pain, crushing loss...and then go dead again, like two black holes devoid of light or warmth.
Aurelei Donavan "Please, baby...just...just..."
But the words won't come. Eric takes his hand from her grip and brings it up to cup her cheek with his thumb brushing across her lips. To her, it was like Snake had transferred his soul into Eric...perhaps the scariest thing you could imagine. She almost shrank back but his grip wouldn't allow it.
Eric Donavan "...let it go? Let the little tramp walk after she threw in with Serge's family and got my brother killed? But I AM going to let it go, lover..."
He smiled, but it was more a showing of teeth. A predator's final jest at his cowering victim before he got his first taste of quivering, wriggling flesh.
Eric Donavan "...I just won't be responsible for the mess it makes when it lands."
Nodding in Ren's direction, Eric handed Aurelei the keys to the Mustang and motioned for his wife to gather up the acid-eyed Amazon and bring her along. The woman was reluctant but was finally encouraged to move. Going around to the trunk, Eric gathered a few things from it into a suitcase and set it down before closing the trunk. Turning to Aura, he spoke a bit more calmly, normally.
Eric Donavan "Take her to our place and make sure she's okay. I have to wait for my help to arrive."
Aurelei Donavan "Eric...you're really scaring me right now..."
Eric Donavan "Shhhh..."
He puts a finger to her lips and smiles slightly.
Eric Donavan "Please do as I say."
It was the promise that if she did as he asked, things would be okay. But could it be trusted at this point?
Aurelei Donavan "Okay. I love you."
Eric nods slightly, getting a hold of himself for a moment...long enough to respond.
Eric Donavan "...I love you too. Now move. Things are going to get nasty here very soon."
Gathering up the suitcase, Eric goes back inside the building. Once he hears the motor of his treasured Mustang no longer, he kneels down by Snake's body and closes his eyes...either praying or meditating...and waiting for someone to arrive. A shadow seems to move behind Eric but there’s nothing in sight or motion that could manifest it. It’s more of a suggestion, a smoky image reaching through a thought or a dream to manifest. Yet still it moves, moves until it stands behind Eric at which point the ‘smoke’ blows away to reveal the image of Snake himself. He sets a ghostly hand upon his brother’s shoulder and Eric stiffens slightly but doesn’t move.
”I’m…sorry.”
The ghost melts away into nothing and it is difficult to see but Eric’s eyes squeeze shut a little more tightly for a moment, allowing a solitary drop to slide down his cheek and fall to the pool of red below him.
Eric Donavan “…so am I.”
SEVERAL DAYS LATER…
”He hasn’t spoken since that day. Not to me, not to anyone. Not even to his son. If he’s not sleeping, he’s in the garage tinkering with the Mustang or down in the basement working out in the ring. He barely even eats. I’ve known Eric for upwards of fifteen years and I’ve never seen him this way. On those rare moments where I can look into his eyes…I don’t see the man I love. I see the man who died.”
The uncharacteristically solemn voice of Aurelei Donavan speaks as we go from darkness to light, into the kitchen of the Donavan home in Asheville, North Carolina. The hour is considerably late or early depending on your perspective, with the lights in the room dimmed down. Pacing back and forth across the polished linoleum, her bare feet carrying her silently, is the woman herself. She’s on the phone with someone, clutching the cordless receiver tightly as she holds it to her ear. Listening seems to be all she’s doing at this point, the only sound is that of her footsteps and her voice-over.
”David’s death hit us all hard. He was a brother to me by marriage and someone I was very close to even before I met Eric. Losing him hurts me every bit as much as losing Monica, my sister and his ex-wife, did. I hope that I haven’t lost my husband into the bargain. Eric said that David was the last family he had, and except for myself and Liam, that’s the truth. He’s alone now, at least in his mind. People tell me that I need to snap him out of this and remind him of what he still has, but I know he knows. This just…has to run its course.”
Aurelei stops her pacing, finally speaking aloud.
Aurelei Donavan “I promise I’ll take care of him. Yes, he’ll be ready for the match on Sunday night. You have my word on that. I’m giving him his space for the moment. Right now? He’s downstairs in the ring, where he has been for the last four hours. Oh, hold on a moment…”
She brings the phone down and glances at the caller ID. Her expression goes from one of tired concern to marked anger. Bringing the phone back up, she addresses the person on the other end.
Aurelei Donavan “These people…no fucking respect. I’m sorry, but I need to take this call. Would you like me to call you back? True…yes, it can wait till we’re all in Phoenix. Travel safely. And thank you.”
Her words to the person are heartfelt. But when she brings the phone down, switches lines, and comes back up, the more common Aurelei fury is in full effect.
Aurelei Donavan “What?! Yes I know who the hell this is! Do you people have no semblance of respect?!”
There’s a brief moment as the caller responds, then Aurelei cuts in.
Aurelei Donavan “You couldn’t even wait till the day after to start making all our phones ring off the hook, blowing up our inboxes with constant messages and even sending people to our fucking house! All because you need your damn story to paste all over the goddamn internet! Do you KNOW what in the hell he’s going through right now as you pester us for interviews and sound bites?! DO YOU?!”
She’s stopped her pacing at this point, stopping short of slamming her fist down on the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Aurelei forces her voice down so as not to wake Liam or disturb Eric as she snarls at the other half of the conversation.
Aurelei Donavan “Sorry my ass! If you were sorry you wouldn’t be fucking calling our house at two in the morning because you have some pithy little deadline to meet! So we’re going to take care of this right now. You have exactly…”
Aurelei lifts her wrist a bit, glancing to the watch wrapped around it.
Aurelei Donavan “…half an hour to meet us at Malvern Hills Park. It isn’t negotiable. You either meet us there or you don’t get your little interview. And if you’re one minute late, we’re gone. Clock’s ticking.”
Jamming her thumb into the hang-up button with ferocity, Aurelei sets the phone back in its cradle on the counter and takes a deep breath. At that point, she looks up and straight ahead for a moment, moving sharply as though she’s seen or heard something out of place. Then she turns and looks over her shoulder to find Eric standing at the basement door. How long he’d been there isn’t certain, but the hours spent in the ring had him glistening in the low light as sweat beaded on his bare torso. His eyes were hooded by low lids and his dark hair hanging in front of his face as he seemed to stare at his wife silently. Aurelei takes a breath to compose herself.
Aurelei Donavan “You heard?”
Eric nods once, slightly.
Aurelei Donavan “Get dressed then. I’ll drive.”
Without a word the Irish Dragon turns on his heel and moves down the hallway to another room, closing the door behind him. Aurelei’s fingers go to her eyes as she forces herself into a calmer state before walking out of the shot herself.
TWENTY-EIGHT MINUTES LATER…
The chill air wafting down from the Great Smoky Mountains on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina cause the night breezes to bite the skin. Born and raised in California, Aurelei clutches her down jacket close to her form, the weather adding to her irritation in this instance. Eric doesn’t seem to be feeling it at all, though. Perched atop a picnic table with his head down, he merely waits for the inevitable. Loose black basketball shorts with gray and white piping, black Otomix wrestling shoes and the aforementioned black hoodie with long-haired skulls down the sleeves seems hardly enough for mid-winter. When a powerful gust rolls through and he doesn’t even shiver, however…we realize just how much colder he is than the season.
Seconds later, a white van squeals up and someone gets out of the driver’s seat, rushing around to the back to dig around for a portable camera. Another person, a male, almost dives out of the passenger side. He comes this close to face-planting in the grass while clutching a wireless microphone but stumbles hard enough that he’s able to keep from falling. Aurelei smirks at this while Eric gives the pair only a cursory glance. The Phoenix checks her watch with a flat expression and comments snarkily.
Aurelei Donavan “My, my…fifteen seconds to spare. You really do want this interview, don’t you?”
The interviewer stares hard at Aurelei for a moment who smirks right back at him, daring him wordlessly to retort. Smartly, he turns to the cameraman who has the camera up and ready, nodding. Taking in a breath and letting it out in a cloud that quickly dissipates, he brings up the microphone, his eyes upon Eric now.
Interviewer “Mr. Donavan, thank you for your time. I know this is an ungodly hour…”
Aurelei coughs unconvincingly to cover up a comment which makes the interviewer stiffen but not lose his composure. He pushes on despite her.
Interviewer “…but wrestling fans, especially NEW fans, want to know what’s going through your mind after the tragedy that occurred recently.”
Eric’s head stays down. The wind threatens to blow his hood back but doesn’t. The only motion he makes is the clenching of his hands into tight fists before they relax and open again. The interviewer looks to a still-smirking Aurelei before turning back to Eric.
Interviewer “Okay, perhaps that’s a touchy subject. Let’s talk about your upcoming match with James Stall at Evolution for the World Heavyweight Championship. Has your outlook on that changed since your recent matches and altercations with the Ayatollah of Aggression?”
Again, nothing but silence. The interviewer starts looking for wires to earbuds, thinking that maybe Eric’s just got some music playing…or that possibly he’s sleeping. A fair guess since his breathing is so even and rhythmic…but he finds neither. He tries one more time.
Interviewer “All right, well…what about the massive eight-man tag team match coming up at NEW TV this Sunday? You’re pairing up with two-thirds of White Noise and the legendary Jimmy Helmsley against Stall, Randy Altzer, Romeo Stylez and Disturbed. Thoughts on that?”
The interviewer steadily became more and more perturbed as his questions went unanswered, as if Eric didn’t even know he existed. Aurelei finally laughs at the situation, unable to hold it in any longer. The interviewer turns to her in an upset fashion.
Interviewer “What is this?! You told us we’d be getting an interview!”
Aurelei Donavan “No, I said we were going to take care of this. Did you think there wasn’t a reason that we weren’t answering all your e-mails and voicemails? Does Eric look like he wants to fucking talk right now? You should be thankful that he’s not tearing your head off and throwing it into the trash can over there. You’re going to get your interview, sparky, but you’re going to put your questions forth to me. As this man’s wife and manager, I’m fully capable of giving you all the information you need and if he FEELS like speaking up, he WILL. But nothing you or anyone else does will make that happen. It’ll be on HIS time and HIS terms. Got it?”
Interviewer “…I guess we don’t have a choice.”
Aurelei Donavan “Glad you could figure that out after I spelled it the fuck out for you. So let’s get back to your first question: the tragedy. You want our thoughts on it? They’re none of your business. When we want to talk to the rest of the world about this, we will. It has nothing to do with NEW TV, Evolution or anything else, so I suggest you drop it. Now…”
Both Aurelei and the interviewer turn to Eric, whose head has shifted slightly as though he’s glancing at something out of the corner of a hooded eye. Then he goes back to his original position and Aurelei turns back to the interviewer.
Aurelei Donavan “As for the champion and the upcoming title match, why don’t you ask Stall that question? There’s something you and everyone else need to realize about the Irish Dragon and the so-called Ayatollah of Aggression, and that’s the fact that Stall has never once defeated Eric. The battle royal prior to Challenger Series saw Eric toss the big bastard over the top rope to the floor and take the win. Yes, Stall retained the strap at the pay-per-view but he did it by pinning Tombstone, not Eric. Not for lack of trying but after tasting his own sledgehammer for a second time, he thought better of trying his luck with the fire-breathing warrior sitting over here. And at NEW TV 57…well, why don’t YOU tell the world who won that match?”
The interviewer’s eyes widen for a moment, surprised at the directive, but he stutters out the answer.
Interviewer “Er-Eric did…pinned Stall post-Dragon Fang.”
Aurelei Donavan “Welcome to fucking reality. Welcome to the Year of the Dragon.”
Unmistakable pride is in Aurelei’s tone, her icy blue eyes turning to Eric before she turns back to the interviewer.
Aurelei Donavan “Twice Eric has beaten Stall and all the champion can do is throw a tantrum and a few insults. And to what end? Eric came out in peace several weeks ago with a gift for the champ. An expensive, heartfelt gift, mind you. And Stall smashed that gift in Eric’s face and drove him into a pile of whiskey and broken glass. Does that indicate dominance to you? It doesn’t to me. Because the moment Eric showed his face at the main event later that night, Stall ended up losing to someone he’s run down from the get-go in Robbie Priest, a man who did more than his part in earning the win at NEW TV 57.
Post-match, Stall goes and proves my point before I can even make it, whipping out his mighty sledgehammer like he’s the second coming of the Thunder God and smashing Eric with it. I’ll credit Stall for having brains, going for Eric’s head after the concussion and after-effects of said injury. But that doesn’t make him a big man and it sure as hell doesn’t make him a dominant champion. It makes him a coward…a craven, violent coward who will do ANYTHING to not lose his title. I respect that dedication and a small part of me, the part that was once the Queen Bitch of ACW, respects his methods. They are effective, like them or not. But better men have beaten Eric worse and in the end they were left lying in his wake in a pile of blood and ash. Stall won’t be any different in the end.”
The interviewer nods slowly.
Interviewer “And, um, if I may…how is Eric after that blow?”
Aurelei turns to her husband again, his hands clenching tight for another moment before loosening. Concern moves across her features briefly.
Aurelei Donavan “The doctor says that the concussion symptoms weren’t worsened by the attack but that Eric has some bruised ribs and his knee is a little shaky…”
Concern becomes anger, which morphs into satisfaction as Aura turns back to the man with the microphone.
Aurelei Donavan “But like Eric said himself, Stall didn’t seal the deal. That will come back to burn him in due time.”
Again the interviewer nods, daring a glance at Eric whose breathing is a bit heavier now, puffs of exhaled breath coming out at regular intervals now as though he’s slowly rising to anger.
Interviewer “What about the tag match coming up this Sunday?”
Aurelei continues to smile, though it’s just a touch more genial now.
Aurelei Donavan “It’s going to get ugly fast. Eric’s in there with friends and allies as well as Jimmy Helmsley, someone who Eric feels is an impressive competitor. Priest and Tombstone are a rarity in this business, people who have conviction and know what honor is all about. Eric thinks quite highly of them as people well know. I think you’ll be seeing some impressive cohesion between all four.”
Interviewer “What of Stall’s half of this monumental main event?”
Aurelei Donavan “What about them?”
She makes an expression akin to someone spitting out something nasty.
Aurelei Donavan “The cowardly champion, a brainless monster, a serial rapist…and well…there’s nothing wrong with Romeo Stylez. If you ask me, he’s on the wrong side of this match and I hope we don’t see him get stabbed in the back by his own partners.”
Her concern seems genuine. Then her expression hardens again, as does her tone.
Aurelei Donavan “The world knows what Eric has done to Stall and vice-versa. The world also knows that Eric has kicked the shit out of Disturbed every time they’ve crossed paths. He’s not worth the breath I’d waste overstating that point. Eric and RAW have never faced off before and when this match is over, that loudmouthed sonofabitch will wish it had stayed that way. I don’t care how many titles he’s won or how good he thinks he is. If he gets in Eric’s way, there’s pain in his future. He’s better off letting Jimmy have all his focus. At least Jimmy would let him walk out after all’s said and done. Eric would not, WILL NOT, be as kind.”
Interviewer “And Romeo? Might Eric be looking to give the man a receipt after their last match?”
Aurelei Donavan “Absolutely not. No hard feelings there. Eric told Romeo to bring his A-game and he did. Romeo won the match and good on him for doing so. Eric will work twice as hard to make sure it doesn’t happen again and the next match will be even better as a result.”
At this point, Eric gets up from the table without a word and walks over to the trash can pointed out earlier, where the interviewer’s head could have been had things gone ill. Eric reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and comes up with three pictures: one of James Stall, one of RAW and one of Disturbed. He tears each one in half but not in two…just enough to rip the image down the middle. Dropping them into the can, he takes a small can of lighter fluid out of his pocket and douses the can’s contents before striking a match and dropping it in. The sudden rush of flame illuminates the lower half of Eric’s face as he stands staring down at the flames, hands in his pockets. No smile, no smirk…just a cold, impassive mask. After a few moments he takes out a picture of Romeo and stares at it for a moment, then puts it back in his pocket.
The symbolism is obvious: three out of four will burn. The other has earned no such strife or pain. Aurelei smiles in satisfaction at her husband while the interviewer turns back her way.
Interviewer “Um, message sent, I suppose. Any further comment?”
Eric walks past them both, heading for the parking area where Aurelei’s purple 4x4 pickup is parked. He leans against it in silence as Aurelei returns her attention to the interviewer.
Aurelei Donavan “Make no mistake: Eric is hurting right now whether he’s showing it or not. Stall did a number on him but it’s nothing he hasn’t survived before. With that, we’ve said enough. It’s time for action. Sunday night, Eric will stand tall when the smoke settles, his enemies at his feet, his allies at his side…and Stall’s championship reign in dire straits.”
She turns on her heel and walks to the truck, Eric getting in at the same time she does as the scene fades to black.
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Eric Donavan's Wikia Page Twitter: @NEWIrishDragon
NEW Record: 28-11-2 All-Time Record: 73-24-6
1x NEWEra World Heavyweight Champion: 11/03/13-12/15/13
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