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Vergeltung #6: Ich Bin Kein Held
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Topic Started: Aug 8 2013, 06:48 AM (102 Views)
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Tombstone
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Aug 8 2013, 06:48 AM
Post #1
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- April 27, 2012
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July 18th, 2013 Newark, New Jersey 01:07 am Newark-Wayne Community Hospital
The night air was anything but cool. Beads of sweat form on the back of Tombstone's head as he walks away from the hospital entrance. He reaches up, ripping the bandages from his forehead, revealing a row of shiny staples. He tosses the bandages to the ground as he continues walking, coming to a stop at the curb. He looks around, seeing a taxi pulled up not too far away. He turns, walking up to it and knocking on the window. The driver waves him in and he opens the back door, climbing in. The taxi shifts to one side slightly as the driver sits up a little bit, looking in the rear view mirror at his shadow cloaked passenger.
Driver: "Whoa, you're a big guy! Where ya headed, friend?"
Tombstone: "Just drive. I'll direkt you. Ist not zat far."
Driver: "You got it, pal."
The taxi pulls away from the curb and Tombstone rolls down the back window, the nearly hot night air crashing into his face. The driver looks in the rear view mirror again as he pulls out of the parking lot, catching just a glimpse of Tombstone's face. The big man looks forward, looking straight out of the windshield and at the light ahead.
Tombstone: "Keep going straight at zee light. Make a right three lights down."
Driver: "Sure thing. Say... you sound kind of familiar."
Tombstone looks back out of the window, ignoring the driver. The last thing he wanted to do was get in some hollow conversation with the man, especially if he knew who he was. His mind was still processing everything that had happened earlier in the night. What happened when Alexis woke up... the hallway of babies crying... what the priest said... everything. It had all happened in such a short amount of time. It was hard to even try and think of it right now.
The taxi makes a right and Tombstone looks back up, nodding his head.
Tombstone: "Make a left in a kouple of streets."
They pass a street light, the entire back seat lit up for just a second. It was just enough time for the driver to fully see who was in his cab. His eyes light up as he smiles widely, having to look back at the road for a moment to keep from swerving to the side.
Driver: "Holy shit! I know you! You're that, that, that wrestler guy! From the TV! My kid fucking loves you, man! You're like a hero to him!"
Tombstone slowly looks up toward the front. The driver's eyes dance back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror, a sheepish grin on his face. Tombstone takes a deep breath as the words resonate in his ears. He looks down at his hands, shaking his head.
Tombstone: "I am no hero."
Driver: "Sure you are! My son thinks you're the best! I swear I've never seen that kid so excited about somebody... or anything for that matter! Loves the way you come out, loves the way you look, loves your accent, loves everything about you, man! That makes you a hero to him!"
Tombstone: "How old is he?"
Driver: "He'll be 10 next month."
Tombstone: "I see. Turn right."
The driver slows down a little bit to make the turn. He looks back in the rear view mirror, still smiling.
Driver: "Yeah, man, you should have seen him on Sunday. He was so mad when that Eric fella walked out on you. I knew if I wasn't there, he would've been cursing at the TV! And then when your lady got hurt, he---"
Tombstone: "I'd rather not talk about that."
Driver: "Oh... oh yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. Is she doing okay?"
Tombstone lets out a sigh, looking back out the open window.
Tombstone: "She's avake now if zat ist vhat you mean."
Driver: "So she'll be fine? That was a rather nasty blow she took."
The image of the flower vase Eric had sent to Alexis' room flying through the air popped up in Tombstone's head. He could still hear it as it crashed onto the hallway floor, water and shards flying everywhere. He didn't know if he should tell the driver what had happened earlier or to keep him in the dark. He didn't know if he wanted anybody to know what had happened earlier.
Tombstone: "...she should be fine..."
Driver: "Good, good. My son will be happy to hear that. Hey... you wouldn't mind if I took a picture of you and maybe got your autograph, would you? He'd flip out over that."
Tombstone: "Sure... Just get me to vhere I need to be first..."
-----
15 minutes later...
The cab pulls away from the curb, honking a couple of times as the driver puts his arm out of the window and happily waves. Tombstone doesn't even pay attention as he shuffles up the walkway to the front door. His tired eyes look over the newly remodeled house that had bled his bank account dry. He lets out a sigh as Alexis' increasing hospital bill enters his mind. He shakes his head as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. He opens the front door and steps inside, shutting the door behind him.
The house was quiet. He throws the keys down on the table by the door, taking a couple steps toward the stairs, his boots thudding on the brand new hard wood floor. He climbs the stairs, catching a faint whiff of Alexis' perfume. His heart skips a beat as a grimace slowly forms on his face. In his mind's eye, he could see Eric Donavan storming up the ramp, not even bothering to turn back. The smell of perfume gets stronger as he nears the top of the steps. The mental image jumps from Eric to Fabulous Disaster stomping the living hell out of him. Blood filled his vision as he saw nothing but boots.
He stops at the top of the stairs, closing his eyes as he grips the guard rail. The smell of perfume was strong now as a ball of anger begins to grow in his stomach, much like earlier in the day. The image of RAW hitting Alexis in the head with a baseball bat flashes before his eyes as he steps into the bedroom. His breathing becomes very heavy as the smell of perfume surrounds him. He looks all around the room, his fists clinching tightly. He could hear the roar of the crowd as he steps further into the room. He stops in front of the mirror, his mind replaying everything from Sunday to right now in a matter of seconds.
And finally... he broke.
He grabs the chair to his right, letting out a yell as he throws it into the mirror. Glass falls as he picks up the chair again, ripping a leg off it and throwing it across the room. He takes the rest of the chair, throwing it against the wall and watching it turn to rubble. He pushes the bookcase over, all the contents thudding on the floor as it slowly falls before landing against the table where all of Alexis' makeup was kept. Tombstone kicks the bookcase off it in one motion, then grabs the table and flips it over. The makeup case and mirrors go flying everywhere as he picks up another chair and throws it into the wall over the bed. He walks toward the chair and table at the end of the bed, kicking the table over and picking up the chair. He lifts it over his head, letting out a yell, when something catches his eye.
He looks down at the floor, seeing Alexis' sketch pad lying partly open. It had been sitting on the table before he kicked it over. He slowly sets the chair down, then reaches for the pad, carefully opening it to the page that caught his eye. The conversation he had with Alexis from that past Saturday goes through his mind as he stares at the page.
"<What are you doing?>"
"<Don't worry about what I'm doing. Just worry about what you're going to talk about for the next 15 minutes or so.>"
"<15 minutes?>"
"<Yes. 15 minutes. Then you can go play wrestler.>"
The sound of her pencil on the paper was still in his ears as he stares down at the page. It was calming to him as he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, paying no mind to the destruction he had just caused. That night was the night before everything went to Hell. He had been talking about Kyle Travis and Tommy Zeller and the Degenerate Bastards and even Eric's actions up to that point. All of it was a bit overwhelming. And Alexis had seen that. And when she saw something she liked... she drew it.
He stares at the paper, now completely calm. She had spent hours on this after the 15 minutes had been up. No matter how much he begged her, she wouldn't let him see what she was doing. And now he knew why. She said he would see when the time was right. The question on his mind now... was this the time she had in mind? Probably not...

But looking at this sketch did make him motivated. Everyone that had a hand in what happened... McCoy... Kyle... RAW... even Eric to a small extent... they would all learn, one way or another, that there were just some lines that were never meant to be crossed.
-----
The scene fades in on the darkened room with the bright light in the back. You can see the outline of a chair in front of the light as it flickers. No one is sitting in the chair this time as the light flickers on and off for a moment. The camera remains stationary for a few moments, taking in this simplest of scenes before the low, but booming voice of Tombstone is heard. He speaks slowly, only small traces of his accent heard.
"Hero... That's a word we've come to hear quite often lately. It seems many people around here either want to be the hero or they want to be the one to prove that there are no heroes, no good or evil, just shades of gray. When I say the word 'hero', many faces flash through my mind. Andy Titsuhiro and Brandi Storm. Jenni Taylor. Tommy Zeller. And, of course, the man that started all of this hero business... the World Heavyweight Champion himself, Romeo Stylez. But do you know whose face doesn't flash through my mind at the mere mention of the word 'hero'?
My own."
As he speaks, an image begins to fade in over the scene. It's hard to distinguish exactly what it is at the moment and the flickering light made it even more difficult to catch a good look.
"There are many words that describe me. Hero has never been one of them. Not once since this hero craze has washed over NEWera has my name been mentioned in the same sentence as 'hero'. Not once... until now.
Eric... If you think I'm trying to be your hero... then this is already tougher than it has to be."
The image is now fully faded in, superimposed over the light and chair. It's a still image of a bloody Alexis, laying unconscious in the middle of the ring.
"I know I am no hero, Eric. And neither are you. And you are aware of that as well. That kind of thing... just isn't us, is it? Maybe some of the people around here are right. Maybe everything is just shades of gray. But I like to think that for some people, that word means something and inspires them to do something great, to think outside of themselves.
You and I... we are not capable of that, are we... friend?
No. Is it because our lives up to this point have been less than stellar? Tommy claims to be a hero and his life has had its ups and downs. But has it been like ours? And can we really make that call? Can anyone make that call? To be honest... I don't think either of us can. Our lives make us who we are. Each of us respond differently to our molding. Some of us are crushed under the weight. Some of us rise above it. You, Eric? It's hard to tell anymore... but I am not here to be your hero. Because I could not be a hero for her, the person closest to me. Look at her, Eric. I couldn't do anything to help her that night. In fact... she was the one trying to help me. This little woman... helping someone like me. She did not care about numbers. She did not care about accidents. She only cared about one thing. Helping the one she loved."
You can hear him take a deep breath as the image begins to fade out. A large figure sits down in the chair, icy blue eyes peering out of the darkness and right into the camera.
"To me... that sounds like a hero, does it not, Donavan? And she paid a steep price for her bravery. I will never forget that moment. Not for as long as I live. But I also won't forget you turning your back. Like I said, Eric... you will get my help, whether you like it or not. But you seem to have misunderstood me. Because I compared our situation to the situation I had with Romeo... doesn't mean I'm trying to fully take on Romeo's role. I know I'm not capable of being a hero like him. Where he never gave up and was convinced he could get through to me... I can't do that. I am not good with words. My patience is horrible. What I do know... is punishment.
And you are very familiar with that method, yes?
It was how our respect and friendship was forged. Romeo had to force himself to keep getting up against me until finally, it just clicked in my head. But with you... I will have to keep forcing you to get up. No matter how you try to get away... no matter how much you want to turn your back again... I will be right there. Because it doesn't matter what you throw at me, Eric. I will always be right there. And you know this to be true. This 'reality' you find yourself in now... it's a false one. You have convinced yourself that you are doing what needs to be done... that you are right... that you will return back to your former self.
No, Eric. You won't. Not without help. Because it's as simple as comparing you... to an addict. An addict says they can quit any time, that they'll get there on their own conditions, that they don't need help. You, Eric, are addicted to this 'darkness' you speak of. And you need help finding your way out of it. Just like you cannot be trusted to back me up when I most need you... You can't be trusted to guide yourself out of your present state."
The icy eyes narrow in the darkness as he leans back, the chair creaking.
"I am not trying to be your hero. Because you don't need a hero, Eric. You need a friend. Just like I told you when you first returned months ago. Do you remember what you said to me... about your son? About how you wanted to see him again? Do you really think this path is going to lead you to him? Have you really convinced yourself that this is the way? Because it's just like I said then. It isn't. Every step you take down this path puts you further and further away from your son. Yet... you don't need help.
So how far will I go in order to show you the way? As far as I have to. My way may not be as... what's the word? Aesthetically shocking as what Stall did to me or what you did upon your return. But you know me, Eric. In all our battles, you definitely know me. I prefer a much more subtle, yet forceful approach. You will be in pain, you will know what is causing you pain and you will slowly go through more. And you will go through pain, Eric. That much is clear. That much... is guaranteed.
I am well aware of the consequences this match holds for the both of us. And I have already accepted it. I do not fear what this match will bring. I will take you on, as I have before, and then with every single cut, bruise or break you have given me, I will walk into Vindication and defend my title against Kyle Travis. Because that is what I do, Eric. Consequences, especially in this case, are no more than a necessity. But are you ready to face that? Or are you going to continue to hide in your darkness... and pretend that I can't see you?"
The icy blue eyes narrow once more as he lets out a grunt. He stands up, the light flickering. It flickers rapidly and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he is gone, leaving only the chair behind. The light continues to flicker before it goes completely out, leaving the screen in nothing but darkness.
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 W/L/D 25/12/0 The Streak: 11/0/0, June 24th, 2012-December 15th, 2012, Broken by Bombtrack 3x NEWera Televison Champion - 08/19/12-02/24/13 - 03/09/2013-04/21/2013 - 05/19/2013-11/3/2013 Longest Reigning NEWera Television Champion - 189 Days
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