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Sprung to Action
Topic Started: May 15 2018, 10:19 AM (64 Views)
MrBiscut
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Do Your Worst,I've Heard All The Brokeback Cracks
As the scene comes to life on the tron; Alexander Owens is sitting on a low embankment above a shallow coulee; a large pipe laying just below his hanging feet as a small black satchel sits by his side. His is dressed for the warm Georgia spring; jeans and compression shirt that just covers the still fresh bruises of his battle with Dixie. His left knee is locked in a brace; another gift from his encounter with Dixie The sky is grayed; a light drizzle threatening to fall sooner than later. His face; still puffy in a spot or two from the assault of not only Dixie but a rough SuperBattle. What is most telling is the stern look on his face; his eyes are narrow as stare out.

Owens: We all have our battles we face. Some men battle addiction; inner demons that threaten tear them apart. Just ask a guy like Jesse Drive; and he’ll tell you,or drone at you,about his battle and how he found they ways to overcome his. Others battle against time and their own legacy; fighting longer than necessary for something they don’t need. Nox,LeBlanc and anyone that keeps dragging themselves from exile just to hear a cheer or get a pop can inform you of this; old soldiers fighting imangneary foes in a never ending war. And some people; they fight something much more dangerous and deadly than time and demons. They fight themselves.

Owens’s drops his head into his hands. He looks tired, drawn thin and wispy in the dark afternoon. The light that normally fills his eyes is extinguished; the smile that adorns his face is missing and forgotten.

Owens: They fight and kill everything that makes them who they are; tearing apart and rendering useless all the things they once were. It’s a bloody grim battle; one far more involved and arduous than any battle that for a little bit of metal and leather. In these battles; some men never return and even if they do their can never claim to be the same again.

Owens squeezes a clumped bit of something in his right hand, a low crinkling emitting as he does. Rubbing and grabbing at his left knee; Owens keeps facing forward and speaks.

I walked that path and paid in kind; leaving behind a little bit of flesh and little bit of blood along the way as not only crippled one of my dearest friend but also ran roughshod over multiple people in SuperBattle; eliminating four in the process; an impressive feat for a man working on one good leg and deeply wounded heart. But the flesh and blood payment is minassualto what i gave up on that night. Blood and flesh was an easy sacrifice. I’ve given buckets of blood and lbs of flesh for this business and for the accomplishment of my goals in it. No at SuperBattle I gave up a lot more. I gave up my soul. I gave up my morals. I crossed a line I never could. I was ruthless and pitiless in the face of submission and defeat. I never stopped fighting even when she did. I wanted,needed,had to break her simply to make myself feel better.

Owens pauses for a second; the gentle rubbing and tugging at his knee changing to a furious ripping motion as he snacthes the brace off his leg and flings it into the coulee below.

Owens: And what was my reward?!? What did all that rage and wrath lead to ?!? Nothing. I get tossed out of SuperBattle and helped to the back; where I get bangaged up and told that not only is “Bane” out of jail but that he not really even Bane; just some jack off named Henry Jenkins; a lacky in some kind of Mr.Wrestling esque dynasty of jack off named Bane; he being the most recent version of the Bane dynasty. Add in that said man had come in and picked Dixie up and disappeared and let’s just say that the med room got overturned and rearranged a little.

Owens stands up; shakily at first but soon finds a stable spot and stance.

Owens: But in all honesty I can’t say I’m angry. That’s what John...Henry...whoever’s relationship was like; a hallway of smoke n’ mirror wrapped in conspriancy and double crosses. It was exhausting. So with that being said, for now, perhaps I can let it all be and focus on something more important; something that a bit more pressing.

Owens reaches down with his left hand and pulls out the X-title.

Owens: THIS...this hunk of metal and scrap of leather is my ticket to Summerfest and is my final reward for my efforts in PRW. As the last person that faced me for it did win on a technically; they should be due a rematch. But we all know that’s not gonna happen. So as such I am putting it out; right here and right now, if you want a piece of this title; I’ll be bring to Washington DC on May 20th and opening up the floor for discussion on it future. So come one, come all; the Summerfest season has begun and I’m looking to add another notch to this belt with someone’s skull and 1...2...3.

Standing up; Owens slings the belt over his shoulder and slowly walks off; a bit of a limp still present in his left leg. As walks away; he toss the crumpled up thing in his left hand behind him. As it hits the ground, it uncrumpled at bit and reveal itself as a pic of Owens and his wife sharing a high end meal with a beaming Dixie Lanford and uncomfortable looking but willing John “Henry Jenkins” Bane. As a light breeze picks it up and blows it softly across the ground; a light rain starts to come down; the picture starting to deteriorate as it fades from sight.
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