Post by Deleted on May 6, 2014 17:20:29 GMT -6
Nocturnal sat awaiting his new master's arrival.
"Stop pacing, you're giving me a headache Emily."
With a click, Emily came to a sudden halt. She narrowed her dark eyes at her brother who was sitting on a bench in the locker room. Momentarily distracted, she grimaced. Her eyes trailed along the rest of the locker room. The room was a bit quieter now that the other members of Rodrigo’s entourage were around to get under her feet.
As the shock of seeing her brother actually letting Rodrigo get inside his head was enough to send her over the edge, she was pacing again. She could feel Nocturnal rolling his eyes behind her back.
"I am sorry," he droned, having grown tired of Emily's worry years ago. "I could do that to Summer. I know you probably expected me to beat her to a pulp so I could get you guys out of his cult but I’m not that bad." He reminded her in such a casual tone that she couldn't help but scowl.
“What we got going on in here?”
Nocturnal turned suddenly to see Rodrigo Ramon Rojas, Blaine, Jebediah Koresh and Aurora Deadwood enters the locker room. Rodrigo had a devious smile upon his face.
“So Alexander,” Rodrigo said. “I like it when a plan works just right but one thing…….Will you be bringing the NEW World title belt back to our little coterie for me or for yourself?”
Nocturnal gets right in Jesse’s face before Jebediah tries to split them up. “Alex, I know this is fucked up dude but you’ve got to listen to the Father. He knows what he’s talking about. He wouldn’t have really put Summer in danger.”
Aurora walked right up to Nocturnal and showed no fear. "Come on baby. You know it’s for the best?" She stroked his cheek and flinched gravely. She immediately hid her revulsion, but he saw the shiver pass through the tendons in her throat. It was there in the way she bit down on the end of each word as if spitting, the stiffness of her cold hand. Her distaste was almost erotic. Whatever else she felt, she was not afraid of him.
There was some fight in her, some misplaced pride. It would be so much… fun to bleed that out of her as that was piss off her new master. The allure of this game was what Rodrigo would do to him if he put a finger on her. Since he had lost Aurora to him he had been looking for the next acquisition but no one has even be worthy of that as of yet.
It wasn't an innocuous question she had asked. She had said, "You know It’s for the best?" leaning on the word "Best." The naive woman, she didn't want to know really as she was testing the father too. There was a sweaty mascara tear on her ripe cheek.
"Best?" he asked, pulling the last word into a growl as he looked her up and down slowly. “You know that?”
“Alexander, I wouldn’t even go there.” Jebediah said as he held back Blaine who had started to lose his cool.
“Alexander, come on be serious.” Rodrigo said. “They’ve booked you in a match this week against someone that seems to be a watered down version of you. You’ve got a chance to get into Terrordome once again.”
“Really Rodrigo?” Nocturnal moved the words around his torn mouth lasciviously, slobbering tongue lolling uselessly over them. He spoke like a person with numb lips, swallowing and gasping insatiably. Then, he looked at Rodrigo and laughed quietly, a terrible sound in its containment, the danger of a caged maniac. “I know what it’s like to be in that kind of situation. Been there before and know what it takes to win. I will beat Gravedigger and get to Justice and bring home the world champion belt.”
He eyed him stoically and did not attempt to break the eye to eye look.
"Did Emily tell you how I got these scars upon my face?" he rasped into Rodrigo’s ear. His fingers tightened. He would make him see.
"No," he said immediately, his voice impassive. "We're all scarred, Alexander, all in our own way. Don't think you're special. I brought you into my coterie for a reason. You can do your own thing unless it messes with my bigger plans."
Nocturnal’s eyes had widened in shock, like he reacted to a physical slap. It had a chilling effect with his mask of makeup. The rings of black around his eyes expanded like the funnels of a tornado bent on destruction. He took a step back caught off-guard; there was masochistic pleasure in Nocturnal’s contorted face. He threw back his head and laughed.
"Oh, so… true," he hissed. "But where are your scars?" He asked. “I am your scar aren’t I? I won’t let you down. And I won’t let Gravedigger steal my destiny of ripping out some bloody hearts from chests at Justice."
Aurora stepped in front of Nocturnal again. “We must work together. The father is not the monster that you think he is. He saved Emily after all.”
If Aurora was afraid, she did not show it. The revulsion was gone. Her face was as impartial as a mirror. She blinked those lifeless eyes at him in several slow circles. He was so close to her that he could feel the delicate flutter of her eyelashes against his face. So small and so resistant, the beating wings of a broken bird struggling helplessly to escape. Her lashes came away flecked with red. He wanted her to sob, to grovel, to lie down at his level and die, but she merely looked at him. However, his frustration was mingled with expectation. His victory would be all the more gratifying for waiting.
"You want me again don’t you?" she whispered finally. Her words were rather slurred; she was moving her face carefully trying to calm the monster down. "I know you. You're sick. Come on, we were good together. You are fucked in the head Nocturnal. Just like me. I feel sorry for your opponent this week. You’re going to punish him. You’re going to make him pay for anything that you want to put on him. You need to work with the entire coterie. If you all work as a unit then you will all be unstoppable against everyone in NEW."
He scrutinized her for the briefest, most fleeting moment, before the maniacal laughter returned.
"Oh, so… feisty. I like that. But so… rude. Yes Gravedigger will be punished for his sins against us but that is not why I am going to like it so much. No, I like it because like my little moniker is, the Sadistic Bastard, I’m going to enjoy myself so damn much. It is like a mental orgasm when I punish my opponents. Emily gets it. Jebediah gets it. He will get it anyway one day as nobody trusts me for long. And Rodrigo? My smile. But I think I'll tell you anyway. It's kind of a… funny… story."
Rodrigo yawned. “We’re not here for your grandeur stories.”
Like an expert raconteur, he cast around for the thread of a narrative that would stir his new master in a hope that he would show his cards to Nocturnal. "When I was locked away in my little cell at the asylum I was going through a little epiphany of sorts. I was just a tortured spirit so one of the times I managed to escape I had to make a statement. So it happened. I stole a knife from the kitchen and hide myself away. The small blade hung loosely in my filthy, unwashed hand. I was disgusting; the dirt had rotted my mind and made me the disease I am today, to all mankind. I became a type of parasite, feeding off the joy of others, their laughter, and their happiness.”
“What? You were a nut case? NOOOOO!” said Rodrigo with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Come on Alexander. I want to know how you’re getting ready for Gravedigger not how you got those nice little scars.……”
Nocturnal continued without a pause lost in his own story, “Of course, there was the matter of my mental instability, but that can't be held accountable for what I've become. The world's the one who fucked up, not me. The world became a repulsive, maggot-infested sty where the sinner came to play. I am simply a victim of circumstance. They locked me up in some fucked up places; Oh the memories.”
“Come on, this world is not sane Alexander,” replied Jesse. “But you a victim? The world won’t treat you as such. Gravedigger wants a piece of you to prove that he’s not a carbon copy of the old you. He wants to be you does he not?”
“I escaped with my kitchen knife and hid out from my would be assailants. So there I sat, on the cold floor of an abandoned warehouse that reeked of spoiled meat and flesh, holding my tiny dagger, thinking. I had always wanted to do something to this world to rid it of the sadness and sickness caused by the putrid souls that soiled this planet day in, day out. I had become one of the sick, infected with the filth and sadness, but now, it was time for a cure.”
“Cure? Cure yourself? What? Come on Alex.” Jebediah said. “Rodrigo is right. We need to work together for once. I am more than your sidekick.”
“Someone once said that smiles and laughter are the best medicine for a broken heart. Hopefully, a smile can do just as much good to mankind as it could to the heart. Smiles bring joy to a tiny infant's face, showing someone you care...a smile could do...wonders…”
Rodrigo shrugged, “Alexander. Gravedigger won’t be buying your memoirs, no, he will just try and pummel you into the mat. He will take your memoirs afterwards and take over your identity…………..”
Nocturnal continued, “Another epiphany struck like lighting in my brain; it was perfect, but, I had to be sure it was affective. I only had to start with one, they are so contagious, you know? So, I took the blade that I had found in the kitchen, studied it and decided that it had to be done.”
“What? You did that to yourself?” Rodrigo asked. “Why? Why would you disfigure yourself like that my child?”
“Positioning the sharp edge where my lips meet at a crease, I sliced up my cheek, the rusty blade blending with the crimson of my blood. The stinging sensation was unbearable, it was so real; I had to keep going and finish the task. Repeating the same, swift slice on the other cheek, the blood flowed just as much as the first. So real. I was slightly aroused at the sensation. That is the sensation I have tried to duplicate many times whilst wrestling but to no avail. That is what I will hopefully get whilst working my way back to the pinnacle of things at Justice.”
“Slightly aroused?” Jebediah asked. “I always thought Emily was the weird one in our family………”
“I rose to my feet,” Nocturnal said. “Stumbling and falling over myself, the room somewhat spinning. Finding an office on an upper floor, I scavenged through drawer after drawer, searching. Searching for some clothes, I couldn‘t stay in the asylums so called uniform, I looked for a needle and thread. Checking every drawer twice, every nook and cranny once over, the blood from my wounds made a rhythmic 'drip-drap' on the hardwood bureau, still no luck.”
“Alexander?” Rodrigo asked trying to break into Nocturnal’s rant.
“After cursing aloud and ripping up the final desk, I sank to the floor, defeated, for now.” Nocturnal said. “My head was heavy and my stomach churned; I felt nauseous. I closed my eyes and they remained that way for hours.”
“So you escaped and mutilated yourself? Now what other profession could you be in? Oh a professional wrestler. Make’s perfect sense,” said Rodrigo as he as he caressed his beard. “That’s why I wanted you to be my avatar in this battle for the souls of those in NEW.”
Nocturnal didn‘t even seem to pay attention to him, “Upon wakening to a throbbing head and empty gut, its contents splattered on the floor some feet in front of me, a small glistening piece of metal captured my attention; there it was, the dirty little bastard. I blindly grabbed at it, stabbing and pricking my fingertips many times in the process, I ignored it. The little sliver of metal rolled and danced in my palm. How lovely a small thing like a needle could be? I found the black thread somewhere under a newspaper and ran down to the ground floor, cackling and screaming the entire way.”
“Now,” Rodrigo said. “I think your baptism at Kamikaze went a bit wrong. Instead of turning you to the light it has unleashed something different…………”
“Sitting in the middle of the floor,” Nocturnal said. “I worked on my face. I tied the little black thread around and through the eye of the needle. With grubby hands, I placed the point at the starting place of the cut. With no prior or proper anaesthetics, I plunged right in, jamming the needle into the blood-stained cheek, new blood flowing and covered the old. The pain was impeccable, so perfect. I followed suit, puncturing the flesh over and over, more and more blood dribbling down my filthy face, pulling tightly on the thread.”
“………………” Rodrigo just looked shocked, unable to actually talk even though his lips moved trying to form the words.
“In sealing the cut,” Nocturnal said. “I had made sure that the flesh was somewhat pulled up, as if to resemble a grin. The needle and thread proved themselves just as effective and worthy on the other wound; a smile was formed. With the pain subsiding, I ran into the out-of-order restroom where a florescent light flickered annoyingly and the walls were smeared, wet and dripping. The mirror that covered one of the walls was badly cracked but I still managed to reflect on my work; my masterpiece.”
Rodrigo shrugged his shoulders once again. He was so confused and disgusted. “Alexander seems to be set in this little creation of his. He will be a weapon to use against the coming tide of the war. With various people no longer with the company there will be a big rush of people trying to get to the top again.”
“This was who I was meant to be Rodrigo.” Nocturnal said. “I would cure this promotions -nay- this world of its wrong doings. I will be the curer of the damned, the lord of joy and riot, the one to spread happiness and disinfect this dirty, low-life filled earth with a great smile upon my face. This would be my playground. That is the one reason I became a professional wrestler Rodrigo. I could legally do it without being locked away. Again." He breathed the rancid word in his face, leaving a trail of spittle.
"Rodrigo needs to be respected.” Jebediah said. “He is going to bring order to this promotion. And this promotion would be nothing without him." It was stated without anger, the declaration of a naked fact. “He gave your sister her life back.”
Nocturnal’s derisive laughter spiralled wildly out of control. He had underestimated the spirit of his cousin. Not a spark of emotion in that face—a poker face. Such a delight, a rare treat. He would have to raise the stakes of this little game—call forth the most dangerous trick in his arsenal.
“So how’s the hand Emily?” Nocturnal smirked as he knew the damage Pugh and Inkt had done to it wasn’t fully healed. “Did it help you to rediscover your faith in your God?”
“Very funny,” said Emily. “Full of sarcasm today. It’s healing well for your information. But in all seriousness please for Summer’s sake do what is asked of you.”
Nocturnal looked Emily directly in the eyes, “Don’t ever use Summer against me again.”