Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2015 13:24:48 GMT -6
The Red Book: "Impeaching the Talent."
Slowly, we watch the degradation of the civilization
The rise and fall of all we are stands before us
This place is evil
Is there an answer?
This world is vile
We are the answer
Oh!
The big, dramatic, controversy of Digger’s career was reaching its pinnacle, and so was the barbaric feud between himself and the doctors of Robert Young's associates facility, the very place he voluntarily surrendered his freedom in exchange for information and his very own 'refuge' from the outside world he had become so disgusted and revolted towards... Instead he was taken merely prisoner and filed under the alias "Patient X" to be conducted for several psychiatric evaluations and physical endurance tests for research under a disclosed program...
Having extracted his rage and vengeance upon those he had cautiously remaining aware of, Gravedigger fled from the institution and once again remained out of visible public sight for various purposes. Now, during one of the biggest moments of his wrestling career and his very own life which continues to be haunted by his past... Gravedigger is bound to settle the score.
Date: Unknown
Time: 10:55 P.M.
Location: Unknown
Place: Robert Young Medical Institution, Patient Facility
A calm and chilling howl of the wind creeping through the cracks of nearby windows drowns the silence, filling empty hallways as the moonlight from outside illuminates the dark. Gravedigger, formerly known as "Patient X" is fleeing the confines of the asylum and forcefully taking back his freedom. Pressing his back to the wall as he nears an open hallway Digger slides along the wall to the edge, peering around the corner. The blue glowing tint of the moon shines brightly on Digger’s assigned sleepwear. A cotton-woven white t-shirt and solid white cargo pants which stretch down his massive, intimidating frame as he checks around the corner once more. The Radial Plan-like structure of the building saw the long wings of the Asylum radiate outwards from a central point, thus reflecting the style of prisons of that era. This style was considered inhumane even in its day due to the lack of natural light, circulation of air and space for airing courts. Digger spotting a patrolman walking the halls sways his nightstick back and forth as he shines his flashlight from door to door securing the West wing of the dormitory hallways. Agile and quietly Digger stalks the patrolman before reaching for the nightstick, the guard in a panic turns and lunges for Digger in attempt to restrain him but Digger counters. Twisting the man's arm around before removing the handcuffs from his belt, and without a sound Digger jabs the sharp edge of one of the cuffs into the guard's eye-socket. Collapsing to the ground within an instant the guard is incapacitated.
Digger pulls the man's large frame into a nearby custodian closet and locks the door to dispose of the body. Taking the patrolman's keys and tranquilizer syringes as well, improvising as he goes along while running down the cold, tiled floor of the facility barefoot. Cutting a corner Digger brushes past a doorway but quickly stops himself turning his attention to the door reading "Patient Personal Storage", before using the patrolman's keys to get inside. Digger slips up and down the narrow aisles of shelves of patient belongings and personal items, before his attention is drawn to a box title "Gravedigger". Grasping the box excitingly Digger sets the box on the cold floor and begins to rummage through the contents. Unknown to Digger, another patrolman has noticed a crack in the storage room door and crept in to investigate. Before spotting Digger and tackling him into a nearby shelf as it topples over. Both men scrambling to their feet, as the patrolman wrestles Digger into a tight headlock sleeperhold attempting to restrain him.
Digger gasping for air as the veins along his forehead begin to pulse feels his skin burn as his lungs pound inside his chest slowing down. Reaching into his pocket, Digger grasps a handful of the syringe needles and quickly pulls them out striking them into the patrolman's neck. Struggling at first the man releases his hold on Digger and trips back against the wall clutching his neck, gasping for air before immediately collapsing going comatose. Despite putting the man out of his way Digger becomes frustrated as he clutches his neck, regaining his composure and oxygen while getting to his feet. Staggering over to the unconscious patrolman Digger lifts the man over his head, and straps the man by the collar of his uniform onto the overhead ceiling fan. The pale-like glow of his skin returns to normal as Digger spits a wad of saliva at the dangling patrolman, which leaves a disgusted look upon his face turning back to his personal belongings. Hovering over the box Digger discovers a plastic zip-lock bag containing a cellphone and his wallet, removing both items in curiosity. Mashing the blood-stained buttons of his cellphone the bright screen illuminates showing:
1 Missed Call
1 New Voicemail
Digger begins listening to the voicemail carefully.
"Digger, its Jesse Styles-Long time no see partner, just calling to check in and see if you were still looking for work. If you're ever interested in getting back in the ring... let me know."
"End of message, you have no more messages."
Digger begins dialing on the phone and holds the phone up to his ear...
"Jesse? It's Digger."
Digger mumbles into the phone.
"Digger! Never thought I would hear from you again old buddy, how are things?"
Jesse replies.
Meanwhile Digger glances up to the patrolman's body dangling from the ceiling fan...
"They're lookin' up..."
Digger answers back watching the man's dangling body slowly spin.
"Have the doctor's already given you the medical release? I mean like are you cleared to compete again, y'know...?"
Jesse inquires about the mental state of Digger condition vaguely.
Digger pauses while holding the phone, overlooking the path of violence and brutality caused by his hand throughout the halls and lobby of the psych ward.
"Without question."
Digger smirks, replying with a tone of confidence as he answers back.
Hours Later...
Date: Unknown
Time: 11:45 A.M.
Location: Unknown
Place: Robert Young Medical Institution, North Facility
The menacing glow from a nearby desk lamp flickers as it bounces off the wall before illuminating a large office, meanwhile the clattering ruckus of car keys rattle onto the desk. An aged man near his late-forties slides a black suit jacket from his shoulders, hanging it over the back of his leather desk chair and sighs. A gentle wave of his slick-back dark gray strands of what remains to be his short hair, before adjusting a white, black-striped formal long-sleeved shirt as he sits at his desk.
Overlooking several papers scattered across a calendar and a few folders, while a long, golden name plate resting along the edge of his desk reads 'Professor Howard Young, M.D.'. Carefully he raises a small, sizzling black coffee mug which has the phrase "Grandpa of the Year" imprinted on one side. Gently he lifts the mug and takes a short sip as the contents slightly burn his wrinkled lower lip, before quickly setting the mug down and grabbing a napkin.
"Damnit..."
the doctor grumbles quietly under his breath as he lightly taps the paper napkin along the stubbles of his gray-haired beard.
Minutes later a knocking is heard from behind his office door.
"Uh, come in-come in..."
The doctor finally responds hesitantly, as he dusts off the pants of his black dress pants and resumes sitting...
As the door opens, a short, dark-haired scrawny man enters the room in almost a fleeting manner dressed in a black shirt and tie, with khaki pants that appear to have no fluid motion with his movements as he approaches the desk...
(Doctor Young's Associate)
"Doctor Young, erm... sir, we-we have a serious problem I need to discuss with you, now..."
The young man insists as he nearly trembles holding a thick manila folder in hand...
Unpleasantly surprised to hear his secretary's words, Doctor Young brushes his fingertips pressed to the temple of his head across his face and extends his arm, gesturing his associate to hand over the folder...
"It's the patient from our private section of our research sir, 'Patient X'. We continued to do as much evaluating and testing as we could, but the man is just an indestructible wall, sir."
The secretary mutters before adjusting his black reading glasses, as Doctor Young examines the folder's contents containing police records, mug shots, and interview files on Gravedigger’s recent encounters....
Doctor Young scans through a few more papers, before raising his eyes towards his secretary who clears his throat...
"Erm, we did receive word two of the three physicians and doctors we had assigned to do work and testing on the patient were all brutally and violently attacked by the patient himself, they were seriously injured..."
The young man hesitantly adds before handing crime scene photos of the doctors and physicians Digger executed during interviews.
"Two of our best veteran security orderlies are currently being hospitalized do to attacks on the patient's behalf as well, sir..."
The secretary nervously mutters before handing a photo of a bruised and bloodied security guard in a hospital bed to Doctor Young...
Glancing over the photographic evidence the doctor sighs in frustration under his breath, and slowly rests the folder and photos on his desk carefully before resting his hand against his lips... Contemplating a strategic option to resolve the matter. While no doubt Digger was as dangerous outside the ring as he was inside, a cold-blooded, heartless killing machine bent on unleashing his hatred on anyone or anything standing in his way and ending it's very own existence if necessary...
"Where is the patient now?"
"We've contacted FBI and CIA to help us track down and locate the patient so we can get him back into custody and continue our work, we're awaiting updates on their progress as we speak doctor..."
the secretary slides the doctor another page with a security camera photograph of Digger in a hooded jacket leaving a local gas station...
"We should have an update on his whereabouts within the next forty-eight hours."
The young man answers.
"My grandfather founded this institution so we could re-build medical research, so we could harness illnesses and disorders and transform them into something remarkable. My grandfather's only dream was to help jump-start evolution by doing what God himself could not. To cure cancers and sickness, and to transform them into a power unlike anything we could ever imagine... I never thought it could mean sacrificing innocent people and taming a savage-beast in a deranged criminal"
The doctor replies in his deep, raspy tone as he glances from the photographs to his associate.
"And that is exactly why we've come up with a quick solution doctor, something to clean up the mess and take care of our little... 'problem'..."
The secretary answers carefully before tossing a gray folder stamped "Classified" onto the doctor's desk which remains entitled...
"Project Titan Experimental Candidate: Gravedigger"
Doctor Young's eyes quickly move from the writing imprinted on the folder to his associate's who remains smiling from ear to ear with a look of serious intent, as the doctor gives a nod of approval while his secretary nods in response holding a phone to his ear.
"Begin Project Titan immediately."
"I've come back to take what's mine, and kick any motherfucker's ass standing in my way..."
The footage begins streaming and Digger comes into focus in a brightly lit hallway, white walls and floors all around as the camera pans backwards as Digger continues walking towards the screen. A black on black suit and tie cover his entire frame with his damp, hair gleaming from the overhead lights, glowing with rainbow lights like that of crow's feathers. Flowing against his shoulders like liquid, his white-out contact-filled eyes locked on the camera lenses. Their piercing gaze holding this fathomless-and full of strange lights which have a tendency to fill the universe.
"Justice Seven, what a better way to return to my home of New Edge Wrestling than the biggest Battle Royal on pay-per-view. The next better way is to be granted a NEW World Heavyweight championship title shot, in which I'm going to take a swing at this one and say was set-up for market-value. Now, I'll admit I was intrigued to find out who exactly I would be facing in this rumble..."
Digger pauses shaking his head and clears his throat while adjusting his tie.
"Austen Impact your career is simply going to crumble. Your dreaming days will be over and reality will sink in when you finally realize the truth, and the truth is that you are simply nothing more than a tiny goldfish swimming in an ocean of sharks. Right now, you're treading water kid, you're running out of breath, your arms are getting tired of holding that belt, and Digger smells blood in the water."
Smirks.
"Al Envy if you become Champion at Justice! You stand absolutely no chance squaring off against me inside that ring. I made a name in this business by running down pieces of shit talent like you and mopping you all over the canvas. Your gimmick is a joke, you can't roll your "R's" to save your life, and your ring skill compared to me is like watching Mike Tyson fighting a drunken version of Owen Wilson with down-syndrome. The bottom of my boot is gonna leave an imprint on your ass...."
"I'm a fucking freaking of nature and a force to be reckoned with, not trifled with... so if you think shots at my gimmick and my way of life are gonna help you win this-dear boy, you're ass is good as dead. Originality, ring presence, an intellect of in-ring skill, and a physique built to withstand pain are the only things that will get you far in this business. Judging by the looks of you and me, I'd say you don't match up to me in any way what so ever. Do I doubt you can hold your own and dominate in the ring-of course not, I'm sure you can put a boot to anyone's ass as much as the next guy. Understand this 'boy-o, I'm not like this group of average fucking mid-card and undercard whelps you've built your entire career on dominating week after week. I am Grave fucking Digger; I am the man whose name I'm sure you've heard buzzing around the locker room. I am the man who single-handedly fought his way through everyone last season faster than Britney Spears can spread her legs. Now where was I... ah right-I'm the man whose name you've heard stories about, but you wanna know what the only difference between my career and yours is kid? My stories are REAL..."
"This is MY career I built with THESE two hands, laying waste to disrespectful insects like you who don't know their place and need a good ass-kicking to the back of the line. You like so many of these new-blood nobodies who haven't yet paid their dues, who haven't made a name for themselves. I've shed blood, I've broken bones, I busted my ass, and I made a career out of carving people's faces in just like you. I'm not some cartoon-wanna-be super-hero; I'm not some carbon-copy of some movie character. Youtube my shit and see for yourself, so you know you're not dealing with some fuckin' marshmallow, little soft yellow punk pussy that's heart's jello. I END careers kid, but soon to come, I'm just gonna end your championship reign and kick your scrawny freaking ass. I'm gonna take that Championship in one hand, and bitch slap you so hard it'll straighten those crooked-ass yellow teeth of yours with the other."
"Y'See here bloke, I can call you bloke right? Whatever the fuck that means... there is no version of this where you come out on top over Austen or not. No outcome where you by ANY means walk away holding that championship gold. I'm about to heat things up in this company again rest assured, and I'm going to start by putting my boot to your throat and taking that championship from you like you can't do shit about it. That feeling is going to haunt you and follow you for the rest of your career, and it's going to burn so bad it's going to set your world around you on fire. Hell, who knows it might even just light up Glasgow Airport again?"
Digger shrugs with a callous smirk and then freezes, assuming it was an offensive insult.
"Oh, too soon...?"
He chuckles.
"For those of you who will be in the rumble, I'm going to be more than honored to kick your dyslexic asses up and down that ring and all over the fucking Target Field center. Hell we can take it out into Minneapolis for all I care, because quite simply there isn't a place on this god-forsaken shithole that any of you can beat me. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, and it's because of that I'm going be the number one contender for the NEW World heavyweight Championship. Sure I don't like the thought of coming back and being put into a rumble just to be HANDED a title match, but who is going to turn that down? There are so many people in this world, who would say otherwise, but greed is a real bitch... and anyone claiming to not feel tempted to take that offer is a god-damn liar. So call me unworthy, call me undeserving or claim that I am simply not ready and I will be more than pleased to LITERALLY make you choke on your words."
Digger grins briefly before glaring into the lense, brushing past the camera as the scene fades to black...
No more broken promises
Our shattered hearts will heal
No more broken promises
No more (no more)
Contest the lies
We cannot be so blind
Hear their cries (hear their cries)
Don't wait till daylight dies (daylight dies)
How long until it dies?
How long? (How long?)
How long?How long until it dies?
How long? How long?