Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2014 19:43:09 GMT -6
THE QUICK AND THE DEAD
Sand kicks up across the land, a gentle breeze flowing through the quiet town as the ever-cliche' tumbleweeds blew through the road, leaving me dead-center in the town as I looked on at those daring to wander the streets under the scorching hot sun of mid-day summer. Despite the heat and sand, however...it truly did seem like a peaceful place, even despite the fact that I knew what I was here for.
Nevertheless...it was peaceful, and I liked it. Just a shame that not too long from now the air'll be lit up with gunfire.
The name's Deadeye, and the fact that in every duel I've been in...I was always the first man to draw his gun. When things get bad...they call on me. I've killed many men with this here gun of mine...I'm not like your typical cowboy. I ain't here to save ya', I ain't here to break the law, to rob trains or to save the sheriff's wife.
I'm just here for the sake of it really. I'm a wanderer y'know, never stay in one place for too long. Always out and about, lookin' for somethin' to do. When death stares me in the eye I stare right back at it, I ain't never backed down yet. Hell, had I blinked it woulda been a bullet to the chest for me.
I've got enough scars on my arm to show the times where death almost out-lasted me in the starin' contest...a few nicks where a bullet grazed my face. I've cheated death more times then I can count on any of my fingers, let alone addin' in my toes.
I read the wanted poster, a straw of hay hangin' out of my mouth. I was wearing a black cowboy hat, worn rugged from all the places I'd been, the places it's seen alongside me and the dust and rocks that've worn the ol' thing away. This hat, however, was given to me by my dad 'fore I left from home, and I ain't stopped wearin' it sense. Amazin' it still fits me, I guess all the wear an'tear makes it stretch out easier for me.
On the poster was a black man, his name emblazened across the bottom as "YOUNGBLOOD". He was famous for his closed-eye shooting style, something I myself adapted long ago. It was better not to look at your opponent before you riddled'm with a bullet, atleast in my mind anyway.
I surveyed the area, I wasn't the only one dressed like this. My boots with spurs, faded and a bit torn up jeans...white shirt you can't even tell used to be white 'cause of the dust it had on it tucked into my pants with a brown leather vest over that.
I hadn't shaved in awhile, I had the whole rugged look goin' on...didn't really care much; to be honest.
I'm just a lone cowboy in a way...one guy lookin' out for number one, and fightin' death like it 'twas a game. Me an' the reaper are ol' friends ya' might say...my gun an' his scythe make quite the couple when we fight.
So why am I here, ya' might be wonderin'? For the challenge. For the thrill. I know this may be my last showdown, it may be my last sunrise and sunset...but hell, I've faced death and won so many times, maybe it's time the ol' boy got one up on me.
I've fought outlaws like this before, y'see...never really cared much for the guy I was up against. I just got out there and did what I had ta' do, no questions asked. There were a few times where I missed my mark, nailed the guy in the arm or the stomach...didn't kill'm right away but he fell. 'reckon that's lady luck for ya'...there were draws I've been in where I won but didn't kill.
Don't think I hesitated, I jus' misjudged my aim. Can't be perfect, y'know? No one gets their shot everytime. Though I'm sure whoever walks outta this here competition'll have all the braggin' rights in the world for bein' the quickest draw in the west.
I've faced indians, cowboys, outlaws, the law itself...and lemme tell ya' somethin', when you're fightin' for your life, the luck of the draw doesn't always help. How quick ya' can pull a gun from it's holster won't aid ya' when you're up against them indians with their arrows. It takes'm a few seconds to string up one and let it fly, and another for it to hit and it all be over.
Ya' gotta think fast...not just draw fast, y'know?
So I head on over to the bar, figure I might as well catch a few drinks 'for I go around town searchin' for the outlaw.
"Reckon' he probably knows I'm here by now.." I muttered to myself.
I pushed past the bar doors, lookin' around at everyone in the bar. Without sayin' a word, I strode over to the counter and sat, waitin' for the bartender to come around. I was a patient fellah', I could wait if I needed to.
Lord knows I've had to before.
Written In The Stars
A soft music sounds from a dimly lit kitchen in a generic apartment building, the music a genre unheard by radio stations...a genre which represents everyday life. The music starts off with the gentle flowing of water into a metallic sink, the impact of the water creating a soft-impact sound which cannot be duplicated by other objects or combinations. Following this warm introduction comes the clattering of dishes under the water, as skilled hands softly run a sponge across left-over food stuck to the surface of one of the glass plates. A few scrubs and the dish is clean, or atleast clean enough to be transfered from sink to dishwasher, where machine makes the burden of man easier once again.
Soon thereafter, the chorus of freely flowing water down the faucet begins, accompanied by the soft vocals of the dishes as they make their way carefully into the open-doored dishwasher. The door shuts just as the water slows to a trickle, and is replaced by the soft sigh of an angelic figure towering over the countertop which houses the sink and stops alongside the dishwasher. Her long brown hair falls just past her shoulderblades, and as she turns her attention to the dishwasher dial her eyes soften and her lips curve into a slight smile. The song grows silent as the gentle ticking of the dial sounds when she turns it, before picking up once more as the dishwasher kicks on and begins its work on that which is housed within it.
She takes hold of a nearby towel and gently wipes the moisture off her hands, before placing the towel back to its former resting place and tilting her head towards an open door, a door which leads to a room in which she sleeps every night, dreaming dreams of better times.
Her name is Shannyn Brown.
Another sigh escapes her lips as memories invade her mind, pushing aside short-term thoughts and allowing themselves to be displayed beneath her closed eyelids, bringing forth scenes that take her back to when the problems began in the middle of a world which seemed so perfect for her.
Life has a funny way of changing things around on people...and the person involved in her own change would know it best. For the past several months this particular person had been going through stressful times, though no-where near as stressful as the times he'd went through during his late teenaged years. However, this stress was directly linked to something from his childhood, a dream in which he'd had ever since then. It was also linked to a playful promise made to a girl he'd loved long ago, whom died the night the promise was made in a car accident that had left both in a coma, only to have him make it out alive.
Sometimes, Shannyn thought the love he held for that girl back then never quite went away. If this were indeed the case, however, she would understand why...and be able to accept it.
All he'd ever wanted to be was a hero...all he'd ever wanted to do was get the people to love him, to be able to give something to them and maybe even bring something new into their lives. For the longest time he'd felt he was doing just that, until one night brought upon thoughts of the people betraying him. Soon, the hero entered a bout of self-doubt and sadness--a sadness which was soon turned to anger and a thirst for vengeance on those who'd shattered the child's dream.
All thanks to one night which, at the time, seemed happy to the both of them...Shannyn Brown's life had changed alongside of a man whom she cared for deeply. It was an incident which had plagued the both of them to this very day and, in her eyes, was far from changing still.
For the place in which the incident had spawned was closed...the eWr was no more. A place which was considered home for the man she loved was no longer in business, and now that anger and vengeance has been replaced with a profound guilt over everything which had occured.
For David Dean Trenton...it felt as though the world around him had began to crumble.
The obnoxious voice of a used car salesman cut through Shannyn Brown's thoughts with a blade oddly shaped in the form of a Jaguar XXL, on sale for only $2,500 monthly for a year, the price brought down due to their special Summer Clearance Sale. Her eyes snapped open as she heard another voice sound from the room--David's. It was his annoyed mutterings towards the used car salesman, as he abruptley cut the salesman off in mid-sentence by changing the channel to the next one over, replacing the advertisement with a sports report on the current world of football.
Much like the movements of a machine, Shannyn's legs slowly stretch and begin a slow move towards the room. Soon, her stride takes the more 'human-esque' form of a tired stagger, straying away from the robotic form they'd held before. Passing through the doorframe, Shannyn reaches her hand over to gently flick her finger across the ON-OFF switch, the lights in the apartment shutting off and leaving everything in darkness, the only source of light coming from the television in the room.
David moves his head softly in her direction, giving her a small smile which she returns with one of her own, followed by a yawn that gently floats through the room and in David's general direction. The seconds following this action capture the struggle to withhold a yawn of his own, only to fail miserably. A giggle escapes Shannyn's lips as she moves towards the bed and takes hold of the covers, pulling them back and slipping under them alongside of David. David rolls over and draws Shannyn close to him, hugging her gently and sighing.
"Don't worry...I'll make the most of this opportunity. I'm not about to let another chance slip through my...--"
"It's not that, David."
This brief exchange of conversation between the two is halted quickly, as Shannyn stares deeply into my eyes and sadly lowers her gaze from them, speaking in a hushed voice which seems to come naturally to her during the late hours of the night.
"I..I miss you when your gone. I don't care whether or not we have the money coming in from wrestling so long as we're still able to live comfortably together. You are paid well enough from NEW, and your were smart to keep all of the money saved and only rent this apartment long enough for you to look for that house we talked about. I understand you still have things you want to accomplish...you're not ready to settle down and retire, I understand David. I understand, okay?"
A silence ensues as she brings her gaze back up to meet his eyes where they were before, only to notice that his head is now turned away, his gaze staring blankly at the sheets beneath them. Moments pass without words before David finally musters up the will to reply, and his reply comes short, but sweet.
"...okay."
On the inside, Shannyn is slightly relieved...and on the outside it shows through with a soft smile that David lifts his head back up to see, causing him to smile once again as well. She leans forward and places a soft kiss on his lips, staring into his eyes as she tiredly whispers to him.
"Goodnight, David...I hope you reach your dreams at Ignite... sweet dreams."
"Thank you my love. Goodnight, Shannyn. I love you."
"Love you too..."
The silence soon returns, and Shannyn soon finds herself in her own peaceful dreamworld. Her world is that of past memories, her world is that of better times. David Dean Trenton's world, however, is much different...and he soon will find himself confronting something he'd never thought he'd have to. However, after all of the events in the past that have led up to now, and after all of the trials D.D.T has put himself through, it's about time that it finally happened.
Chances don't come all too often; D.D.T is one to know this, and if he truly wishes to accomplish his boyhood dream of becoming a champion...it's high time for him to reach out and touch faith.
Ignite 189 WILL be that time.
Can you feel it?
Sand kicks up across the land, a gentle breeze flowing through the quiet town as the ever-cliche' tumbleweeds blew through the road, leaving me dead-center in the town as I looked on at those daring to wander the streets under the scorching hot sun of mid-day summer. Despite the heat and sand, however...it truly did seem like a peaceful place, even despite the fact that I knew what I was here for.
Nevertheless...it was peaceful, and I liked it. Just a shame that not too long from now the air'll be lit up with gunfire.
The name's Deadeye, and the fact that in every duel I've been in...I was always the first man to draw his gun. When things get bad...they call on me. I've killed many men with this here gun of mine...I'm not like your typical cowboy. I ain't here to save ya', I ain't here to break the law, to rob trains or to save the sheriff's wife.
I'm just here for the sake of it really. I'm a wanderer y'know, never stay in one place for too long. Always out and about, lookin' for somethin' to do. When death stares me in the eye I stare right back at it, I ain't never backed down yet. Hell, had I blinked it woulda been a bullet to the chest for me.
I've got enough scars on my arm to show the times where death almost out-lasted me in the starin' contest...a few nicks where a bullet grazed my face. I've cheated death more times then I can count on any of my fingers, let alone addin' in my toes.
I read the wanted poster, a straw of hay hangin' out of my mouth. I was wearing a black cowboy hat, worn rugged from all the places I'd been, the places it's seen alongside me and the dust and rocks that've worn the ol' thing away. This hat, however, was given to me by my dad 'fore I left from home, and I ain't stopped wearin' it sense. Amazin' it still fits me, I guess all the wear an'tear makes it stretch out easier for me.
On the poster was a black man, his name emblazened across the bottom as "YOUNGBLOOD". He was famous for his closed-eye shooting style, something I myself adapted long ago. It was better not to look at your opponent before you riddled'm with a bullet, atleast in my mind anyway.
I surveyed the area, I wasn't the only one dressed like this. My boots with spurs, faded and a bit torn up jeans...white shirt you can't even tell used to be white 'cause of the dust it had on it tucked into my pants with a brown leather vest over that.
I hadn't shaved in awhile, I had the whole rugged look goin' on...didn't really care much; to be honest.
I'm just a lone cowboy in a way...one guy lookin' out for number one, and fightin' death like it 'twas a game. Me an' the reaper are ol' friends ya' might say...my gun an' his scythe make quite the couple when we fight.
So why am I here, ya' might be wonderin'? For the challenge. For the thrill. I know this may be my last showdown, it may be my last sunrise and sunset...but hell, I've faced death and won so many times, maybe it's time the ol' boy got one up on me.
I've fought outlaws like this before, y'see...never really cared much for the guy I was up against. I just got out there and did what I had ta' do, no questions asked. There were a few times where I missed my mark, nailed the guy in the arm or the stomach...didn't kill'm right away but he fell. 'reckon that's lady luck for ya'...there were draws I've been in where I won but didn't kill.
Don't think I hesitated, I jus' misjudged my aim. Can't be perfect, y'know? No one gets their shot everytime. Though I'm sure whoever walks outta this here competition'll have all the braggin' rights in the world for bein' the quickest draw in the west.
I've faced indians, cowboys, outlaws, the law itself...and lemme tell ya' somethin', when you're fightin' for your life, the luck of the draw doesn't always help. How quick ya' can pull a gun from it's holster won't aid ya' when you're up against them indians with their arrows. It takes'm a few seconds to string up one and let it fly, and another for it to hit and it all be over.
Ya' gotta think fast...not just draw fast, y'know?
So I head on over to the bar, figure I might as well catch a few drinks 'for I go around town searchin' for the outlaw.
"Reckon' he probably knows I'm here by now.." I muttered to myself.
I pushed past the bar doors, lookin' around at everyone in the bar. Without sayin' a word, I strode over to the counter and sat, waitin' for the bartender to come around. I was a patient fellah', I could wait if I needed to.
Lord knows I've had to before.
Written In The Stars
A soft music sounds from a dimly lit kitchen in a generic apartment building, the music a genre unheard by radio stations...a genre which represents everyday life. The music starts off with the gentle flowing of water into a metallic sink, the impact of the water creating a soft-impact sound which cannot be duplicated by other objects or combinations. Following this warm introduction comes the clattering of dishes under the water, as skilled hands softly run a sponge across left-over food stuck to the surface of one of the glass plates. A few scrubs and the dish is clean, or atleast clean enough to be transfered from sink to dishwasher, where machine makes the burden of man easier once again.
Soon thereafter, the chorus of freely flowing water down the faucet begins, accompanied by the soft vocals of the dishes as they make their way carefully into the open-doored dishwasher. The door shuts just as the water slows to a trickle, and is replaced by the soft sigh of an angelic figure towering over the countertop which houses the sink and stops alongside the dishwasher. Her long brown hair falls just past her shoulderblades, and as she turns her attention to the dishwasher dial her eyes soften and her lips curve into a slight smile. The song grows silent as the gentle ticking of the dial sounds when she turns it, before picking up once more as the dishwasher kicks on and begins its work on that which is housed within it.
She takes hold of a nearby towel and gently wipes the moisture off her hands, before placing the towel back to its former resting place and tilting her head towards an open door, a door which leads to a room in which she sleeps every night, dreaming dreams of better times.
Her name is Shannyn Brown.
Another sigh escapes her lips as memories invade her mind, pushing aside short-term thoughts and allowing themselves to be displayed beneath her closed eyelids, bringing forth scenes that take her back to when the problems began in the middle of a world which seemed so perfect for her.
Life has a funny way of changing things around on people...and the person involved in her own change would know it best. For the past several months this particular person had been going through stressful times, though no-where near as stressful as the times he'd went through during his late teenaged years. However, this stress was directly linked to something from his childhood, a dream in which he'd had ever since then. It was also linked to a playful promise made to a girl he'd loved long ago, whom died the night the promise was made in a car accident that had left both in a coma, only to have him make it out alive.
Sometimes, Shannyn thought the love he held for that girl back then never quite went away. If this were indeed the case, however, she would understand why...and be able to accept it.
All he'd ever wanted to be was a hero...all he'd ever wanted to do was get the people to love him, to be able to give something to them and maybe even bring something new into their lives. For the longest time he'd felt he was doing just that, until one night brought upon thoughts of the people betraying him. Soon, the hero entered a bout of self-doubt and sadness--a sadness which was soon turned to anger and a thirst for vengeance on those who'd shattered the child's dream.
All thanks to one night which, at the time, seemed happy to the both of them...Shannyn Brown's life had changed alongside of a man whom she cared for deeply. It was an incident which had plagued the both of them to this very day and, in her eyes, was far from changing still.
For the place in which the incident had spawned was closed...the eWr was no more. A place which was considered home for the man she loved was no longer in business, and now that anger and vengeance has been replaced with a profound guilt over everything which had occured.
For David Dean Trenton...it felt as though the world around him had began to crumble.
The obnoxious voice of a used car salesman cut through Shannyn Brown's thoughts with a blade oddly shaped in the form of a Jaguar XXL, on sale for only $2,500 monthly for a year, the price brought down due to their special Summer Clearance Sale. Her eyes snapped open as she heard another voice sound from the room--David's. It was his annoyed mutterings towards the used car salesman, as he abruptley cut the salesman off in mid-sentence by changing the channel to the next one over, replacing the advertisement with a sports report on the current world of football.
Much like the movements of a machine, Shannyn's legs slowly stretch and begin a slow move towards the room. Soon, her stride takes the more 'human-esque' form of a tired stagger, straying away from the robotic form they'd held before. Passing through the doorframe, Shannyn reaches her hand over to gently flick her finger across the ON-OFF switch, the lights in the apartment shutting off and leaving everything in darkness, the only source of light coming from the television in the room.
David moves his head softly in her direction, giving her a small smile which she returns with one of her own, followed by a yawn that gently floats through the room and in David's general direction. The seconds following this action capture the struggle to withhold a yawn of his own, only to fail miserably. A giggle escapes Shannyn's lips as she moves towards the bed and takes hold of the covers, pulling them back and slipping under them alongside of David. David rolls over and draws Shannyn close to him, hugging her gently and sighing.
"Don't worry...I'll make the most of this opportunity. I'm not about to let another chance slip through my...--"
"It's not that, David."
This brief exchange of conversation between the two is halted quickly, as Shannyn stares deeply into my eyes and sadly lowers her gaze from them, speaking in a hushed voice which seems to come naturally to her during the late hours of the night.
"I..I miss you when your gone. I don't care whether or not we have the money coming in from wrestling so long as we're still able to live comfortably together. You are paid well enough from NEW, and your were smart to keep all of the money saved and only rent this apartment long enough for you to look for that house we talked about. I understand you still have things you want to accomplish...you're not ready to settle down and retire, I understand David. I understand, okay?"
A silence ensues as she brings her gaze back up to meet his eyes where they were before, only to notice that his head is now turned away, his gaze staring blankly at the sheets beneath them. Moments pass without words before David finally musters up the will to reply, and his reply comes short, but sweet.
"...okay."
On the inside, Shannyn is slightly relieved...and on the outside it shows through with a soft smile that David lifts his head back up to see, causing him to smile once again as well. She leans forward and places a soft kiss on his lips, staring into his eyes as she tiredly whispers to him.
"Goodnight, David...I hope you reach your dreams at Ignite... sweet dreams."
"Thank you my love. Goodnight, Shannyn. I love you."
"Love you too..."
The silence soon returns, and Shannyn soon finds herself in her own peaceful dreamworld. Her world is that of past memories, her world is that of better times. David Dean Trenton's world, however, is much different...and he soon will find himself confronting something he'd never thought he'd have to. However, after all of the events in the past that have led up to now, and after all of the trials D.D.T has put himself through, it's about time that it finally happened.
Chances don't come all too often; D.D.T is one to know this, and if he truly wishes to accomplish his boyhood dream of becoming a champion...it's high time for him to reach out and touch faith.
Ignite 189 WILL be that time.
Can you feel it?