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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2017 17:35:06 GMT -5
4.4 // IT LEADS ME TO A NEW DISEASE •••••
♫: “New Disease” - Spineshank July 23rd, 2017 Dillon, Colorado -- 2:57 AM.
”Stop! Finn, please stop it!”
Samantha’s pleas for him relent fell on deaf ears. The match'd gone on too long and Reece’s endurance brought Finn’s ire to the surface. All he could envision was seeing his own knuckles bloodied by Crosslin’s split open head -- maybe then the fucker would just lay down and let himself be fucking pinned.
“Stop!” Referee AJ Cross screamed, but that did little more than Sam’s tear-filled cries.
He saw that nose-banded asshole heading towards the ring, circling the apron like a vulture to his prey. But he couldn’t stop. Reece’s sweaty-ass hair slipped through his fingers and he clenched tighter, bringing another fist to his head.
Then Sam was falling. The plasterboard “wood” cracked. A collective gasp fell across the Complex.
Everything was a blur. Climbing out of the ring, trying to see the damage, see if he could help. Crosslin screaming at him. Chaos. Confusion. His eyes caught Kei again, slinking away to the back. He looked back to Samantha, lying in the shards of that table. But he didn’t see her. His vision flickered, and it wasn’t Sam anymore.
It was Aaron.
Sweat trickled down Finn’s forehead as he shot up, eyes wide and his breaths heavy. He glanced around the room, trying to get his bearings. He wasn’t in the Complex. He wasn’t at Asylum right now. Aaron wasn’t the one in that table. She laid, sound asleep, next to him, her Yoshis on her shoulder blades rising and falling with her breath. The large bruise on her forehead looked deathly in the dim light. But she was here: safe.
He swung his legs out of the bed and headed for the door, down the steps and into the large kitchen, grabbing one of the many cans of Aaron’s only addiction in Mountain Dew and pouring it into a glass. He leaned on the counter, staring his own reflection at the black granite surface.
What happened to your morals?!
Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. He’d gone over and over it in his head, trying to deduce how he could believe it was his fault. Because of this, his image was tarnished. He wasn’t Finn Whelan, the saint, the good guy, the respectable person, the one that anyone could rely on. He was now Finn Whelan, the dude you wouldn’t want to leave your cats with because they’d come back on spickets with teriyaki sauce drizzled all over them.
“Fuck . . .” He clenched his fingers into the granite, his nose flaring. He pushed himself off of the counter, snatching the glass up with his fingers and clenching his teeth. He moved into the next room, where a bar was installed on the opposite side of the floor-length windows. From here, he could see the beauty of the mountains that rose on the other side of the hill. He could see the lake, the rolling trees. This had been his favorite spot in the house.
But now, that was fucked up by Aaron being left for fucking dead in those hills.
One day you may realize you don’t like who you’ve become.
“FUCK!” He screamed, and suddenly, his glass was flying out of his hands and shattering as it hit the wall. The Dew stained the wall as it flowed down, but that was nothing to the thousands of dark stains that would destroy the hardwood floors as Finn took his hands and swiped them across the top of the bar, sending various alcohol bottles across the room and making a crash echo loudly through the house. His hand flew to a granite cat figurine, and he chucked it at the floor-length window behind him, instantly shattering it into a sparkly waterfall.
“Finn?!” Aaron yelled, rushing down to the chaos, only to find him sitting against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest and his hand clenched in his hair as he stared at nothing. With a sympathetic expression, she shook her head slightly, and walked to him, sliding down the wall and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
There were no words she could say that would pull him from whatever bullshit he’d put his mind through.
••••• VOICEMAIL // ELENA DEDRACA’S PHONE, TAGGED 5:15 AM. EST.
I’ve fucked up.
Samantha falling through that table was my fault. Reece has every fucking reason to hate me for what I’ve done. While my hands weren’t the ones that brought her crashing into that table, I was the reason she ended there. I don't deserve an apology. But I know how to rectify it.
The Ultraviolent Championship.
I know that sounds ridiculous and completely stupid, but hear me out. I’m going into this TLC Match as the underdog. This match is made for Crosslin. He’s a two-time Ultraviolent Champion, he’s a King of California winner. Crosslin breathes the very air that is So-Cal. But he’s met his match, El. He’s met his match. He’s faster than me. He’s more agility driven than me. He’s good at snapping bodies in half. But with everything else? He either meets or fails miserably.
I know how to use that environment to my ability. I've proven that. I’m not a heavyweight contender and my fists don't do as much damage, but I have the usage of any weapon in the Complex. The ladders have to hit with impact, being dropped through the table has to matter. Chairs need to be aimed directly for his head. I may not be able to match his speed, but I can certainly match his head to metal. I don’t have to meet him in the air. I can catch him with DDT into a table. Or four.
When he’s down and out, I’ll climb and grab that championship. It’ll be mine. Through it, I can redeem who I am, who I was. Who I claim to be. Kei was right. I can’t succeed in this sport unless I give up a piece of who I am. But the piece I’m removing isn’t my morals, my righteousness. It’s the piece that’s holding me back from inflicting as much damage as possible. Once I have that championship, I will kill Kei Hideshima. I will destroy and bury him for the things he’s done to my family.
Respect is earned. I’ve done my dues. I'm coming to So-Cal World War not to just win a championship, but to right the wrongs made to Crosslin. Not just to prove my worth, but to earn what I've been fighting for since day one. This is it, Elena. It's not main event, but it's going to be the one that steals the show. Crosslin and I are going to burn the roof down like we should have before.
I can fix this.
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