Post by soulshadow on Sept 15, 2013 13:20:17 GMT -5
September 8, Denver, minutes after Wreckage went off the air
{Soul Shadow, broken from the beating received at the hands of the Damned, has been strapped to a stretcher by several EMTs. After making sure he is tightly secured, they lift the board and lock the wheels into position. The crowd starts chanting Soul’s name as the medics begin to take him into the back. Unfortunately, the MPW wrestler is unable to respond, buried deep in oblivion. Finally, he is rolled through the backstage curtain. The encouraging cheers of the fans do not lessen as the scene fades out.}
September 10, Denver Health Medical Center
Doctor: Mr. Johnson, I really must protest this. You are not in any shape to be leaving. And certainly you aren’t going be ready to wrestle any time soon.
{In a private patient room, Soul Shadow is getting dressed. He slides his shirt over his taped ribs, wincing from the pain. A large bandage is wrapped around his cranium, holding pads in place in the front and the back. Despite obviously being in a world of hurt, he smiles at the doctor.}
Soul: I appreciate your position, doctor. But I know how to handle myself. Plus, Boston is world-renown for its top-notch medical facilities. If any problems arise, I’ll have instant access to some of the finest health care professionals in the world.
Doctor: Still, Mr. Johnson, we’d like to keep you under observation for at least one more night. Your injuries…
{Soul holds up his hand, cutting off the doctor.}
Soul: As I just said, I appreciate your position. However… and you can correct me if I am wrong… but you have no legal standing to hold me here, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to head home.
Doctor (sighing): I’ll get the paperwork ready.
{Exasperated, the doctor exits the room. Standing just outside the entrance is Soul Shadow’s niece Shakira, typing a text on her cell. The doctor pauses next to her. The angle of camera allows it to catch the name “Aeryn” at the top of chat window, but no more.}
Doctor: See if you can talk some sense into him.
{Shaking his head, the doctor walks down the hall. Shakira simply stares at his back.}
Shakira: Why don’t you ask me to part the Red Sea while you’re at it?
{With a sigh, Shakira slides her phone into her pocket as she enters the room. Soul is collecting his various personal belongings from the dresser. Shakira watches him silently, then loudly clears her throat. Soul’s head whips in her direction, drawn by the sound. Unfortunately, the sudden movement causes the wrestler to become light-headed. He swoons slightly, nearly falling back onto the bed. Shakira rushes forward and catches him, managing to provide support until the wave of dizziness passes.}
Shakira: So, you’re well enough to leave the hospital, huh?
{Soul eases himself onto the bed. He stares at his niece, who strikes a defiant pose. Eventually, his eyes shift to the window.}
Soul: Oh, shut the fuck up.
{Shakira cracks him sharply on the elbow, sending waves of pain through his arm. Soul bites his lower lip to keep from crying out from the agony. His niece simply shakes her head in mock disgust, as a wicked smile creeps onto her face. Soul eyes her with angry curiosity.}
Soul (testily): What?
Shakira (with a little giggle): Oh, I was just thinking you looked so much like Hunter, back when he was five and took a few tumbles on the soccer field. You know, right before he would start to cry?
{Soul lunges at her from the bed, but she nimbly dodges. The wrestler leans back on the bed, wincing from the aches throughout his wounded body. Watching him, Shakira’s serious demeanor returns.}
Shakira: Seriously, though, you are in no shape to go anywhere, Uncle.
Soul: I’ll be fine, Shakira. I just need to get back to Boston for some rest before heading out to the Wyoming show.
Shakira: You think that is a good idea? You are in pretty rough shape after what happened on Sunday.
Soul: This? Please. I’ve taken worse before and been able to wrestle shows the following day, nevermind a week later.
Shakira: Yeah, but that was when you were my age. You’re now a decade older. Every single athlete in the world, no matter the sport, will tell you the body takes longer to heal at 36 than it does at 26.
Soul: So I’ll be a little bruised when I go into the ring on Sunday…
Shakira: A LITTLE bruised? The Damned almost KILLED you at the end of the Reloaded! They took full advantage of having you trapped in a cage and almost ended your comeback before it really got started!
{Soul lightly touches the bandage on his head.}
Soul (softly): I know, Shakira. I was there.
Shakira: And despite your injuries, you are still intending to go to Wyoming despite nothing being on the line during this match! Why in God’s name would you even think of that? Didn’t you call out Taufik for essentially doing the same thing in your six-man tag match against him?
Soul: That was different…
Shakira: How? You told him the TV Title match at High Stakes was his bigger worry. At the pay-per-view, you are in the Roll the Dice match! How can you possibly justify teaming with Radke to face Impaler and Cable when you are injured like you are…
Soul (angrily): BECAUSE IT WASN’T PERSONAL BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM!!!!
{Shakira takes a step back, stunned by the anger in her uncle’s voice. His eyes, alight with flame, almost seem to sear into her very core. He doesn’t apologize for his intensity, however.}
Soul: Jason X may have tried to take out Taufik’s leg at Gold Rush, but that was a petty act by a petty man. And their interactions since then have been governed solely by the Television title. Without that on the line, I highly doubt either of them would give even one tiny shit about the other.
{Soul gently touches his injured ribs.}
Soul: What the Damned did to me on Sunday had very little to do with the Roll the Dice match. If it did, they would have come after both Aeryn and Cable earlier in the night. Instead, Crow, Impaler, Samuel, and Clay deliberately targeted me. They delayed everyone, including the Resistance, from coming to my aid so they could deliver a message. All because of Crow’s increasingly perverted fascination with me. His… insistence we are one and the same when we couldn’t be more fucking different.
{His equilibrium returned, Soul gingerly lifts himself from the bed.}
Soul: Crow and his fucking minions want me to roll over and give up, admitting his way is the best. Well, mark my words, Shakira, no fucking way is that going to happen. I ain’t ever… EVER… going to see eye to eye with that asshole. As long as there is breath in my body, I’m going to fight tooth and nail against his views and way of life.
{He walks over to where his niece stands. Towering over her by nearly a foot, he looks down into her eyes.}
Soul: Sunday in Casper, I’m scheduled to go against one of his teammates, the Impaler, whom I will also be facing in the Roll the Dice match. I’m sure Impaler would love nothing more than to finish me off, impressing his friends as well as eliminating me from High Stakes. He’s being looking to make his mark since debuting. I bet he feels fighting me in my weakened state will be his chance of a lifetime.
{Shakira stands silent, letting her uncle have his say.}
Soul: I wonder if Impaler has ever heard when an animal is wounded, it is at its most dangerous? If not, he’s going to learn at Reloaded. My body may be hurting, but my spirit couldn’t be more pissed off. That anger, that rage… that FUCKING FURY… will sustain me more than enough to return to Impaler every single ounce of pain he and his bastard friends gave me. And then I intend to give even more to share with his buddies once they cart his carcass to the back.
{Shakira, who has not backed down despite Soul’s intimidating stature, looks boldly at him.}
Shakira: And what about the two Chris’s? You can’t forget about them. Cable will be gunning for you just as much as Impaler is. And Radke, even though he is your partner, would benefit by you being unable to make the Roll the Dice match.
{Soul takes a step back from his niece.}
Soul: I’m not worried about Radke betraying me. Despite our only two prior meetings having been on opposite sides of the ring, he strikes me as a stand-up guy. He wouldn’t turn on his partner. Plus, he needs the win badly. He hasn’t had any success since joining the federation, probably because he apparently hasn’t completely adjusted to the increased level of competition compared to his previous feds. But he has a ton of talent. It will be only a matter of time.
{Soul turns, walking back to the dresser to finish gathering his things.}
Soul: As for Cable, he is definitely a dangerous opponent. He’s a former MPW Tag Team Champion as well as the man who retired the X-Core belt. He will be formidable foe at High Stakes. But for this match, he is nothing more than a traffic cone... an obstacle in my path to Impaler. He’d be best served to tag out every time he finds himself in the ring with me. Heaven help him if he doesn’t because I don’t necessarily need him to be conscious when I force his hand to tag in Impaler.
{Shakira’s eyes grow wide at Soul’s bold statement, though he does not notice as his back is to her at the time. He finally finishes gathering his belongings and turns to her.}
Soul: Now let’s get going. I want to be back in Boston by tonight. As I told the doctor earlier, I can get physical care there just as easily as I can here. Plus, I have a few things I need to take care of before heading to Wyoming.
Shakira: I still wish you would just call Bob and tell him you need the week off...
Soul: I don’t need it and I don’t want it. Trust me, I’ll be okay come Sunday. Save your worry for the poor bastards who have to face me in the ring.
{With that, Soul walks outside the door, steadily if a little slowly. With a heavy sigh, Shakira follows her uncle into the hallway as the scene fades.}
September 12
{A light is activated, illuminating a rather large bathroom. A digital clock situated on the counter top shows the time to be 3:00. From the darkness outside of the lone window, it would appear to be A.M. rather than P.M.}
{Soul Shadow enters the room, dressed in blue pajamas. He looks tired, as if sleep has not been restful or perhaps even not coming. Grimacing, he lifts his shirt. On his upper abdomen, right by his lower ribcage, is a rather large bruise. It is not fresh, even a bit faded. Still, the ugly purple welt does not look pleasant. Soul examines it in the mirror for several minutes, then lowers his top.}
{Turning to the bathroom door, Soul pulls a cellphone out of a breast pocket. Pressing a few buttons, he brings the name “Aeryn” onto the screen. His finger pauses about the call button. He stares at the phone for an eerily long time, before unleashing a long sigh. Instead of activating the call, he clears the screen while flicking off the light, returning the entire scene to darkness.}
{Soul Shadow, broken from the beating received at the hands of the Damned, has been strapped to a stretcher by several EMTs. After making sure he is tightly secured, they lift the board and lock the wheels into position. The crowd starts chanting Soul’s name as the medics begin to take him into the back. Unfortunately, the MPW wrestler is unable to respond, buried deep in oblivion. Finally, he is rolled through the backstage curtain. The encouraging cheers of the fans do not lessen as the scene fades out.}
September 10, Denver Health Medical Center
Doctor: Mr. Johnson, I really must protest this. You are not in any shape to be leaving. And certainly you aren’t going be ready to wrestle any time soon.
{In a private patient room, Soul Shadow is getting dressed. He slides his shirt over his taped ribs, wincing from the pain. A large bandage is wrapped around his cranium, holding pads in place in the front and the back. Despite obviously being in a world of hurt, he smiles at the doctor.}
Soul: I appreciate your position, doctor. But I know how to handle myself. Plus, Boston is world-renown for its top-notch medical facilities. If any problems arise, I’ll have instant access to some of the finest health care professionals in the world.
Doctor: Still, Mr. Johnson, we’d like to keep you under observation for at least one more night. Your injuries…
{Soul holds up his hand, cutting off the doctor.}
Soul: As I just said, I appreciate your position. However… and you can correct me if I am wrong… but you have no legal standing to hold me here, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to head home.
Doctor (sighing): I’ll get the paperwork ready.
{Exasperated, the doctor exits the room. Standing just outside the entrance is Soul Shadow’s niece Shakira, typing a text on her cell. The doctor pauses next to her. The angle of camera allows it to catch the name “Aeryn” at the top of chat window, but no more.}
Doctor: See if you can talk some sense into him.
{Shaking his head, the doctor walks down the hall. Shakira simply stares at his back.}
Shakira: Why don’t you ask me to part the Red Sea while you’re at it?
{With a sigh, Shakira slides her phone into her pocket as she enters the room. Soul is collecting his various personal belongings from the dresser. Shakira watches him silently, then loudly clears her throat. Soul’s head whips in her direction, drawn by the sound. Unfortunately, the sudden movement causes the wrestler to become light-headed. He swoons slightly, nearly falling back onto the bed. Shakira rushes forward and catches him, managing to provide support until the wave of dizziness passes.}
Shakira: So, you’re well enough to leave the hospital, huh?
{Soul eases himself onto the bed. He stares at his niece, who strikes a defiant pose. Eventually, his eyes shift to the window.}
Soul: Oh, shut the fuck up.
{Shakira cracks him sharply on the elbow, sending waves of pain through his arm. Soul bites his lower lip to keep from crying out from the agony. His niece simply shakes her head in mock disgust, as a wicked smile creeps onto her face. Soul eyes her with angry curiosity.}
Soul (testily): What?
Shakira (with a little giggle): Oh, I was just thinking you looked so much like Hunter, back when he was five and took a few tumbles on the soccer field. You know, right before he would start to cry?
{Soul lunges at her from the bed, but she nimbly dodges. The wrestler leans back on the bed, wincing from the aches throughout his wounded body. Watching him, Shakira’s serious demeanor returns.}
Shakira: Seriously, though, you are in no shape to go anywhere, Uncle.
Soul: I’ll be fine, Shakira. I just need to get back to Boston for some rest before heading out to the Wyoming show.
Shakira: You think that is a good idea? You are in pretty rough shape after what happened on Sunday.
Soul: This? Please. I’ve taken worse before and been able to wrestle shows the following day, nevermind a week later.
Shakira: Yeah, but that was when you were my age. You’re now a decade older. Every single athlete in the world, no matter the sport, will tell you the body takes longer to heal at 36 than it does at 26.
Soul: So I’ll be a little bruised when I go into the ring on Sunday…
Shakira: A LITTLE bruised? The Damned almost KILLED you at the end of the Reloaded! They took full advantage of having you trapped in a cage and almost ended your comeback before it really got started!
{Soul lightly touches the bandage on his head.}
Soul (softly): I know, Shakira. I was there.
Shakira: And despite your injuries, you are still intending to go to Wyoming despite nothing being on the line during this match! Why in God’s name would you even think of that? Didn’t you call out Taufik for essentially doing the same thing in your six-man tag match against him?
Soul: That was different…
Shakira: How? You told him the TV Title match at High Stakes was his bigger worry. At the pay-per-view, you are in the Roll the Dice match! How can you possibly justify teaming with Radke to face Impaler and Cable when you are injured like you are…
Soul (angrily): BECAUSE IT WASN’T PERSONAL BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM!!!!
{Shakira takes a step back, stunned by the anger in her uncle’s voice. His eyes, alight with flame, almost seem to sear into her very core. He doesn’t apologize for his intensity, however.}
Soul: Jason X may have tried to take out Taufik’s leg at Gold Rush, but that was a petty act by a petty man. And their interactions since then have been governed solely by the Television title. Without that on the line, I highly doubt either of them would give even one tiny shit about the other.
{Soul gently touches his injured ribs.}
Soul: What the Damned did to me on Sunday had very little to do with the Roll the Dice match. If it did, they would have come after both Aeryn and Cable earlier in the night. Instead, Crow, Impaler, Samuel, and Clay deliberately targeted me. They delayed everyone, including the Resistance, from coming to my aid so they could deliver a message. All because of Crow’s increasingly perverted fascination with me. His… insistence we are one and the same when we couldn’t be more fucking different.
{His equilibrium returned, Soul gingerly lifts himself from the bed.}
Soul: Crow and his fucking minions want me to roll over and give up, admitting his way is the best. Well, mark my words, Shakira, no fucking way is that going to happen. I ain’t ever… EVER… going to see eye to eye with that asshole. As long as there is breath in my body, I’m going to fight tooth and nail against his views and way of life.
{He walks over to where his niece stands. Towering over her by nearly a foot, he looks down into her eyes.}
Soul: Sunday in Casper, I’m scheduled to go against one of his teammates, the Impaler, whom I will also be facing in the Roll the Dice match. I’m sure Impaler would love nothing more than to finish me off, impressing his friends as well as eliminating me from High Stakes. He’s being looking to make his mark since debuting. I bet he feels fighting me in my weakened state will be his chance of a lifetime.
{Shakira stands silent, letting her uncle have his say.}
Soul: I wonder if Impaler has ever heard when an animal is wounded, it is at its most dangerous? If not, he’s going to learn at Reloaded. My body may be hurting, but my spirit couldn’t be more pissed off. That anger, that rage… that FUCKING FURY… will sustain me more than enough to return to Impaler every single ounce of pain he and his bastard friends gave me. And then I intend to give even more to share with his buddies once they cart his carcass to the back.
{Shakira, who has not backed down despite Soul’s intimidating stature, looks boldly at him.}
Shakira: And what about the two Chris’s? You can’t forget about them. Cable will be gunning for you just as much as Impaler is. And Radke, even though he is your partner, would benefit by you being unable to make the Roll the Dice match.
{Soul takes a step back from his niece.}
Soul: I’m not worried about Radke betraying me. Despite our only two prior meetings having been on opposite sides of the ring, he strikes me as a stand-up guy. He wouldn’t turn on his partner. Plus, he needs the win badly. He hasn’t had any success since joining the federation, probably because he apparently hasn’t completely adjusted to the increased level of competition compared to his previous feds. But he has a ton of talent. It will be only a matter of time.
{Soul turns, walking back to the dresser to finish gathering his things.}
Soul: As for Cable, he is definitely a dangerous opponent. He’s a former MPW Tag Team Champion as well as the man who retired the X-Core belt. He will be formidable foe at High Stakes. But for this match, he is nothing more than a traffic cone... an obstacle in my path to Impaler. He’d be best served to tag out every time he finds himself in the ring with me. Heaven help him if he doesn’t because I don’t necessarily need him to be conscious when I force his hand to tag in Impaler.
{Shakira’s eyes grow wide at Soul’s bold statement, though he does not notice as his back is to her at the time. He finally finishes gathering his belongings and turns to her.}
Soul: Now let’s get going. I want to be back in Boston by tonight. As I told the doctor earlier, I can get physical care there just as easily as I can here. Plus, I have a few things I need to take care of before heading to Wyoming.
Shakira: I still wish you would just call Bob and tell him you need the week off...
Soul: I don’t need it and I don’t want it. Trust me, I’ll be okay come Sunday. Save your worry for the poor bastards who have to face me in the ring.
{With that, Soul walks outside the door, steadily if a little slowly. With a heavy sigh, Shakira follows her uncle into the hallway as the scene fades.}
September 12
{A light is activated, illuminating a rather large bathroom. A digital clock situated on the counter top shows the time to be 3:00. From the darkness outside of the lone window, it would appear to be A.M. rather than P.M.}
{Soul Shadow enters the room, dressed in blue pajamas. He looks tired, as if sleep has not been restful or perhaps even not coming. Grimacing, he lifts his shirt. On his upper abdomen, right by his lower ribcage, is a rather large bruise. It is not fresh, even a bit faded. Still, the ugly purple welt does not look pleasant. Soul examines it in the mirror for several minutes, then lowers his top.}
{Turning to the bathroom door, Soul pulls a cellphone out of a breast pocket. Pressing a few buttons, he brings the name “Aeryn” onto the screen. His finger pauses about the call button. He stares at the phone for an eerily long time, before unleashing a long sigh. Instead of activating the call, he clears the screen while flicking off the light, returning the entire scene to darkness.}
