Post by: Burden on March 08, 2016, 12:20:04 AM
He didn't belong, he'd be disingenuous to think otherwise. This domain belonged to Burden, he was born in the fire. Breaking Alex Rush would be a welcoming gift, one to solidify a long reign to come. It was time to put the pun into the name. Alex Rush fate dealt you a shitty hand.
We open up inside a daft bar. The lighting was dim, yellow fluorescent bulbs dangled from strings. The globes had been stripped from existence. The joint was rugged, blue thin carpet in shambles, the wood on the elbow bar decaying. A pool table with torn felt sat vacant in the corner sleeping forever in purgatory. On a stool sat Chris Burden, his head draped low between his shoulder. His cold hand entangled around a glass of Johnnie Walker; his poison of choice.
His hair was a mess, a binder is what most would consider his current condition. His lips sealed against the rim of the glass, embellishing the contents in the inside the crystal. With a smack, he leans back stretching his limbs outward. His fingers fumble in that tattered leather jacket. They rummaged inside the inner chest pocket. Pulling out his box of cigarettes he sat them down on the bar table. His nimble index wrestles one free, flipping it to the butt side with the aid of his middle. A spark ignites from the other hand, inhaling deeply he gives life to an ember.
"You know, I used to be somebody. I use to be a man that captivated the attention of even the most distasteful promoter. The name alone held enough prestige to headline any card. I was revered Alex. There was a time when I was considered the best..." Another deep draw, a cloud of smoke follows suit. The camera consumed by the fog. "Yes there was a time - A time when I was feared."
You could feel the void in his voice. It was cold. Held zero emotion. His deep blue eyes pierced the camera. They were soulless lost without purpose. You could tell there was conflict brewing deep inside, spewing out the rubbish before you.
"Yes, there was a time. However time remains undefeated Alex. It claims us all. With the old there births a new. What once was relevant is no more." His hand gives aid to the bartender, making sure he fills the glass to the brim. "So imagine my surprise after a long sabbatical. Imagine if you will my frustration on what a industry I helped built has become? The blood I shed in the MSN era died in vain. The sweat and tears I perspired in the Aimoo circuit null and void. I'm left empty Alex, my peers, my equals...gone. This is my only company left."
He lifts the glass in a toast. Holding it to the light for a brief examination. The warmth of it sliding down his throat brought instant comfort. It was soothing like a child and its favorite blanket.
"So that leaves you in quite the pickle Alex. You've seem to be the unfortunate soul to pluck the short straw. You face a man with nothing to lose - a man with a vendetta. Someone who wants to rectify the wrongs that have been done. You're the prime example of my quarry. A celebrity musician trying to transition into an industry you don't belong. It would have served you best Mr. Rush to stick to what you know. Curiosity must have got the better of you. Cashing in on your status for the higher dollar. It'll all fall on deaf ears Alex. Climax Control you will perish as the first martyr. I will break you in front of the masses. I will smile once more as I watch them mourn. This is my promise to you. My solemn vow.”
The ember grows a deep red. The ashes falling on their own. He stamps the smoke out in the bottom of the empty glass. His open palm caresses his forehead, trying to bring back clarity. His eyelids folding shut.
“It's nothing personal. You were chosen by design. Just as it is my destiny to reclaim former glory and prosperity. It is yours to be the foundation. The stepping stone to the ascension back to the top of the mountain. There is honor in that Alex, no matter how little and insignificant. When you look back you get to say you were the rebirth of something truly spectacular. The gratitude will be all yours.”
His attention pulls away from the camera, a blonde vixen captures his eye. For the first time this segment they showed life. She's dressed in a form fitted red mini dress. The bottom tapered low to her thighs. Her cleavage exposed, the bust tempted to pour out. It was his beloved - Mikah.
“What are you doing in here? I've been looking everywhere for you. This is suppose to be my vacation away from the atrocity that is Sin City Wrestling!” Her voice was sharp, piercing through the smog in the air.
His eyes still fixated as if in a trance. “I'm educating Alex Rush dollface. Clearing the perception of exactly who I am. You know, all that jazz. Calm your tits. I'm done anyways.”
She stared at him with a snark expression. Her hand fell flat on her hip. “Come on, you're fucking drunk again. Hope you didn't try to go all deep a philosophical again. What am I going to do with you?”
His lips rejoiced upward and without hesitation he spoke. “Get naked?”
Fin.