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Messages - Gabe

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1
Climax Control Archives / We Create Our Own Luck. Don't Leave it to Chance.
« on: January 23, 2015, 08:55:33 PM »
 Gabriel chewed his lower lip, deep in pensive thought as the coin danced along the table in front of him. He leaned back into the chair, sucking in the air around him. No matter how much his lungs filled, he still felt deflated. The coin wobbled like a drunk, waiting to topple over. It did just that. Again he picked it up between his forefinger and thumb, pressing its bottom back into the table. Pressing life into the bronze decision maker, he watched it twirl and shine. In return for this solitary moment of momentum, he wanted an answer in return. If the head-side lay facing him, he would give it his all against Andrew Watts. If the tails-side stared up at him, he would spin it again. Five times yielded the same inviting smirk from tails. He gave up.

His most recent times at Sin City Wrestling were a blur of depressive, melancholic regrets. Management paved him a path to walk, each step another success, but he had foolishly misplaced his motivation like a set of car keys. In hospitals, when someone is on the brink of death, it is common for doctors to describe the person as circling the drain. They are slowly being sucked into a void of emptiness and despair, though they still clutch onto consciousness with what little life remains inside them. Gabriel had been circling the drain for some time now. If he couldn’t find some defibrillators or somehow perform CPR on his career, his life inside the ring would dwindle, and it would die.

He spun the coin a final time. Tails.

2
Climax Control Archives / Colors Don't Define My Destiny
« on: November 28, 2014, 08:29:49 PM »
 OOC: Haven't the energy to proofread, but I'll fix any errors post-results. Good luck to Sammeh, Maggie, and Sprinkles! \'youturnme.gif\'

• Scene 1
- The Coloring Book •

It is up to each of us to paint his or her own destiny. We are given a blank canvas to express ourselves upon, however, the majority of the time it is not our fingertips holding the brush that paints. The more we allow people to shape us in their image, the more we lose touch of whom we really are. But it can stop anytime you want it to, all you have to do is take control of the brush. Do not let others define you and paint you with stereotypes. We define ourselves. We are the artists.

He sat frozen underneath the table, knowing any minute they could find him. Kneeling on the cold floor, his arms wrapped around his body, hugging himself; not only to warm him, but to suppress his shakiness. The sounds of his pulsating heartbeat reverberating throughout his head slowly ate away at the dead of night.

”He’s got to be around here somewhere. I’ll check the dining room, you check the kitchen,” ordered the man.

The boy didn’t believe in God, but he prayed more than any devoutly religious person ever had. He didn’t want to be saved or to run, it was courage he seeked. Climax Control fast approached; bravery nowhere to be seen.

Muted heels tapped against the tiled floor. The boy’s eyes scanned underneath the tablecloth for shadows as his lungs squeezed, tightly hitching his breath within his throat. The large dining room table he hid under was where he usually felt safe. He could think about his upcoming match against Rage and Melody, but like usual, people always wanted to interfere with his plans - antagonizing him, despite him not bothering the world. His hiding spot no longer a haven for his thoughts.

"Found him.”

All the air inside his brittle chest left his body at that moment. He could see the fear in the breath that escaped his still lips, visible in the cold climate. His leg was snatched and yanked upon. His fingertips tried embedding themselves between the tiles before ultimately submitting to total despair.

"You thought you could hide from us? You’re not going to be much use on Sunday. Cowards don’t win matches.” The man pulled Gabriel from underneath the table and into the open. The large dining hall was fit for royalty, instead it hosted himself and his father.

“Where was he?”

His mother stormed into the hall, running to her husband and son. Their voices echoed around the room.

"Where do you think he was? Under the table like usual. You gave birth to a loser who is too scared to fight his own battles. Why can’t he be more like his sister?”

““Because he isn’t Jemma. That’s why.”

"No, he’s a failure, or at least he will be when Rage shows the world what he’s really made of. The guy’s a six-foot-eight, three-hundred-pound giant. He’ll crush your son this weekend, but he’ll do more than just injure his arm like last week.”

“He’s our son.”

His mother picked him from the floor, grabbing hold of his filthy t-shirt collar and stood him next to her.

“Even if he is a disappointment at times.

Gabriel balled his fists and kept them to his sides. Having become accustomed to face down and clenched teeth, he fought back the tears forming in his eyes, knowing it will be just another thing his father mocks him for. No matter what he did, it was never good enough for his father. He favored his younger sister, Jemma, or at least that’s what Gabriel thought.

"And that Melody girl, ha! Do you think he’s got what it takes to stop her winning the match? Of course not. Aww, does little Gabriel have a crush? It’s pathetic. He should treat her how Rage does, only then will he be on the right path to becoming a man and have a chance at winning the match.”

“There’s no harm in letting him have his little fantasies, and they’re only friends.”

"Jemma won’t hold back, she’ll give it her all, it doesn’t matter if she’s against her friends or not. That Melody calls him her Nutella of her life, and he calls her Sprinkles. Don’t make me sick. Is he in the wrestling business to win matches or to make friends?”

The two continued to tower over him, talking as if he wasn’t there. All he could think about was wishing that he really were invisible, maybe then he wouldn’t be such a burden to the world - and to his parents.

"Take him to his bedroom. I don’t want him in my sight.””

Gabriel chewed his lower lip, knowing if he dared look up to see the disappointment on his father’s face, he would no longer be able to stop a river of tears flooding down his cheeks. His mother took hold of his hand and dragged him through the dining room as her husband commanded. They exited the large doors and into a hallway.

“You know your father doesn’t mean everything he says. You just don’t have what it takes to succeed in the harsh world of wrestling, that’s all. He wants what’s best for you, honest.”

"I haven’t done anything wrong," said the softly spoken boy, with a crackled voice.

“I know, honey. Your father gets upset because you take to Twitter and embarrass the family. He’s right when he says you should be more like your sister. She’s fought hard to get into the wrestling business, and she has learned to respect he peers, not run her mouth off every chance she gets. She is more than capable of handling herself against Melody at Climax Control, just try not to mess things up, okay?”

She smiled at him, like that would even help. Leading him to the outside of his bedroom, she patted the top of his head and opened the door.

“We do love you.”

"I love you, too."

Those words were supposed to fill someone with joy and spark excitement deep down in their core. His words were hollow and meaningless, afraid if he doesn’t say them back he would get a beating. She opened his bedroom door with a smile and ushered him inside, locked it, then left.

The room had very little light; the only source coming from a small stained glass window next to a makeshift bunk bed.

“How’d it go?” Whispered a voice in the corner.

"The same as usual. Just leave me alone."

Gabriel’s feet stomped across the wooden floor until he reached the only other object in the room: a large metal trunk. One arm pushed open the huge lid, while his other hand dug inside. After moments of searching it, his hand resurfaced and the other let the lid drop back down, sounding a loud thud. He gripped the object firmly and walked over to the corner of the room, dropping to his knees, then sat down.

“Are you excited about the match?”

The question was answered with silence. Gabriel opened the object--a book of blank pages--and flicked through the pages until he landed on a drawing he drew of himself. The sounds of pitter-patter feet scurried across the dark room and stopped next to him. A soft scratching noise followed by a burst of light lit up the corner of the room where Gabriel sat. His little sister, Jemma, held onto the base of a candle and held it over his book.

“This will help.”

The child Jemma smiled at her older brother. The candlelight caught the edge of her soft face and gorgeous red hair. Gabriel snatched the candle from her and tossed it across the room, causing it to be extinguished mid-flight. It hit the wall and rolled across the floor.

"I said leave me alone! I wish I never had a sister sometimes."

Immediately he wished he never said that. Although he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew they were frowning. Her eyes were the most amazing part about her, they were like portals to her emotions. And right now, those portals were beginning to fill with water. He sat there silent in the dark, coloring in his drawing.

“Fine. I was only trying to help you see your drawing, you big jerk.”

"That’s right," he snapped. "It’s my drawing. Not yours, moms, or dads - it’s mine. I color it in how I want it to look. This drawing doesn’t have to worry about a stupid family and a silly wrestling match.”

“I believe in you,” she murmured. “Even if everybody else doesn’t. We can win on Sunday, right?”

He paused, searching for answers. The darkness hid his smile. She had always believed in him and he had never thanked her for trusting her mean big brother.

“You’ll take care of Rage, while I take care of Melody. That’s what you said.”

"Jem, I don’t want to talk about the match." His voice grew with frustration, wanting to be as far from the match as mentally possibly.

“But you said--”

"Go away! Just leave me alone!!"

Complete darkness ensued. Echoes of a familiar voice made itself present.

"Baby...What’s wrong? Wake up, babe.”

Gabriel’s eyes were anchored shut, but the more Amy nudged him, they slowly became unstuck. He sat up. She leaned against his back and draped an arm over the front of his chest.

"Fuck. Another dream."

"You were shouting again. This is must be the fourth time this week you’ve had these kinds of dreams. Rage really got you that worried? Its fine if you’re scared of him honey. Dude’s built like a monster."

He pushed off the bed, forcing himself past her arm.

"I’m not scared of Rage. Why is everybody saying that!? I’m more scared of Melody than that dumb Neanderthal."

"I was only playing. I believe in you."


• Scene 2
-   A Silver Lining •

Dreams can be a funny thing. All they really are is a bunch of neurons causing chaos in one’s brain while asleep. Some try to pry open the remnants of last night’s sleep, hoping to find some inner answers their consciousness won’t give them. Others, like Gabriel, believe it’s a fatuous and arduous task trying to find meaning where there is none. It’s just a dream, or at least that’s how he wanted to perceive it. He needed to clear his mind and wash away any doubts before heading into the one-hundredth episode of Climax Control. Sin City Wrestling wanted to make it the biggest show yet, which meant all eyes were going to be fixed on the show. Failure, success, emotions, and the pressure were heightened for the milestone show.

Gabriel’s eyes were clamped shut as he was cautiously led forwards.

"Are we there yet?"

"You’re more annoying than my cousin. He’s only four. We’re not far now, just make sure you’re not peeking through my fingers."

He tried assessing his surroundings by patting his sneakers against the floor, but the only information he could vaguely gather was that he was walking on uneven ground.

"Okay. We’re here."

She pulled her hands away from his eyes and stood beside him. Her innocent and gleeful smile pushed up her cheeks, somewhat resembling a chipmunk. Kirsty, Gabriel’s long-time friend, was somebody he could always turn to during troubled times. She often floated into his life like a butterfly of quirky and odd advice, but then disappear when he didn’t need her. She pulled down on her long pink dress, excited at where they were.

"I know, amazing right!? I’ve, like, been dying to show you this place for ages."

Gabriel stood bemused. Her golden hair ran down past her shoulders, stopping halfway down her back. She span in a circle on her bare feet, breathing in the fresh air.

"You’ve brought me to a forest? I asked for your advice regarding my upcoming match, not to rape and murder me."

Too busy looking at the picture-esque fairy-tale green grass and trees which looked like they had been crafted by Walt Disney himself, her balled fist crashed down onto the top of his head.

"That’s so not funny, Gabe! I came here to help you, not listen to your dumb jokes. Are you going to accept my help or not!?"

His palm furiously rubbed the top of his head, hoping it would somehow ease the burning pain. Kirsty was a sweet girl with a bitter temper. Often, she would flare up momentarily, only to be completely calm moments later. Gabriel put it down as one of her quirks.

"Well, I like to come her to relax and think about my problems. There’s so much someone like you could learn from this forest."

"You’ve got the strangest idiosyncrasies, you know that?"

"I’m not an idiot!"

"No. It’s, uh--nevermind. Don’t hit me again, that hurts. What can I learn from this place? Tree, grass, and a few bunny rabbits; what’s the big deal?"

She scoffed at him and placed both her hands on her hips.

"Because I friggin’ said so. Now look, you made me curse. Tell me about your match."

She bounced on her tiptoes, leading him through the trees. Sunlight pierced through the branches and onto Gabriel’s Jeans and t-shirt, warming him for just a second, until she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the shade.

"It’s weird. I’m a kid again. I’m always hiding from my dad, never living up to his standards, and he laughs at me when he hears I’m up against Rage and Melody."

"You don’t sound as confident as you tell everyone you are."

He sighed as she stopped still, looking at him with pursed lips.

"I don’t know. Sometimes it feels I’m only portraying a confident guy. Maybe if Rage believes I’m going to win, then it might actually happen. In all seriousness, the guy has muscles growing upon muscles. How is that fair? I can’t compete with that. He aligns himself with those Sins, while I’ve got nobody. I’ve got Amy, Jemma, Melody, and those pervert Players Club members on my side."

"Melody - your opponent, Melody?"

"Ha, yeah. We’re good friends. I want Jemma to win but then I also want Melody to win. My sister is my sister, obviously. It’s her second ever match, and she’s tagging with me, so it’s a big deal. But Melody is just starting out as a wrestler, too. And she’s pretty damn good, going by her last match. She’s a sweetheart.

All three of them want to be in the match and have earned the right to be there. Me, I’m just a fraud. I tell so many lies that I start to believe them, I just can’t believe the one where I say I’m the best."

"Oh, boo hoo, mister. You don’t know how good you’ve got it."

Kirsty pointed to baby tree which reached her waist. Its brittle branches frowning, not receiving much sunlight due to the taller trees overshadowing it.

"You’re a wrestler for Sin City Wrestling! Sure, you might not be getting all the spotlight and confidence-boosting you need, but you’ve come this far on your own, why give up now? It’ll all be for nothing if you let Rage get into your head and make you quit. Only quitters quit."

"That might just be the most obvious statement I’ve ever heard."

Her fist wildly swung into the side of his arm. Her voice grew.

"You know what I mean!! Look at this tree. It doesn’t just give up, rot, and die. It gathers what little sunlight it can and makes the most of it. You need to make the most of your opportunities when you get them. Some doofus is twice the size of you and will pound you face into jelly, so what? It doesn’t stop you from going out there and giving it your all."

"Jesus. You really know how to massage my deflated ego."

"I know, right. Sometimes I surprise myself."

She bit her smiling bottom lip and took hold of Gabriel again, venturing deeper into the forest.

"Here’s a thought. Maybe instead of fearing Rage, is there anything you like about him? You could always learn things from him until you become a good wrestler."

"I am a good wrestler," he scowled. "I’m just not that good. While Jemma focuses on Melody, I need to wear Rage down, he’s pretty athletic. I’ll have to be one-hundred percent focused because if he hit his ‘Rage Slam’ on me, I’d be out for the count."

"There you have it, you big numpty. Stay alert and on guard, and remember not to give up because it’ll all be for nothing. All this hard work and training, make it count. And make sure Jemma knows what to expect from Melody. Her good looks might trick you, so they might trick your sister, too. Just like me and my good looks fool you into thinking I’m friendly."

She fluttered her eyelashes at him, quirking a smile. He laughed and nudged her shoulder.

"Right, let’s get you out of here. You need to prepare for your match and stop being such a Debbie Downer. Show everyone what a little tree can do."


• Scene 3
- Overcoming Obstacles •

The remaining few days went by, Gabriel trying to piece everything together. Kirsty was right - he had earned the right to look Rage face-to-face and not be intimidated. Undefeatable is a beguiling word, but in reality, it’s nothing more than a word. Rage and Melody would go down like a lead balloon with the Titanic painted across its hard skin.

Gabriel cleared his throat and gripped the microphone tightly. Climax Control's one-hundredth episode was imminent, all that was left was for the cameras to begin filming. He thought he would take the opportunity to address the fans, his opponents, and even himself.

“I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin blasts through the titantron as Gabriel shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Every time he stepped through the curtain, his nerves would clench onto his insides, giving him a sickly feeling. This time the nerves weren’t there. He pushed past the black curtain and immediately got bathed by the venue’s lights. In just a pair of jeans and boots, he made his way past the SCW fans, who greeted him with a mixture of cheers and boos. As he approached the ring, his eyes assessed the arena, making sure there were no blind spots where Rage, or even Melody, could sneak up on him and go for a pre-emptive strike.

Gabriel ascended the steel steps, wasting little time, and entered the ring through the middle rope. He motioned for his music to be cut and brought the microphone to his mouth, speaking over the already rowdy crowd.

"Listen. I could come out here and say What’s up Nevada, the Joint, or try some other kind of beguiling technique to get all you guys and girls on my side tonight, but that’s not going to happen. Before we get started, I thought I’d do something I don’t usually do by addressing everybody before the show actually begins. You’re all aware me and my sister will be going against Rage and Melody tonight, in a rare intergender tag match.

While yes, I am excited, all week long I’ve been contemplating the what-ifs regarding this match. You all saw Rage attack me upon my return, to which I replied by leaping off the small titantron and landed an elbow to his face. He couldn’t leave it at one-one, though. He then attacked me last week and tried to bend my arm in ways it doesn’t want to bend.

Well, ever since then, I’ve been worried about the outcome of this match. Also, Melody is a good friend of mine, so to have her rub it in my face is just going to kill me."

He paused, somewhat half-heartedly hoping for some kind of laugh from the fans, but he received nothing. Again, he cleared his throat and took in a deep breath.

"I didn’t know if this business was for me. Every single thing I’ve wanted to accomplish in life has failed. I’ve disappointed my family, my friends, but most of all myself. Rather than sit in a puddle of regrets, I’ve decided to come out here and let Rage and Melody know that if they are going to beat me and Jemma, we’re not going to lie down and wait to be trodden on.

I’ve met amazing people such as Roxi Johnson, who has taught me to no longer succeed in being a failure. Stay true to myself and my friends, and the rest is easy. And then I’ve met Rage, who had made me so kid-level scared that I could see nothing but a loss when we both meet in the ring. It bothered me why I let this overrated, roided-up guy get to me. His only friends are that perverted cult, the Seven Deadly Sins. He hates anything with a pulse. The guy is a loser of such epic proportions, it’s embarrassing. The only thing original about him tonight is his tag-team partner, Melody Grace. "

Gabriel let out a smile as some members of the crowd whistled and jeered.

"Melody is my Sprinkles, and I’m the Nutella of her life. I told Jemma to go easy on her, I don’t exactly want my best friend hurt. But Melody told me not to confuse her friendliness with an unwillingness to win. For one night only she was going to attempt to kick my ass, well, Jem’s ass. Melody’s desire for this business is something that I can only aspire to. I watched her the other week, when she tapped out Necra, and she proved to the world she is the future of this company. Sure, she’s a bit ditsy, she’s young, gullible, and hangs with wrongens like Rage, but I can’t think of a better person to lose to."

He paused for the last time, thinking of a good way to end it before he had to go ready for imminently approaching match.

"I wanted to keep this short and sweet, just like Sprinkles. I just came to say I’ve been running away from my fears for a long time now, but there are people who have had much worse childhoods and overcome seemingly impossible obstacles and odds to get where they are today. So, after making friends with some of the greatest people here in this company, I think I have actually found my niche in the world. Win or lose, I’m proud of myself, Jemma, Melody, and even Rage. I’ve always longed for admiration from other people, but it’s never enough because I didn’t have my own backing, but now I do.

Rage and Melody might be the favorites going into this match but me and Jemma will give it our all and go down fighting like the champions we are. I don’t see Melody and Rage in the opposite corner, I see two opponents who I’ll fight through blood, sweat, and tears to overcome. Then, at the end of the night, I can finally say I’m proud of myself; through all the bullshit I’ve had to put up with during the years, I’m still here, and I’ll fight until the final breath leaves my aching lungs."

He dropped the mic, which hit the ring canvas with a thud. “I Will Not Bow” began to play through the sound system again, and the cameras fade to a smirking Gabriel.

3
Climax Control Archives / The Best Promo in the History of Ever
« on: November 21, 2014, 11:32:11 PM »
 A lone interviewer and a cameraman roamed the Climax Control parking lot. The interviewer paced in and out of shot, the microphone clenched within his balled fist.

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"Jesus Christ! Not one interview. The show is literally about to air, and we’ve not had a single superstar share five minutes with us. I’m getting shitcanned if we don’t think of something fast."

Gabriel Asar was spotted walking in their direction. The interviewer forced out a cough and motioned for the cameraman to film the SCW superstar.

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"Uh, Gabriel. Can we quickly get a word regarding your match tonight. It’s your return match, how seriously will you be taking it?"

Midstep, Gabriel paused and turned toward the two men standing to his side.

«: GABRIEL ASAR :»
"You’re kidding me, right? It’s against Johnny Ajax. Apart from appearing in Pacific Pro, he’s done nothing special enough for me to take him seriously. Look at me, I’m not even in my ring gear yet, just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Surely that tells everyone how easily I think I’ll win tonight."

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"Aren’t you even a little bit frightened stepping into the ring against someone you know very little about?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR :»
"Frightened? Am I fu--"

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"Cut!"

The uninterested and smirking Gabriel turned and carried on walking.

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"This is an absolute joke. We’ve got no footage at all."

The interviewer aspirated his words and flailed his arms in a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

«: INTERVIEWER :»
"Turn it off. Let’s go home."

The cameraman switched off the camera.

4
Climax Control Archives / The Ominous Journey of Self-Discovery
« on: August 29, 2014, 09:09:05 PM »
 â€¢ Scene 1 •

Gabriel didn’t know it yet, but his night would be ruined by bloodstained bullets lodged in the corpses of those around him.

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Are you listening to me?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Of course."

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"What did I say?"

He had been thinking about his upcoming match against Steve Ramone and Connor Murphy. A victory guaranteed him a spot on the Violent Conduct II card for the SCW Roulette Championship. It was a lose-lose situation for him. Winning the title would cement him in midcard, somewhere he desperately didn’t want to be; and not winning meant he’d then become subject to the laughs of his peers, embarrassing him.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Um, you said something about stop worrying, and that you’re here for me..."

The restaurant was fully-booked. The pair sat at opposite ends of a table, and despite being within touching distance of each other, their voices had to be raised in order to be heard. The banging of cutlery against porcelain, the rowdy customers, and the quaint orchestral music made the place a little hard of hearing.

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"You need to focus on this match. I’m in a six-woman tag match, Mean Girls are going down, but you’ve just got yourself to rely on. I don’t want my baby getting hurt."

She extended her hand across the table , cupping his. It was cut short by a young waitress bringing them their drinks they hand ordered. Gabriel picked up a straw and placed it in his Azure Sangria, a blue-colored cocktail.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’ve never even heard of my opponents, I’ll be fine."

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"They might just surprize you, mister. Ramone recently lost to Equinox, but he’s no pushover. In fact, the guy darts all around the ring with his high-flying moves, it can be kind of hard to catch him. He’s been around a few companies, held a ton of titles - the usual. Connor is the one you want to watch out for."

He didn’t know if he wanted to win or not. It reminded him when he was at other companies where he won midcard titles. He’d go on an unexciting winning streak against a bunch of nobodies, making his life dull and monotonous. Back then, people described him as a monster for his callous ways. Since meeting Amy, he no longer wanted to be cruel for the sake of it, it didn’t excite him anymore. Winning his upcoming match and then going on to win the Roulette Championship would send him back to his prior state of constantly facing nobodies. He wanted to be the face of SCW, not fade away in the background. His spoilt Liz Smalls’ side reared its ugly head whenever he didn’t get his way.

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Are you listening to me?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Of course."

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Connor Murphy is Vixen’s brother. He thinks he’s some kind of badass. He’s got the image but needs to actually make the world believe it as much as he does. Murphy’s got the most to prove in this match, and he’ll be looking to give it his all."

Gabriel rested an elbow on the table and started to bite at his fingernails.

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Everything okay? You don’t seem your normal self today."

He swallowed a dry lump forming in his throat. The match was having severe effects on him.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"We ordered about forty minutes ago, I’m hungry, that’s all."

She smiled and looked around to see if there were any signs of the foods arrival, however, Gabe’s peripheral vision blurred as he stirred his drink with the straw. His other hand supported his cheek as he lent on it. The ripples in the drink resembled the waves of the ocean. His vision became fixated on them until everything around him disappeared. He imagined himself slowly falling into his glass, forgetting about his upcoming, imminent match.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Where am I? What is this place?"

His eyes became wide and alert, realizing Amy was no longer in front of him. The moment he spoke, his mouth filled with salt water - it was the ocean. Frantically, he looked around but only saw the misty green-blue sea. He could only see a couple feet in front of him. The icy water evoked shivers from the SCW superstar as he stretched out his arms. Contemplating on what to do he began a slow swim, looking all around him.

It was strange. The cold pressed against his face while he delved deeper, spotting an obscure object in the distance. Fully-clothed and curious, he swam across the seemingly desolate and murky water, the object becoming slightly more visible. As he approached the six-foot-something thing, he noticed more of them were floating about, they looked like bodies because they had clothes on. With every inch closer, another appeared. Reaching out, he grabbed one and slowly turned it toward him. He screamed, kicking it away from him.

Bodies filled with bullet wounds surrounded him, floating with current. The dead body was Steve Ramone. He could also see Connor Murphy, Drake Green, all the members of Mean Girls, and more. They were everywhere. Get me out of here, he thought. Fighting against the heavy water, he tried swimming to the surface but was unable to move. No matter how hard he tried swimming, he couldn’t. His chest became heavier, the horizon darker. His screams were put on mute as the sight of another body drifted toward him in the distance, only this time it was animate.

His stiff muscles refused to budge as the person moved closer. It was him. The person was Gabriel. The real one stopped struggling. The other Gabriel eventually reached him, smirking, and held out a gun and a single bullet that had Gabriel’s name on it.

Gabriel...
Gabriel…

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Gabriel!"

He jolted backward and stared at Amy.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"What?"

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"Foods here."

Sweat trickled down his forehead, before he looked down and realized the waitress had placed their meals on the table. Gabriel rubbed his hands through his hair, dishevelling it, as he took in a deep breath of relief.

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"You really don’t look so good."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’m not hungry. Let’s go."

«: AMY MARSHALL;
the Punk Whore :»
"The food…?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’ll cook something when we get back to mine, I just feel sick. I can’t…uh, let’s leave, baby. Please, for me."

Amy wore a look of disappointment, biting the corners of her cheeks, but concern grew and she rubbed his shoulder and stood. After paying, the two of them left, with Gabriel pondering what his daydream meant.


• Scene 2 •

Attempting to tame the unwilling is an arduous task. Gabriel imprisoned parts of himself for an exceptionally long time, too scared to free his innate desires. Whenever he searched the fog of blackness obscuring his mind, something stared back at him. It needed to remain secretive, forever locked in a dungeon unreachable by even the most avid explorer. He feared obtaining the SCW Roulette Championship would landlock him in the midcard, unable to sail to stardom within the company. Instead, the blackness of his mind would divide, revealing the workings of a bridge. The thing staring back at him could then cross over to the physical realm, possessing its creator: Gabriel.

He had come to terms with his own inner demon wanting to make itself known. For if Gabriel were to kill his own personality, he could become a monster. All week the daydream played on his mind.

His lips parted as he drew in a sharp breath, resting against the concrete pillar. The cold air seeped through the black leather jacket. He reached inside the front chest pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, flicked open the packet, and snatched one of the instruments of death. Gabriel didn’t smoke, however, nothing right now eased his nerves about his upcoming match. He patted down his jacket after returning the packet to his pocket, but he couldn’t find a lighter. The unlit cigarette dangled between his teeth.

«: Interviewer :»
"Mr. Asar, can I get a few words?"

Looking up, Gabriel shook his head at the site of an interviewer with a lone cameraman. The pair zig-zagged across the parking lot and made their way to him. The interviewer pointed a microphone at Gabriel but received no reply. The man wore an obnoxious, smug grin that matched his tangerine-colored suit.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Go away."

The man was taken aback. He stammered a deflated “Uh, okay” before awkwardly turning around, shrugging at the camera pointed toward him. Gabriel’s boot kicked off the pillar, and he dug his hands into his jean’s pocket.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Wait. You got a light?"

«: Interviewer :»
"Yes, sir."

The man didn’t hesitate, pulling a lighter from his suit pocket, throwing it to Gabriel. A short spark sent a flame dancing across the lighter’s top. Gabriel leaned forward, cigarette still in mouth, and pushed it against the flame, cremating its end. He tossed the lighter back.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"You’ve got until the time I smoke this to get all the answers you need. Keep it concise."

Every sound echoed through the Climax Control Parking lot, but Gabriel’s lips muted his voice as they silently puffed away. The drag he took on the cigarette cooled his system. The capricious Gabriel had many facets, relaxed was probably his least seen, but something about his daydream changed him.

«: Interviewer :»
"Tonight is a huge night for you to prove to your fans that you’ve got what it takes to win the number one contendership match and go on to fight Equinox, Kris Halc, and Ryan Kidd at Violent Conduct II. How are you feeling right now, any nerves? "

Silence answered his question. Gabriel pulled the stick of cancer from his mouth and looked at it, coughed a little, then smiled with his eyebrows.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"You know, everything that kills me makes me feel alive. Smoking, alcohol, drugs, going through the pain of having my skull pushed into the canvas of the ring, and everything else in between gets kind of addictive. I know it is detrimental to me, but what good is life if I can’t bathe in the luxury of a little poison now and then?

Tonight I’ll go out to the ring and have my body get battered and bruised for the sake of some measly fans. I receive the spotlight for a short amount of time at the expense of my life expectancy. I’ve become numb to the pain, and that’s how I’m feeling about tonight. This situation has replayed over and over in my head countless times. There’s no point fighting it anymore."

«: Interviewer :»
"What situation would that be?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’m not in SCW for titles or to win, I’m here to compete. I don’t ask or wait for the spotlight, I demand it. While the spotlight is brighter than ever, I feel the candle that burns within me is slowly dying out. Soon there will be nothing left, just darkness. I’ll end up wrestling each week because it is what I’m good at. The passion would have died, and I will be drowning. Don’t mistake the darkness for emptiness. When the candle--my passion for this business--dies out, my opponents will never want to step foot in the ring with me again. I’ve defeated Kris Halc and Ryan Kidd already, if I win tonight, they better know they will be fighting a different type of Gabriel Asar come the pay-per-view."

The interviewer cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Gabriel’s cryptic message. Gabriel flicked the end of the cigarette, forcing the ash to splinter off and be carried away by the gentle breeze.

«: Interviewer :»
"The triple threat match is a Roulette Rules match, meaning the spinning of a wheel will decide the stipulation of the match itself. You’re going into this match blind, how do--"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Do I try to fan the passionate flame that is dying out, or do I let it whimper and die? it is like I’m stuck in limbo. I’m on a path of self-discovery and I’ve veered off-road. I feel lost but I’m used to the unknown, which gives me an advantage in tonight’s match against Steve Ramone and Connor Murphy. Both men want to achieve great things in this company, they want the Roulette Championship, I do not. The unknown shouldn’t scare them in this match, they should be scared of me."

«: Interviewer :»
"When you say you don’t want the title, can you elaborate on that? Surely holding a title of that calibre would do wonders for your career within the company?”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I have this unquenchable thirst that can only be partially eased by fighting tough opponents. The Roulette Championship doesn’t offer me tough opponents, it offers me people like Ramone and Murphy. Winning has become somewhat of a habit for me, testing my capabilities in the wrestling ring is my addiction. If I’m not going against people like Drake Green, what’s the point in fighting at all?"

«: Interviewer :»
"What are your thoughts of the current champion, Equinox?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"SCW should be embarrassed a man like him has held the title for so long. The man looks like he’s a sex offender, and he speaks like one, too. While he’s determined and tenacious, he doesn’t have the in-ring capabilities that any champion should possess. Ramone and Murphy deserve to go against Equinox, not me. I see it as a giant step down. The owners of this company ought to be ashamed of themselves for trying to toss me a bone. They want to make it look like they care about me and are giving me opportunities, when in fact they are looking after their own self-interests. Drake Green is the face they have chosen to represent their company; by handing me an easy path to the Roulette Championship, they think I’ll willfully take it and not get in the way of their plans."

«: Interviewer :»
"Mr. Asar, are you saying you don’t want to win the title and are thinking about throwing the match?"

He again tapped the end of the cigarette, forcing more ash to scatter from its end. Taking in the toxic chemicals, he felt a changing in his system. His voice spoke more confidently as his chest puffed; his lungs full of waste.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"What I’m saying is I have no use for the title, but it is inevitable it is going to end up within my grasp because I don’t lie down for anybody."

«: Interviewer :»
"Showing no respect for the title isn’t going to go down well with the fans or any of the superstars in the lockerroom. They might disagree with your lack of respect for Steve Ramone, Connor Murphy, and anyone else in the midcard for that matter."

Gabriel’s dark gray eyes churned a burning amber as they became intensely fixated on the question.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"A lion never loses sleep over the opinions of sheep. If they perceive me as some kind of bad guy, so be it. Being good is good, and all, but being bad is just so god damn delicious, and being bad is what I’m good at. I can’t promise them I’ll be a worthy champion, but I will be champion. Ramone and Murphy are first; once they are out of the way, I’ll be on my way to Violent Conduct II."

«: Interviewer :»
"And you have no doubts about you winning tonight? I’m sure both men are equally as confident as you are."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I don’t make empty promises. If I aim a threat at someone, I will not be carrying blanks. The bullets I fire all have names on them, and I never miss. If I come to have any doubts about the match, well, I might see to it that a bullet has my name on it."

Gabriel snatched the half-smoked cigarette and threw it the floor, the heel of his boot removing its remaining life. He stretched out his arms, it was time to get ready for his match.

«: Interviewer :»
"Um, Mr. Asar, any last words?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"By putting me against these two clowns tonight, SCW is inadvertently releasing the shackles of an entity I’ve successfully suppressed for a long time. I’ll soon posses a title I don’t want to have, and I’ll be going against opponents I don’t want to fight. The shackles will weaken, and out of the darkness shall soon walk a devil. I’m not going to lose a match anytime soon, especially when you look at the competition in this company, so get used to my music. The people of Sin City Wrestling will be dancing with the devil; and believe me, I can dance all night."

Ninja, Kris Halc, Vincent Peterson, Joshua Acquin, Ryan Kidd, Lucian Frost, Steve Ramone, Connor Murphy, and Gabriel Asar were all given the chance to achieve extraordinary things in the ‘Going for the Gold - Roulette Rules’ tournament. Whether Gabriel liked it or not, he had to win or face embarrassment. Without saying goodbye, he started a pensive walk away from the interviewer, his heels clapping across the parking lot floor. Gabriel Asar had done a lot of soul searching this past week and was no closer to finding out the real him. He was on thin ice, and if it broke, the man emerging from the water might not be the same one who fell in. It would be Gabriel Asar versus SCW, and SCW wouldn't stand a chance.



5
Climax Control Archives / Hijacking the Spotlight Without Purpose
« on: August 15, 2014, 08:01:13 PM »
 â€¢ Scene 1 •

A person’s ego can perniciously corrupt the most innocent of people, giving them aspirations not ready to be bestowed upon them. Gabriel Asar’s recent victory over the loud-mouthed Kris Halich had seen his ego become even more inflated than it had already been. The lethargic Gabriel was out of action for almost two months, therefore any positives taken from his debut were sure to fan the flame that relit itself inside of him, giving him a new purpose. Not setting his sights on any title just yet, he focused his attention on his upcoming match with Ryan Kidd. Gabriel’s second match at Sin City Wrestling was Kidd’s second debut. Both men had egos, only Gabriel’s was more deserving.

Ink-black heels clapped against the concrete. A pair of long, extended legs headed for Gabriel’s apartment. Little did he know, his breakfast routine was about to be interrupted by his opponent, albeit not on Kidd’s own accord. The woman stopped outside the apartment complex, her fingers tightly gripping a folder. Raising her free hand, her index finger trained itself onto a button connected to an intercom. Milk and cereal gushed from Gabriel’s mouth as he jolted upright before slamming the bowl onto the kitchen counter. The intercom’s wailing drilled through the calm morning with its exasperating sound.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’m coming!"

Gabriel leaped into a pair of jeans after struggling to force a leg through, then ran to the intercom and pressed the button.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Who is it?"

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Why it’s your good friend, Kirs--”

Fuck! What on earth is she doing here? he thought to himself as he buzzed her in. He didn’t want any company over, the place was a mess. Instead of preparing for his upcoming match, he bathed in his luxurious ego trip that spiked after receiving his first ‘W‘ at the company. A creased white t-shirt accompanied his baggy jeans. Before he could scramble to find socks to put on his feet, Kirsty knocked on the door. He darted across the apartment, pressed his face against the wooden door, and peered through the peephole. Her body shape contorted, like looking through a fish bowl. He snapped down the handle and, before he knew it, there she was - in human form. His eyes immediately focused on her shiny, black heels before tracing up her legs, past her skirt and blouse, settling on her face.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Uh, hi…?"

She brushed past him, still clutching the folder.

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"By the looks of it, it’s a good thing I came round. Look at this place, it’s filthy. You should be training for your match against Ryan Kidd, not living like some bum.”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’ll tidy later, and don’t worry about Kidd, let me handle that. Did you see me defeat Kris Halich last week? Believe me when I say I’ve got everthing covered."

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Uhm, I don’t think so, mister. I’ve got information I think you’ll want to hear.”

She meandered through the hallway, past the bedrooms, and into the kitchen. Gabriel pursued her. She picked up empty pizza boxes and beer cans along the way, popping them inside a waste basket. Spinning on her heels, she turned to Gabriel and pointed to the kitchen counter and ordered him to sit on one of the sets of three stools either side. Her stern voice was all the convincing he needed to do as he was told.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I know you’ve helped me a lot in the past but I honestly have this guy figured out. He’s been in SCW before, after his first lost he quit. Doesn’t sound like he lives up to what he proclaims to be."

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Yuck. Just look at this place, I mean it’s disgusting. Sitting back and resting on that big ol’ ego of yours is only going to fatten you up, y’know? You need to take this match seriously, or else Mr. Doesn’t Live Up To Your Standards will embarrass you. I’ve been doing some digging around. Here’s what I’ve found.”

She placed the folder on top of the marble counter and opened its contents. Whenever Gabriel got himself into a spot of trouble mentally, she came round his apartment to give him the dirt on his opponents. He looked at her gold locks of hair draping over her shoulders and running down her back, before his eyes shifted onto her blue orbs. She nodded to the folder, forcing him to pay attention.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Okay, so what have we here?"

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"This is a list of his achievements, his style of fighting, who he has beaten, and all that mumbo jumbo.”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Listen, I appreciate you trying to help me out, honest. I just--"

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"No. You. Listen. To. Me.”

Each word spoken assisted her forefinger pressed against Gabriel’s forehead like it was the intercom buzzer.

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"You might think you’re some big shot in the world of wrestling, and that may be the case, but you’re a nobody in Sin City Wrestling. Kris Halich is nothing compared to upcoming opponent, the sooner you realize that the better. Last week was last week, this week it’s Ryan Kidd. So, I suggest you zip that mouth of yours shut, look inside this pretty little folder, and focus. Can you do that for me?”

Aspirating the last line, rhetorically, she took a seat next to him. Her fingers traced what she read aloud. Gabriel tried to follow but couldn’t shake the thought of how someone could get so mad yet flush out the anger in a flash.

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Have you heard of this man, Daniel Tyler?”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"No."

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Well, you should have. Don’t be such a dummy, Gabe. If you want to stick around SCW, you’re going to want to get familiar with its history. Anyway, Daniel Tyler is the one Kidd debuted against, you can guess the winner, right? It was your opponent for this week. A solid victory for the newcomer. After watching both your debuts, there isn’t much to split either of you. He won his match by disqualification, so you have a clean victory over him, I guess. Come to think of it, he has never won a match in SCW cleanly. The second match is where it gets interesting, though.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and started to pay attention. Kirsty wore a much different expression on her face. Her eyes alight with excitement. All her hard research was finally unfolding in front of her, she could only hope that the egocentric friend she sat next to was receptive and taking it all in.

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"His second match for SCW was his last. He paired with that Amy you’ve been seeing a lot of. Jordan Williams and Odette Ryder were their opponents. I bet you a million bucks you haven’t heard of them either. Am I right?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"All I’m seeing is someone who couldn’t stand losing, then leav--"

Kirsty ignored him and picked up the folder, humming to herself, while flicking through it. She slapped it back onto the kitchen counter

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Ah-ha! Look at his accomplishments. Right there. You see? Impressive, eh. He was Star of the Year in two different companies in the same year, two years ago. One of his matches in an entirely different company was voted the best match of the year. That’s a lot of years, and he has held belts, too. Ryan Kidd is no kid, Gabs. You would never see him throw a hissy fit on Twitter when he doesn’t get his own way.”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"What is that supposed to mean!?"

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Nothing. All I’m saying is I know you, and I know you’ll throw your toys out your pram if you lose this week. I’m here to tell you to get off your fat, lazy ass and actually put in some effort. You might think you can roll into this match like you’re some unstoppable boulder, or whatever, but I really don’t want to see you come undone inside the ring and have your SCW career fall to pieces. ”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Kirst, I’m not like this guy. I don’t quit. Through all the acting up on Twitter and the countless shenanigans, I know what I’m doing--I’m in control--and always achieve my goals. I’m not interested in what Kidd has accomplished, all I can do is focus on my wants and what I need to do in order to get them. If I sit back and worry about what this guy’s going to do, I’ve lost before I even step in the ring."

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"You are so missing the point here. You’re a closed-minded knucklehead.”

Kirsty balled a fist and tapped Gabriel on the head and laughed. Her bouncy cheeks rose, squishing her face into a squint. He pushed her hand away and stood from the chair.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I appreciate you bringing all this information to me, but honestly you shouldn’t worry yourself. If I win, I won’t rub it in your face by telling you I knew I would all along. If I lose, well, that isn’t going to happen."

She scoffed at him. His immediate reply was laughter, and he handed her the folder, while his other hand held her shoulder at arm’s length. Ryan Kidd probably never had a friend like Kirsty, but Gabriel did. He knew to be thankful for the efforts she had made, alerting him of any unsuspecting dangers. He just couldn’t see the dangers because he was still swimming in the sea of his own narcissistic thoughts.

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Don’t be so impet, um, impetri--”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Impetuous."

«: KIRSTY;
the Perky and Quirky :»
"Yes, don’t be so impetuous when you’re out there. Whether you believe it or not, Ryan Kidd has been around the block. If you’re not on your A game, he might catch you off guard. Be careful out there, and don’t be such stranger. Ever since you signed for SCW you’ve ignored your old friends in favor of your new ones.”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Okay, I’ve got it. I’m focused on this new path I’m on, that’s all. Thanks again for your help. I’ll think about what you’ve said, I’ll also stay in touch a lot more."

The two of them exchanged a hug and within a snap of a finger, she was gone. He watched her skip across the hallway and out of the apartment complex, then shut door. Puffing out his cheeks, he assessed the apartment. It was time to clean up his living area; his ego needed a good hoovering, too.


• Scene 2 •

Nightmares are often said to be ominous signs of the perilous future, but to others they are mere neurons joyriding around the semi-conscious brain; luckily for Gabriel, he stood with the latter. The night before Climax Control, his sleep wouldn’t remain unbroken for more than an hour, plagued by the thoughts of losing the match. Confidence served him well up until now, however, he attributed the nightmares to Kirsty’s brief talk with him.

Gabriel rubbed his dark eyes, prying out any sleep dust. Tonight was the night; Climax Control crept up on him sooner rather than later, and he paid the price for not training this week. He snatched a microphone from backstage and nodded to the sound guy to play his music. It was only the pre-show, but he wanted to address the fans before the real show started. The music electrified his weakened body, like a defibrillator the sound of “I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin sparked him with Adrenaline. He made his way through the black curtain and entered on to the stage, instantly hit by smell of body odour, a rainbow of lights, and the roars of a fully-packed venue. He could easily be mistaken for a fan--with his jeans and beige t-shirt--though it was the pre-show, and he wouldn’t be getting ready for another twenty minutes.

He sauntered down the ramp, taking note of the rumbling noises reverberating throughout the building. The feverish fans weren’t shy at expressing their feeling toward Gabriel. Beneath the clouds of a mixture of boos and cheers, Gabriel approached the bottom of the ramp and scaled the steps, wasting no time to climb into the ring. He ran his fingertips through his already dishevelled hair. With his free hand, he brought the microphone to his lips and waited for his music to die down. The shadow of a smirk presented itself.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"What’s going on, San Diego!?"

The crowd was lifted by the mentioning of their hometown and praised him by chanting his name.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Shut up. You’re too predictable. I mention this city and you’re like a bunch of patriotic hillbillies. I’m not out here for you, I’m out here for me. So settle down a little for me, would you?"

Cheers contorted to boos, but he ignored them and got on with what he was out there for.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’m here to address my opponent, Ryan Kidd. Y’know, all week I haven’t really gave him much thought because, let’s face it, he quit SCW after his first loss. I see this all too many times in companies with people who sound and act exactly like him. There’s nothing original about this wonderkid indies wrestler. All last night I wondered how it would actually feel to be beaten by this fraudster. I haven’t trained all week, therefore I’ve left it until the last minute to get the job done. Now I’m starting to foresee repercussions for my laziness.

Just because you killed Jesse Jame, it doesn’t make you Jesse James. I’m beginning to think this adrenaline junkie might actually pull off a lucky win, or at least that’s what by subconsciousness is screaming at me. If that does happen: just because you defeated Gabriel Asar, it doesn’t make you Gabriel Asar. I would tell people I was beaten by Ryan Kidd; they would say, ‘Who?’ and I would say, ‘Exactly.’ While I’m not at my best tonight, I am here, and I intend to stay here--with this company--for a very long time. Kidd can’t promise you that."

Gabriel paused, momentarily. His eyes searching the crowd for a reaction but they watched on, not knowing whether to encourage or reproach him.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"It’d be interesting to see if he’s still here by the time Violent Conduct II arrives. There’s no doubt he and I are likely to be put in this ‘Going for the Gold’ tournament, where the winner receives a title shot at the PPV against the Roulette Champion. Who knows, maybe neither of us will be in the tournament, I don’t care. I’m not in this company for title shots, Ryan Kidd is. I’m here to come out to the ring, get the job done, then go on back home. I do have dreams, although, the nightmares seem to be overshadowing them at the moment. The biggest dream I can hope for right now is to get a one-on-one against Drake Green, other than that the male roster is a trivial roster."

He forced a smile as the crowd made up their fickle minds and began with the booing again.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Is the male side of the company not a little lacklustre? It certainly is when you compare it to the bombshell division. If somebody like Ryan Kidd can be on the roster, what does it say to everybody watching at home? It’s embarrassing. Drake Green, on the other hand, is someone respected throughout this entire company. Mentioning his name can silence a room, just out of sheer respect for the man. If I were to get a taste of going against him, I wouldn’t leave everything to the last minute. Until then I can only dream. I do have the honor of opening the show very soon, as me and Kidd’s match will be the first of the night. Will the little squirt manage a victory over me? Who knows. I thought I’d let everybody out here know, including Drake Green, that I will not lay down so easily. I intend to be around for a long, long time. Right now, I am a man without a purpose, as I’ve already mentioned the titles do not interest me. A traveller waiting for some action, and if there isn’t any action, I’ll create it myself. Whether you’re Kidd, Equinox, Green, Rage, or some stupid fan, get used to seeing me around. Titles or no titles; tournament or no tournament. The spotlight is on me now, and I refuse to share it."

A thud creeped through the sound system as he dropped the microphone on the ring canvas. The crowd’s booing was drowned by the reemergence of his theme song as he exited the ring, smirking. He began ascending the ramp, having only a few minutes to get ready for his match. Gabriel didn’t know how to feel about his imminent opponent. Kidd had much promise but failed to reach the levels that was expected of him. Gabriel would be a new kind of level. It was about to be game over for one of them.

6
Climax Control Archives / Reconstructing Remedies
« on: August 02, 2014, 11:54:14 AM »
 
• Scene 1 •

How does a person recover after the foundations supporting their life shatter into a million pieces? For Gabriel, those pieces were scattered across the realms of public media, where everybody could witness him meticulously picking up each piece, trying to glue them back together. Nobody came marching into his precarious mind with a wrecking ball and crashing into conscious stability, in fact, it was he who had pressed the red button, initiating a self-demolition process. When the journey became uneventful and bleak, he liked to place potholes along the way to ensure the next morning would not be the same as the last, instead it would be far more bumpy. This detrimental road Gabriel built for himself eventually became too unstable for him to navigate across, however, he continued to do so. With every close friend he lost or every insult he received from one of the many people who hated him, he would insert another pothole. The stoic wheels of the overemotional ‘Dark Saint’ finally caved into the pressure of his problems and burst, sending his life spinning violently in the direction of the house only he was allowed to enter - his mind.

The tips of his fingers ran across jagged rock. The arid heat causing him to take a second to breathe, kneeling on the rubble before him. This was it. This was the perfect spot for him to talk about his upcoming match against Kris Halc. A somewhat silent breeze bathed his bare body, while a lone SCW cameraman kept his distance, recording the newest talent to join the company. Gabriel stood upon the mound of broken white rocks and dusted down his dirty jeans. His eyes searched the area ahead of him. Nothing. In the distance was a forest of dying trees, surrounded by a dried-up lake. It didn’t remotely interest him. He didn’t know it yet but he would find a piece of paper that captured his wandering interest. His outlook on life as he knew it would change.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"You might wonder why I am in the middle of nowhere, standing on broken rock. Well, Kris Halc, what stood before me was a gargantuan castle that was once professed to stand the tests of time. All things eventually die, and this structure was no different. I know everybody has witnessed my overt downfall as of late but I can assure you it was all self-inflicted. I’m guessing you’re questioning why would I be confident going into our match when I admit that I am a broken man, right? For me, the rebuilding process began long before my life had collapsed into the rubble like you see here. I planned my own demise and have happily allowed for the world and its curious eyes to keep a close eye on the life of Gabriel Asar. You’ve all been peering through a keyhole at the masterpiece I am constructing; you see what I want you to see. Soon, the bigger picture shall be revealed."

Gabriel bent back to one knee and dug his fingers into the heap of assorted stones and rock. The sounds of birds chirping around the forest in the horizon were the only noises around, until he stood back up with a handful of rocks clenched between his fists. His boots pressed firmly against the rubble, forcing out a muted crunch sound as the rocks compressed beneath his feet. He looked up at the indigo sky, the scorching heat refusing to leave, despite the sun beginning to set.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"The rocks within my hands are like the memories and failed relationships of my past. Every failure and every success is just a jagged pebble lost within a mountain of stones. The rebuilding of my life--my new career at Sin City Wrestling--began by me picking up the mess I had made, then putting it back together, piece by piece. I am happy to demolish the things I helped build, only to resurrect them into something better. Your career has unfortunately collapsed, much like mine. I’m not saying I’m a new man who has washed away his past and that we are both again starting from the bottom, I’m saying we both have the same tools at our disposal to rebuild the visions of our futures, the only difference is that my tools are far more experienced than yours.

I learn a lot from each person I come into contact with, and we have only spoken on Twitter for a short amount of time. What makes me such a dominant presence on Twitter is that I refuse to leave. Everybody and their crowds of friends watch me in the distance, yet somehow I still manage to make myself appear larger and louder than those crowds. You’re more like a field mouse darting between people’s feet, trying not to get stepped on. Whenever people used to mention Kris Halc, I honestly never knew who you were. I’ve heard of the companies you’ve worked for but your voice is as quiet as the cries of an abused child - you have no real conviction behind what you say. You’re too scared to stick your head out of the ground for too long, in fear of someone stepping on it. You’ve now joined SCW and I see you peeking out from your little, rat-like hiding place. I intend to be the thing you fear by stepping on your dreams and coming down upon you on you like, forgive the cliché, a ton of bricks."

Dropping the rocks, they crashed against the floor’s surface, echoing a hailstorm of muffled thuds. The faintest of breezes swept any wandering sand-like particles up to his face, obscuring his vision. He looked down while rubbing his eyes and noticed piece of maroon paper half-covered in dirt and stone. Gabriel wasn’t one for believing in signs or any supernatural garbage but he paused momentarily and watched the piece of paper. There was something charming about about the way it moved; it danced against the breeze, drawing in his innate curiosity. Using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead, he tried to ignore the piece of paper for now and continue his speech. His eyes made their way back to the direction of the camera.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"So, Kris, what I’m getting at is it’s pointless you trying to build a future at Sin City Wrestling. There’s a long line to the top, and guess what, you’re not in it. You’ve only been in this business for a short time and you’ve rebuilt and rebranded yourself more times than I care to even think about. You’re a labourer, not a wrestler. You’re not serious about this business, hell, you go by the nickname the Ace of Clubs. You might think this is a game, and yes SCW is situated in Las Vegas where you can play all the games you want, you just can’t play games in the ring. Want to know where your career will inevitably end up?"

He extended his arm and pointed toward the derelict forrest. The brittle branches hung down, almost like the trees were weeping to the melancholic melody the birds sang for them. No matter how hard or loud the birds sang, the trees were dying and would soon end up like the dry remnants of the lake that circled the forest. The SCW cameraman followed Gabriel’s finger and gazed the camera at the decrepit site. Gabriel’s eyes again looked down at the piece of maroon paper. Golden letters were imprinted into its surface. His eyes narrowed and he could see the words ‘Use your mind.’ It’s a sign, he thought to himself, but what was it?

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"It’s a sign.”

With his hand and the camera still pointed toward the forest, he tried to steady himself and remain focused. He shook his head, swallowed a dry lump that had formed within his throat, then looked back to the weeping trees.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Uh, it’s a sign that you, uhm--It’s a sign that your dreams will undoubtedly end up like that forest. At one time it was filled with color and promise, only to be subjected to the harsh reality of life. Everything dies. The colors of the rainbow painted themselves across the landscape as the trees stood proud and the river swayed to the mellifluous praises of the animals that lived there. Life isn’t a fairytale and, just like beauty that once lived in that forest, your fantasies about becoming one of the best superstars that has ever graced this company is going to come to an abrupt end.”

He snapped his fingers, forcing the attention of the cameraman to swivel back around and refocus on him. The orbish sun loomed in the horizon, the air becoming cooler.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I’ve seen many sunrises and sunsets in the world of wrestling. New faces make themselves known, they stir up a little trouble, and then they disappear. You either stand out or you get lost within the crowd of uncreative losers. I plan on seeing many more sunrises, I think it’s about time you let your sun set."

Nodding to the cameraman, the camera was switched off. The corners of Gabriel’s lips twisted into a slanted smirk as he rubbed the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth. After explaining to the SCW cameraman that he was going to stay behind a little while, Gabriel scurried back over the rubble he just gave his speech upon and dropped to his knees. He snatched the maroon paper from the grasps of the stones, then pulled it close to his face. His eyes searched the paper as the remaining dirt slid from its surface and on to Gabriel’s jeans. ‘Use your mind, not your body’ etched itself in gold ink along the paper’s surface. An address was printed at the bottom of the paper.


• Scene 2 •

The raven-haired PA tucked her chin inwards and glanced over the top of her glasses, fixing her eyes on to a man in torn, blue jeans and a white t-shirt. His fingertips ran through his scruffy, short hair and he caught her peeking from the corner of his eye. Her head dropped back to the paperwork on her desk. The man sighed in his seat, looking at a small table filled with newspapers and magazines at arms length from him.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Excuse me. When will I be seen?"

«: Jenny Bloom;
the PA :»
"Shěn Sensei will see you shortly, Mr. Asar."

He let out another undisguised sigh as he folded his arms. Last night he had spent hours looking at the paper he found while shooting a promo. Toying with it in his hand, debating whether or not to contact the company. Eventually he did, leading him to booking an appointment and ending up in a waiting room that had the uncanny resemblance to that of a dentist’s. Gabriel didn’t believe in signs, but he believed in this one.

Fidgeting in the chair--crossing his legs, unfolding them, then repeating the process over the course of twenty minutes--the nerves were starting to nibble at his patience. Never one for enjoying long waiting times, his knees bounced up and down while he chewed at his thumbnail. A sharp buzzing noise reverberated through the empty, beige room.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Bring him in, dear. Please, make sure he is ready."

«: Jenny Bloom;
the PA :»
"Shěn Sensei will see you now. Follow me."

The PA stood from her seat and walked around her desk to a door labeled ‘Office.’ The plastic sign was held in place by sellotape. Gabriel got to his feet and breathed a relieving sigh. As he approached the woman, her hands planted themselves onto his shoulders, spinning him around and forcing his back to press against the door. Her vanilla scent lingered under his nose as she pointed chin next to his neck. Her crimson lips whispered into his ear, her warm breath tickling it.

«: Jenny Bloom;
the PA :»
"Kiss me."

She brought her head back, gazing at him with emerald eyes. Her white blouse, black skirt, and coquettish presence mimicked that of a personal assistant, but this she was like no other he had come across before. He visited this place to find answers as to what the sign was and if it had anything to do with his upcoming match, not be seduced. Still, the twenty-something woman did attract him. His lip quivered with anxiety and he closed his eyes, leaning toward her. While his lips were pursed, she placed a hand onto his chest and the other on the door handle. Gabriel heard the handle snap down. The door gave way as she pushed him into the room and slammed the door shut, leaving him in a room void of light.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"What’s going on!?"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Settle down. Settle down."

The man’s voice creeked like an archaic door with every word he spoke. Light flooded the room as the unidentified man clapped his hands, turning the lighting on. Gabriel’s eyes squinted while his forearm covered his face.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"I am Shěn Sensei. We have an appointment, do we not? I cannot talk to a man cowering on the floor. Stand up and take a seat."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Your assistant tried to--"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"To kiss you? And how did you do?"

The old man, dressed in a purple robe, pressed the intercom button on his otherwise empty desk. Assessing his surroundings, Gabriel got to his feet, taking note of the claustrophobic room he was in. The man wore a white ponytail with what little hair remained on his head and a matching goatee. Filing cabinets and shelves of open boxes with paper hanging from them filled the room. In the center of the small cupboard he found himself in sat a brown desk, with a chair either side. The intercom buzzed and the assistant’s voice came through.

«: Jenny Bloom;
the PA :»
"He failed."

The cackled laughter of the old man irritated Gabriel. He leaned back into his chair, motioning his hand to the one opposite him on the other side of the table.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Younglings these days. How do you expect to defeat Kris Halc when you give in so easily to temptation? Now sit. We should have started already.”

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"How do you know about Kris Halc?"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"My daughter, the woman you just met, informed me of your upcoming match. You are here to train your mind, therefore I feel obliged to ascertain knowledge of your opponents."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Your daughter!? Also, I’m not here for help on defeating Kris, I can do that on my own. This is a sign, tell me why I’ve been led here."

Gabriel dug a hand into the back of his jean’s pocket and pulled out the maroon paper, slamming it onto the man’s desk, Gabriel then folded his arms.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"My dear boy, this isn’t a sign. This is a flier advertising this business. We help people overcome mental obstacles. As for my daughter, she does that with every person I see. How else am I doing to see if they have what it takes to resist temptation? Where did you receive this flier?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I found it up at the castle ruins, five minutes down the road. I’ve been up all night thinking it’s some sort of omen regarding my match."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Ha, how naive. My daughter probably dropped it on one of her expeditions. She takes photos of relics and ruins, all that mumbo-jumbo."

Biting down on his bottom lip, Gabriel shook his head in disappointment.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"You mean to tell me I wasn’t drawn here by some mystical sign? I’m leaving. This is bullshi--"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"You’ve made the effort to come here, you might as well stay. It is clear to me you are impetuous, hot-tempered, and have no self-control. Your ego has knitted you a blanket of delusion that you’re content in wrapping yourself in. Please, for the last time, I implore you to sit."

Taking in a deep breath, his head continued to shake. What’s the worst that could happen? He thought to himself. Gabriel’s arms untangled themselves and he reached for the empty chair. He didn’t know if it was either the closet or the man that smelled like one-hundred-year-old potatoes. Gabriel seated himself, resting his elbows on the wooden arms of the chair, then floated his eyesight around the room.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Stop forming opinions. Relax. I teach people to control their thoughts and emotions, to become one with themselves. Your body appears to be in good shape. Your mind is not in good shape."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Is this some kind of scam? Has Kris somehow put you up to this?"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"You’re asking me if Kris Halc, your opponent, asked me to devise a plan where I place a flier in some ramshackle ruins on the off chance you might happen to wander across it? You can’t form judgements when your judgement is clouded. Calm yourself and speak with me. There is no proverbial judge here, it is just you and I. Now, tell me, what were you doing at the ruins?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I was filming something for Sin City Wrestling. I addressed Kris and explained why he has no future within the company. Standard stuff."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Oh dear. Every wrestler I have ever spoken with tells me how they are the undiscovered fountains of youth that will dominate their way to the top. I am very well aware of your credentials, though, I assumed you wouldn’t follow the path every other person takes. You cannot enter a company and command respect--you can if you want people to respect you for a short time, only to revolt when your back is turned--you need give people a reason to respect you. Kris Halc and yourself, no matter how respected you were in other companies, are fresh faces at SCW.

Together your journeys shall start on the plains many before you have set foot on and, in due time, your paths will separate. There is only enough room for one of you at the top, both of you proclaiming the other isn’t worthy. Like a hare, you both shall only see what is in front of you, dashing forward with your tongues flailing everywhere, your eyes on the prize. What neither of you see is the tortoise that takes its time. It moves slow but it never makes a mistake, unlike the hare. The hare, you see, is impetuous, much like yourself. It falls into traps, misses the checkpoints explaining which path to take, and it exhausts itself of energy. While the hare regains its energy and sleep, you can bet the tortoise is arduously catching up. Eventually the tortoise begins to take a lead in the race. Which of these two animals would you like to be in life?"

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"The tortoise, obviously."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"But what happens when the hare awakens, feeling refreshed? It regains the lead once again."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I meant the hare. I’m definitely the hare."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"How fickle. You, Kris, and any other newcomers to SCW will all begin lives as the hare. All will fall short of the finish line, drained because of wasted energy. The trick is to possess the speed of the hare and the patience of the tortoise. Be aware of your surroundings."

Gabriel’s tongue pressed against his inner cheek while he nodded to what the old man was saying. He didn’t want to admit it but he had been doing a lot of talking and not enough listening. Overconfidence can be a dangerous trait, especially when it is wielded by the hands of the inexperienced. Gabriel had experience, just not in SCW. His attention was again summoned by the words of Shěn Sensei.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Let me ask you one final question: is there anybody you admire within the new company you have found yourself in?"

Pausing in breath, Gabriel thought about it as the man’s creaking voice settled. He had been too wrapped up in his ego to even begin thinking about other people. Silence ensued as Gabriel thought about it for a minute.

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"Misty is one of the most inspiring women I have ever laid eyes upon. A single mother who doesn’t have custody of her child but still manages to put on a show for the fans. I’ve always felt like life doesn’t care about me, but I still fight on - and then I saw Misty. She’s the female equivalent of my emotions, especially the depressive ones. She courageously continues to be at the top of her game, despite fighting her own inner conflicts.  

Amy Marshall has this big “fuck you” printed on her forehead. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her, nor does she care for their rules. She plays her own game, anyone trying to get in her way gets trod on. I could learn from her - not caring so much about what my opponents think of me. Unlike the quiet Kris, I tend to lash out at people who direct the most harmless of insults at me.

Then there’s Roxi who is kind to everyone. I’ve never met someone who goes out of their way to make people’s lives more bearable. The Mean Girls are nothing like her but I could even learn things from them. People like Liz and Delia have nestled themselves in a group that protects each member like it is their own child."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Precisely. Be the tortoise and stick around those people for a while, learn from them. Then become the hare and take the breadth of knowledge you will have acquired with you to heights never reached before. There is one person you never mentioned about respecting. You can be inspired by the people you have mentioned but it is only you who has to face Kris Halc."

«: GABRIEL ASAR;
the Dark Saint :»
"I don’t know. His optimism about wanting to be something in the wrestling world is kind of admirable. Also, he doesn’t exactly cheat to win but he isn’t afraid to do whatever it takes to get that victory. For a guy without much physical presence in the ring, he sure does go out there and give it his all, regardless of the size of his opponent."

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"There you go. Talking to someone more enlightened than yourself can only benefit you on your journey. Don’t be the egotistical and cocky Gabriel who whines when he doesn’t get his own way. Respecting your opponent is not a weakness; it means you have learned to respect yourself.

That about wraps it up, I’m afraid. You have been an excellent listener and I am certain you will accomplish whatever it is you wish to achieve. Close the door on the way out and don’t forget to pay Jenny, my daughter.”

Gabriel planted his feet on the floor and slid the chair backwards before standing up. He thanked Shěn Sensei, profusely. From their short time together, he had learned a lot. After the shaking of hands, Gabriel left the closet and paid the PA who winked at him. He was too lost within his own thoughts to notice. The intercom buzzed.

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"Is he gone?"

«: Jenny Bloom;
the PA :»
"He paid and left. Which story did you give him?"

«: Shěn Sensei;
the Wise One :»
"The tortoise and the hare, it gets them every time. You were correct in saying about his gullibility. Good work - and remember to keep sprinkling those fliers around, darling."


• Epilogue •

Gabriel’s deep breathing grasped the air, forcing it down into his tight throat. Sweat trickled down his forehead, neck, and back. The overconfident newcomer had learned to trade some of his confidence for pensiveness, something he hadn’t done much before a huge match. His debut was imminent. His friends would look on in hope, others praying for his untimely demise. He bounced on the balls of his feet, staring at the ink-black curtain ahead of him. The crowd’s thunderous roars rumbled through him, shaking the foundations of the building. It was time to step out on to the stage, prove himself to his peers, and begin building a new life for himself - brick by brick, match after match. “I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin flooded through the sound system, sending a sharp pain of pre-match nerves through his stomach. A long exhaled breath escaped his mouth as his fingertips wrapped themselves around the opening of the curtains. He tore them apart and stepped into the light.

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