Post by thrashmetaldan on Sept 21, 2012 8:23:32 GMT -6
Rain begins to pour down Damien’s face as he stares out across the D.C. landscape. The last few days have been torrential around his area of town, and he’s wearing a large black trench coat. He doesn’t even seem to notice the moisture as he marches on. There’s a stern set to his face, and he seems as determined as ever. Out in the distance, a large gym comes into view. He passes through the doorway and out of the rain. Typically, this area is flooded with guests, fans, and hard working athletes, but the bad weather seems to have kept all but one other away. Damien watches his footsteps carefully, making sure to muffle his strides as much as possible. From the shadows, he stands motionless, and watches the man across the gym; hard at work on the heavy bags.
The man’s style drastically differs from his own, far less speed, and maybe a bit less precision, but with more than enough power to compensate for both. With every strike he throws, his Olympian shoulders shudder and flex, and the bag reverberates wildly. One stray haymaker on Friday, and Damien would be out cold. Not that he didn’t already know that, but it was wise to remind himself with this physical demonstration of the kind of power he was facing. Dylan was a rhinoceros. But Damien had become an animal himself training for this day. Not one that could be properly clarified by a natural analogy, but definitely something primal. Elemental, even. The fury inside of him may have been instilled by his stepfather, but it had become an integral piece of his own identity now. The hate was like an imbedded weapon. And one that could turn lethal at the drop of a hat.
He could never thank Alexi enough for the opportunity to join with him. It opened avenues he couldn’t even have dreamed of before. But it came with a price: “Tone down your violent streak”. Last week hadn’t been difficult. He’d caught Mahoney off guard. He may have even set some kind of record for shortest match in history. No need to grow more savage there. But if he had to grow more wicked to beat The Predator...well, Alexi would have to understand. There’s more at stake than before. More at stake than a title. Hell, more at stake than a legacy. This was what he had been training for. Since the moment he first laced up a pair of boots, Damien had daydreamed about it.
But this week...Alexi had a plan. One which had left a poor taste in Damien’s mouth when he had first heard it. One that was for the greater glory of the New Church, and not for his own personal gain. But one that Alexi assured Damien would pay off for him in the end. For now, he would trust his friend. Friend. That word seemed odd, even in the recesses of his own mind. He hadn’t had many. He’d ended up betraying almost everyone who had trusted him over the years. But this was more than a temporary alliance. Alexi genuinely seemed to trust him, despite all of his flaws. That was new. This plan would be difficult for Damien, but what are friends for?
Dylan’s workout begins to intensify. He grabs one of the loose heavy bags over in the corner, and begins practicing his slams. Even against the tremendous dead weight, his power is unbelievable. The entire ring reverberates with each maneuver, honed to an art form, by the crafty veteran. Sometimes, when Damien had watched him in the past, he seemed overly passionate. Too concerned with playing to his beloved crowd. But now, when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, he seemed serene. Like this was his catharsis. He knew the feeling. Like your whole world was contained in that square, bound inside by the ropes, with your feelings and regrets a distant memory.
What challenges would this titan truly present him with? The size advantage certainly, but Damien had more than prepared for that. The intangible and legendary grit was the only aspect of the coming days which really concerned him. Would he be able to put him away? He would need to more than once. The larger scope of his plans wouldn’t come to fruition with a single match. This would be a chess match. But right now, it was one Dylan didn’t even know they were playing, and Damien had thought three moves ahead.
As he continues watching the champion’s training session, a glare on a shelf catches his eye. When he carefully moves over to investigate, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes it’s a glass picture frame. Inside, there’s a small photo, almost unrecognizable in the dim light. But when Damien picks it up, he can make out the image. It seems to be a man in his 40s, hugging a teenage boy wearing coconut headgear and a singlet. The boy is holding a small medallion for first place. It seems to be a middle school wrestling tournament. The man looks so...proud.
All at once, Damien feels the twitch surging in his cheek. Rage and jealously pour into him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he throws the picture as hard as he can, and not even hearing it shatter, or turning to see The Predator’s surprise, he sprints, long and hard as he can away from the gym. Out through the maelstrom raging outside he toils, running for as long as his legs will carry him.
Consciously, he knew he shouldn’t be risking a cold, but staying would been risking something far worse. He couldn’t confront those emotions right now. He had to put them to death for the time being. So he kept running. And running. Off, deeper into the night...and the depths of his own twisted mind.
"Pawn to A4"
The man’s style drastically differs from his own, far less speed, and maybe a bit less precision, but with more than enough power to compensate for both. With every strike he throws, his Olympian shoulders shudder and flex, and the bag reverberates wildly. One stray haymaker on Friday, and Damien would be out cold. Not that he didn’t already know that, but it was wise to remind himself with this physical demonstration of the kind of power he was facing. Dylan was a rhinoceros. But Damien had become an animal himself training for this day. Not one that could be properly clarified by a natural analogy, but definitely something primal. Elemental, even. The fury inside of him may have been instilled by his stepfather, but it had become an integral piece of his own identity now. The hate was like an imbedded weapon. And one that could turn lethal at the drop of a hat.
He could never thank Alexi enough for the opportunity to join with him. It opened avenues he couldn’t even have dreamed of before. But it came with a price: “Tone down your violent streak”. Last week hadn’t been difficult. He’d caught Mahoney off guard. He may have even set some kind of record for shortest match in history. No need to grow more savage there. But if he had to grow more wicked to beat The Predator...well, Alexi would have to understand. There’s more at stake than before. More at stake than a title. Hell, more at stake than a legacy. This was what he had been training for. Since the moment he first laced up a pair of boots, Damien had daydreamed about it.
But this week...Alexi had a plan. One which had left a poor taste in Damien’s mouth when he had first heard it. One that was for the greater glory of the New Church, and not for his own personal gain. But one that Alexi assured Damien would pay off for him in the end. For now, he would trust his friend. Friend. That word seemed odd, even in the recesses of his own mind. He hadn’t had many. He’d ended up betraying almost everyone who had trusted him over the years. But this was more than a temporary alliance. Alexi genuinely seemed to trust him, despite all of his flaws. That was new. This plan would be difficult for Damien, but what are friends for?
Dylan’s workout begins to intensify. He grabs one of the loose heavy bags over in the corner, and begins practicing his slams. Even against the tremendous dead weight, his power is unbelievable. The entire ring reverberates with each maneuver, honed to an art form, by the crafty veteran. Sometimes, when Damien had watched him in the past, he seemed overly passionate. Too concerned with playing to his beloved crowd. But now, when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, he seemed serene. Like this was his catharsis. He knew the feeling. Like your whole world was contained in that square, bound inside by the ropes, with your feelings and regrets a distant memory.
What challenges would this titan truly present him with? The size advantage certainly, but Damien had more than prepared for that. The intangible and legendary grit was the only aspect of the coming days which really concerned him. Would he be able to put him away? He would need to more than once. The larger scope of his plans wouldn’t come to fruition with a single match. This would be a chess match. But right now, it was one Dylan didn’t even know they were playing, and Damien had thought three moves ahead.
As he continues watching the champion’s training session, a glare on a shelf catches his eye. When he carefully moves over to investigate, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes it’s a glass picture frame. Inside, there’s a small photo, almost unrecognizable in the dim light. But when Damien picks it up, he can make out the image. It seems to be a man in his 40s, hugging a teenage boy wearing coconut headgear and a singlet. The boy is holding a small medallion for first place. It seems to be a middle school wrestling tournament. The man looks so...proud.
All at once, Damien feels the twitch surging in his cheek. Rage and jealously pour into him like a tidal wave. Without thinking, he throws the picture as hard as he can, and not even hearing it shatter, or turning to see The Predator’s surprise, he sprints, long and hard as he can away from the gym. Out through the maelstrom raging outside he toils, running for as long as his legs will carry him.
Consciously, he knew he shouldn’t be risking a cold, but staying would been risking something far worse. He couldn’t confront those emotions right now. He had to put them to death for the time being. So he kept running. And running. Off, deeper into the night...and the depths of his own twisted mind.
"Pawn to A4"
