Post by (Temorarily) haVoc on Jan 9, 2022 14:37:12 GMT -5
Dark Kent sits in front of dozens of boxed television sets from an archaic age before his time: the eighties. He remembers watching Saturday morning cartoons before football practice on a television set just like any of these, but he couldn't pin-point which one it was, exactly. But there was something about the running static that calmed him, that felt supernatural, like he could leap straight into the television and be anybody he wanted to be.
Just as he did when he was a young boy, admiring the costumes and the array of gadgets and weapons his heroes wielded, he felt one day he could be just like them. But he couldn't identify with any of them, because he saw peach-toned skin poking through all of their masks.
And it angered him.
- Why isn't anyone like me? -
Heroes don't exist.
Not in fiction, not in fantasy, and not in life.
Everyone in Action Wrestling is in it for themselves. There is no honor to be found in a house of wolves - if CruiserHavoc was any indication, your heroes are determined to prove their superiority, and to hell with who crumbles in their wake.
Even Olympians - humanity's equivalent to live-action superheros walking the earth. The best athletes in the world gather in the biggest host city, playing games, dueling until one can own a piece of jewelry for the rest of their lives. They say they are playing for their country, that they've become the best version of themselves, a premiere athlete and a spokesman and a role model - but isn't it all just a facade for what they seek the most? The individual glory.
Where is the courage in Karlie Nash?
She's devoid of courage. Of integrity. She is a shameful ambassador for Action Wrestling, and for the United States if her extracurricular sexual proclivities are any indication. She won that medal, she scratched it with her incisors, biting down until her tooth chipped -
Dark Kent drives his elbow backward into the closest television set. The screen splinters, before shards cascade like a waterfall, bouncing off the cement below. He fixes his collar, running his fingers along his fade, as if he hadn't just broken one of the screens.
- I want her teeth broken. How Action Wrestling can get behind a homewrecking hussy for doing the unthinkable, for performing better than she's ever performed before - it defies logic. It defies reason.
And I stand to correct what Action Wrestling allowed her to do. To bask in her run to runner-up at the Rumble, the bridesmaid she will forever be because no one in their right mind would every marry that Minnesota-Seven with a beat up snatch -
Dark Kent covers his mouth.
Superheroes don't speak like that.
I need Karlie Nash to know that lying and cheating and stealing her way to a half-dozen tag team championships and not even being proud of a single one does not an Action Wrestling hero make. She may show disdain for this organization and everyone who purchases a ticket, but I think it's all an act. She was basking in those cheers. She was engaging with the support. But she is no one to idolize. No one to emulate.
NO ONE.
Dark Kent slams his forehead straight into a television screen. Slowly pulling a shard of glass out of the bridge of his nose, he turns to the camera with a blood-soaked grin.
And Romeo...
...my brother.
Dark Kent is interrupted by a heavy footstep which causes the television sets to flicker. One by one, the white noise and static of the television sets turn black. He gets a wide look of worry on his face.
What the hell is going on down here??
I'm busy!
You broke my screens??
DAD! GET OUT!
Fade to black.
And I stand to correct what Action Wrestling allowed her to do. To bask in her run to runner-up at the Rumble, the bridesmaid she will forever be because no one in their right mind would every marry that Minnesota-Seven with a beat up snatch -
Dark Kent covers his mouth.
I need Karlie Nash to know that lying and cheating and stealing her way to a half-dozen tag team championships and not even being proud of a single one does not an Action Wrestling hero make. She may show disdain for this organization and everyone who purchases a ticket, but I think it's all an act. She was basking in those cheers. She was engaging with the support. But she is no one to idolize. No one to emulate.
NO ONE.
Dark Kent slams his forehead straight into a television screen. Slowly pulling a shard of glass out of the bridge of his nose, he turns to the camera with a blood-soaked grin.
And Romeo...
...my brother.
Dark Kent is interrupted by a heavy footstep which causes the television sets to flicker. One by one, the white noise and static of the television sets turn black. He gets a wide look of worry on his face.
What the hell is going on down here??
I'm busy!
You broke my screens??
DAD! GET OUT!
Fade to black.
