Uncaged: The Hand of Fate
Jan 21, 2020 23:49:04 GMT -5
Psycho Vulcan Sentai (Kaz), Addy A, and 2 more like this
Post by VHS on Jan 21, 2020 23:49:04 GMT -5
We booked adjoining rooms this tour. Such a weird vulnerability. It’s...just...so...out of character for me to trust like this. Yet, here I am. Here we are. A team. United. Renting adjoining hotel rooms…
I heard him rush out again in the early dawn hours. When I heard him leave, the angry looking alarm clock on my room’s bedside table screamed out in bright red letters: 4AM. I didn’t bother following this time. The more we travel together, the more I have come to expect his sudden departure, and the more I’ve come to accept that sometime...sooner than later, really...I will see his face.
When he bolted out of his room last night, I didn’t just lay there. I got up, and opened my side of our adjoined doors, I found that he’d left his open last night. I couldn’t resist the temptation; I had to look inside.
That was where I found it...the mask.
____________________________________________
It’s come to this, huh? Me and SVS are tasked with taking you crazy girls to you own private Jonestown? We get to be the reason the HaVeN freak flag flies at half-staff. We can give you a 10-bell-salute, play taps or just give them a quick moment of silence, but somebody better ask what you prefer for the post-mortem honorarium before you come to the ring, given that your walk to the ring will be the last thing you do before you commit the strangest ritualistic suicide since the Kool-Aid Man took a South American vacay.
The two of you are just walking stereotypes though. I mean, isn’t it always the leaders who profit while the cultists who follow them suffer? Phoenix. Come on. You’re perfect, pretty. You got the whole eye candy thing going for you, BUUUUUUUUUUUUUT you keep your girl in a cage. That’s not “NOT-A-CULT” behavior. You two can be as upset as you want to be, but it’s high time HaVeN starts looking for their perfect little commune somewhere in Guyana.
And I know you two are all butt hurt about the implication that HaVeN is a cult. You want us all to think it’s some sort of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, but it’s as clear as day: HaVeN is right out of the Allison Mack guidebook for building your modern day sex slave army. I can’t pull punches just to be nice, girls. VHS isn’t sorry for what VHS has to say about the creepy shit HaVeN is up to. Playing nice with cultists is how you get more cultists. To be blunt, Vulcan and I are going to make it look pretty damn unappealing to be a cultist.
Look, girls, this mission isn’t just about beating you and breaking that spell you have over impressionable young women the world over...it’s about THE HAND OF FATE being the first to hold those new Cruiserweight Tag Titles high in the air. It’s about proving to the world...TO MYSELF!...that Vulcan and VHS can succeed with this united front. That we are better as allies than enemies. That trust has rewards. That’s what’s on the line at Revolution. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some Branch Davidian rip offs turn me and Vulcan into just another Waco. It’s not happening this week. It’s not happening ever.
____________________________________________
I knew it was wrong for me to invade his privacy like this. Sun Vulcan was so protective of his…well, his everything. Yet here I was traipsing into his space like some sort of animal in the night.
The mask just had too strong of a grip on my mind. That’s when it clicked. His mask is no more a choice for Sun Vulcan than being in Pandora’s cage is for anyone trapped inside it. Sun Vulcan’s mask is his cage. Somehow, there is something that drives him to place it over his face day after day after day, and despite the fact that nothing is forcing him, it’s not his choice to put it on. Sun Vulcan exists within the confines of a cage.
I can’t let Pandora or Phoenix make his metaphorical cage a literal one.
I heard him rush out again in the early dawn hours. When I heard him leave, the angry looking alarm clock on my room’s bedside table screamed out in bright red letters: 4AM. I didn’t bother following this time. The more we travel together, the more I have come to expect his sudden departure, and the more I’ve come to accept that sometime...sooner than later, really...I will see his face.
When he bolted out of his room last night, I didn’t just lay there. I got up, and opened my side of our adjoined doors, I found that he’d left his open last night. I couldn’t resist the temptation; I had to look inside.
That was where I found it...the mask.
____________________________________________
It’s come to this, huh? Me and SVS are tasked with taking you crazy girls to you own private Jonestown? We get to be the reason the HaVeN freak flag flies at half-staff. We can give you a 10-bell-salute, play taps or just give them a quick moment of silence, but somebody better ask what you prefer for the post-mortem honorarium before you come to the ring, given that your walk to the ring will be the last thing you do before you commit the strangest ritualistic suicide since the Kool-Aid Man took a South American vacay.
The two of you are just walking stereotypes though. I mean, isn’t it always the leaders who profit while the cultists who follow them suffer? Phoenix. Come on. You’re perfect, pretty. You got the whole eye candy thing going for you, BUUUUUUUUUUUUUT you keep your girl in a cage. That’s not “NOT-A-CULT” behavior. You two can be as upset as you want to be, but it’s high time HaVeN starts looking for their perfect little commune somewhere in Guyana.
And I know you two are all butt hurt about the implication that HaVeN is a cult. You want us all to think it’s some sort of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, but it’s as clear as day: HaVeN is right out of the Allison Mack guidebook for building your modern day sex slave army. I can’t pull punches just to be nice, girls. VHS isn’t sorry for what VHS has to say about the creepy shit HaVeN is up to. Playing nice with cultists is how you get more cultists. To be blunt, Vulcan and I are going to make it look pretty damn unappealing to be a cultist.
Look, girls, this mission isn’t just about beating you and breaking that spell you have over impressionable young women the world over...it’s about THE HAND OF FATE being the first to hold those new Cruiserweight Tag Titles high in the air. It’s about proving to the world...TO MYSELF!...that Vulcan and VHS can succeed with this united front. That we are better as allies than enemies. That trust has rewards. That’s what’s on the line at Revolution. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some Branch Davidian rip offs turn me and Vulcan into just another Waco. It’s not happening this week. It’s not happening ever.
____________________________________________
I knew it was wrong for me to invade his privacy like this. Sun Vulcan was so protective of his…well, his everything. Yet here I was traipsing into his space like some sort of animal in the night.
The mask just had too strong of a grip on my mind. That’s when it clicked. His mask is no more a choice for Sun Vulcan than being in Pandora’s cage is for anyone trapped inside it. Sun Vulcan’s mask is his cage. Somehow, there is something that drives him to place it over his face day after day after day, and despite the fact that nothing is forcing him, it’s not his choice to put it on. Sun Vulcan exists within the confines of a cage.
I can’t let Pandora or Phoenix make his metaphorical cage a literal one.