The Sins of the Father [4000 Words]
Mar 6, 2020 11:30:04 GMT -5
Lissie Hope, Addy A, and 3 more like this
Post by James Nightingale on Mar 6, 2020 11:30:04 GMT -5
The Night of Rush
Rural Wyoming, having fled the abandoned hospital where he had disposed of Sam Kidsgrove, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon; James Nightingale is walking down a long country road, injured and tired. He notices in the distance a bar, ‘Colters’. It’s big, bright neon sign providing the only light except for the moon in the isolated surrounding.
Nightingale thinks to himself. “My god I would kill for a Jack and Coke.”
He pauses as he is about to enter ‘Colters’, noticing his reflection in the glass, a blood stained face from his brutal war with Kidsgrove.
Still thinking to himself. “Fuck I ain’t gonna get served if I look like shit.”
He notices a small water butt and hobbles over, rinsing off his face. He proceeds to enter ‘Colters’.
The bar is virtually empty, a young energetic barman, Johnny, stands behind the bar. Perched up on a stool is Frank, a half drunk local, who is blissfully downing cold ones whilst watching Rush on PPV on a screen above the bar. Nightingale hobbles into the bar, and takes a seat at the counter.
Johnny, energetically asks, despite it being dead. “Welcome to Colters, what can I get for you?”
“Jack and Coke, make it a double, it’s been a long ass night.”
Johnny pauses from mixing the drink, and tries to counsel Nightingale. “You OK there buddy? You look like you’ve had a rough one.”
Nightingale, beginning to look impatient. “I’m good, just need that drink…”
Johnny begins mixing again “OK friend I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.” After a moment Johnny brings Nightingale his drink. “Well that will be 9 bucks.”
Nightingale feels for his wallet, but quickly remembers that he left it with the rest of his gear back at the arena. He closes his eyes in frustration. “God dammit, ugh… would you by chance accept PayPal?”
Johnny looks confused, suddenly Frank puts his hand up. “It’s OK Johnny put it on my tab! It’s not everyday that we have someone as famous as James Nightingale walk into the bar!”
Johnny still looks confused. “Who?”
Frank, gestures injecting a syringe into his neck. “Come on Johnny, this is the guy from the PPV who earlier in the night stabbed that actor in the neck and left him for dead!”
Johnny, quickly realising. “Oh shit, you're that crazy dude from England!” He slides Nightingale his drink.
Nightingale picks up the glass, and nods to Frank, thanking him. He takes a sip. “Damn, tastes like Heaven. And yes I’m James Nightingale, the crazy dude from England who stabbed Sam Kidsgrove in the neck with a lethal dose of insulin… and tied him up and left him for dead… oh and also left his mates there to die too.”
Johnny, looking at Nightingale in awe. “Well I’ll be damned this night just got more interesting ain’t it Frank. Hey my cousin Billy says that wrestling is a load of fake shit. But heck your pretty darn beat up.”
Nightingale, takes another sip whilst looking at Johnny a bit more intensely. “Does it look fake? Do these scars on my face look fake? Did the fear in those men’s faces as I condemned them to death look fake!”
Frank pipes up again. “Shut up Johnny! This guy is a crazy son of a gun. You know he beat the tar out of that girl from the TV, ah shit Sally watches it, um The New Girl, yes that’s it, I think she’s called Katie Perry?”
Nightingale takes another sip. “Zooey Deschanel”
Frank, shouting. “Zooey Deschanel!! that’s it, Zooey Deschanel. You see Johnny, this crazy dude here choked out this Zooey girl, it was almost erotic, well y’know I thought it was. Anyway he did it without hesitation. He is one crazy fucker!”
Johnny begins to look nervous, he starts to look under the bar for his baseball bat, he slowly reaches for it.
Nightingale has already noticed what Johnny is up to, however still enjoys his drink. “Johnny please don’t do anything stupid, I ain’t here for trouble, I’m just enjoying my drink. But if you swing that bat at me, I’m gonna have to put you down like poor Sam and Zooey, you understand me son?”
Johnny nods, and puts the bat down. “Yes sir!”
Nightingale, necks the last bit of his drink and puts the glass down. “You got any fags?”
Johnny looks confused. “Sorry, but this isn’t that kind of bar.”
Nightingale rolls his eyes. “Fuck sake, I’m not gay, I want a cigarette, does anyone have a bloody cigarette.”
Frank slides a pack down the bar and a zippo lighter. “Help yourself.”
Nightingale quickly pulls out a cigarette and lights it up, he takes a long drag and exhales in relief. “Fuck me that’s good… thank you Frank.”
Frank shuffles up next to Nightingale and leans in close. “So they’ve just announced on the show the XIII card, what’s your game plan?”
Nightingale, unaware of the card. “Frank, I ain’t got a clue what you're talking about, I ain’t seen the card, was too busy breaking shit. But seeing how I’ve been booked lately, I just presumed I wouldn’t be on it.”
Frank, looking like he’s just broken bad news. “Oh shit sorry to tell you James but you have a match... with Crow McMorris!”
Nightingale begins laughing to himself. “Corey Black you mother fucker… pay back for Revolution 3 I presume.”
Johnny, still trying to be involved with a conversation he knows nothing about. “Who? Crow who? Who’s that?”
Frank, looks up at Johnny “Crow McMorris, you know that big son of a bitch who teamed up with the black guy to win the tag titles earlier!”
Johnny, standing back in surprise. “Oh shit dude, he’s one big ass warrior looking dude! Are you scared?”
Nightingale takes another drag of his cigarette and turns to Frank. “Damn, black guy?… shit I forgot I am in rural America, clearly that’s still a thing here... he’s called KOS.”
He exhales and turns back to Johnny. “And am I scared? Fuck no! He’s some part timer who steps in and out when he pleases, the guy has had just three bloody matches in Action Wrestling! He acts like he’s the dog's bollocks, in reality he’s just another relic from UCI and WCF living on former glory. He is built like a brick shit house and walks around thinking he’s immortal yet in really he’s only here because his Granddad still has some pull in this business, and a large fucking cheque book that has been paying for his Grandsons hobbies.”
He takes another drag of the cigarette. “I’ve battled his Daddy a few times, and trust me he’s an interesting cat for all the wrong reasons, I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He exhales again. “You wanna know something funny, did you say he and KOS won the tag belts earlier?”
Frank, nodding. “Yes sir, yes they did. They beat FemDom.”
Nightingale takes the final drag and then stubs out the cigarette, exhaling a large amount before continuing. “The funny thing is that Crow McMorris did absolutely nothing to earn that title shot. KOS cashed in his title opportunity from WrestleSeason, Crow was only picked cause he’s been kissing KOS’s ass ever since they were in UCI.”
Nightingale slowly stands up, he feels mildly drunk as he had a double, plus the amount of blood lost tonight. “Now you listen here Frankie and Johnny boy, I bet you… I fucking bet you that The Murder Machine will underestimate me, he’s probably not even thinking about me as a legitimate threat, he’s probably already heading back to the The Hampton's ready to nosh on his granddaddies cock and collect his pocket money, when really he should be paying notice to what occurred here tonight in… wait where are we?”
Johnny, looks confused. Frank finally answers. “Wyoming!”
Nightingale carries on. “Thank you Frank, yes Wyoming. Tonight in this great state I eradicated Sam Kidsgrove and come XIII, Crow McMorris will receive the same fate!”
Johnny, still looking confused. “What does eradicate mean? Like alleviate? As in relieving someone, because like I said mister we ain’t that kind of establishment.”
Frank shakes his head. “God damn it Johnny.”
Nightingale, stops talking, realising he is wasting his breath. He takes another cigarette and lights it. “You know what, it has been a pleasure gentleman but I need to find my way back to the arena to get my things so I’m gonna leave.” He pats Frank on the shoulder. “Frank thanks for everything, and for giving me the heads up for XIII.”
Frank stands up and shakes Nightingales hand. “It’s been a pleasure James, I was cheering on Kidsgrove earlier, but actually I like you now. You’re misunderstood. I hope you beat Crow at XIII.”
“Thanks Frank, he’s definitely gonna get a fight from me.” He looks up at Johnny. “Ugh thanks Johnny.”
Johnny, still looking excitable. “Night crazy angel dude!”
Nightingale, hobbles to the exit, taking another drag, muttering under his breath whilst exhaling. “Ass hole!”
He steps out into the cold March night, deep in thought about the battle ahead with Crow McMorris. He takes another drag of the cigarette as he starts to limp down the long country road.
The Kings City, England - March 4th
It’s a cold, stormy night in The King’s City, the dark sky is often momentarily lit up with the flashes of lightning, followed by the loud cracks of thunder. A large oak tree withstands the strong winds, the branches swaying. Amongst the branches sits James Nightingale, smoking his way through a pack of twenty. He has chosen this spot to sit because he is looking through the bedroom window of the house situated next to the tree. He is not some perverted peeping Tom, no he is watching his son sleep.
I’ve made some fairly shitty choices throughout my life son; I left you and your mother and sister behind as I succumbed to my darkness, and immersed myself back into this brutal world of wrestling. I believed that leaving you all behind would spare you the pain of my darkness, giving you a fresh start. But maybe the feeling of abandonment may do more damage to you in the long run. I know your mother is doing a great job raising you two, I see what she’s doing, it hasn’t gone unnoticed.
The lightning flashes again; Nightingale catches his own reflection in the window, he looks away in disgust. I have truly become a monster, I am not worthy to be called your father. At least you were born out of pure love between your mother and me, I loved her so much. All the little things, like when she would tie back her hair and put her big glasses on, it always melted my heart, she is strong, resolute, hard, she is great.
After blissfully reminiscing happy times in his head for a few moments, he raises his head, with his intense focus returning. As much as you were born out of love son, I know for certain who wasn’t, Crow McMorris! HE IS THE RESULT OF A COKE HEAD SHOOTING HIS LOAD INTO A GUITAR PLAYING CRACK WHORE! Sounds like you’ve had a shitty time, a mother who was more interested in partying hard then raising her son. An absent father, who apart from knocking your mother up, did nothing except pull you back from the clutches of death, and unleash your ‘gift’. Well I hate to say it pal but if your ‘gift’ is the same as your old man’s then you should consider returning it, because I've faced your old man twice, and that ‘gift’ was nothing special. I would have easily decapitated your old man if the recently deceased Sam Kidsgrove hadn’t saved his ass
Our life stories are similar in so many ways Crow, but are also so different. You were the result of a flawed romance between shipwrecked lovers, later to be abandoned by that coked up, maggot infested piece of shit. Your mother was selfish, putting herself first, dragging you from party to party, the damage that poor little Crow must have suffered must have been horrendous. Then look at my story, that of a then young up and coming wrestler, dedicated to his craft, yet the love of his life falls pregnant, planned I may add. A baby born out of love, not by marooned singletons experiencing sexual frustration whilst held up in some cave in South Sea Islands. My son, and later my daughter were my single greatest creations, not some unplanned mistake such as yourself. I chose to leave the crazy world of professional wrestling behind to raise my children and provide the best life for them, yet your father abandoned you for it as you were not as important as his career. My children's mother is hard and strong, fights tooth and nail for her children, yet yours was more interested in getting a high rather than loving you.
Nightingale lights up another cigarette and looks at the sky, the lightning strikes becoming more frequent. So we share similar although slightly different origins. Your father returned to you in your time of need and unleashed your ‘gift’. Look at you now, you are quite the specimen, you are the stereotypical wrestler, if I was gonna jump onto 2K and build the best wrestler possible it would resemble you. However I too have a ‘gift’ Crow, in your time of need, your father came to you, in my time of need ‘The Matriarch’ came to me and consumed me with my ‘gift’, the darkness. I now resemble someone like your father, someone who turns his back on the ones he is meant to love most to pursue glory in the squared circle. I am not the same as him though, I didn’t abandon them because I don’t care, no, I did it because I do care, I care so much that I could not let my darkness consume them, so I left them with the one person I knew who would never betray them. Your old man clearly didn’t have the same wherewithal when it came to choosing the mother of his offspring.
Now I've addressed our origins Crow lets see what the Action Wrestling fans have in front of them at XIII. In the blue corner we have ‘The Murder Machine’ Crow McMorris, the undead warrior, the reigning, albeit undeserving, one half of the Action Wrestling Tag Team Champions. In the red corner we have the mighty ‘Angel of Death’ James Nightingale, the new king of horror, the slayer of Kidsgrove, the uncrowned future World Champion of Action Wrestling! You have your ‘gift’, you think you're immortal son? I would like to beg to differ. I’ve got a proven track record in killing bud, I would like to hedge a bet that my darkness could conquer your gift any day of the week. No one gave me a shot at eradicating Malachi White, oh shit what did I do? I choked him out of existence with a chain. Sam Kidsgrove, no one thought I would end good old Sammie boy, the smart marks just thought I would be a nice tune up for his return. Where is he now Crow? He is now rotting in a morgue in the middle of some derelict hell hole with his two stooges. Go find him and ask him how I destroyed his life Crow, if you can find him, if he ain’t dead already!
Nightingale flicks away his cigarette and exhales. I can see your stupid face now Crow, when you were celebrating backstage with KOS when you got word that you would have me at XIII, I bet you thought great, an easy match up against some newbie. I have always been underestimated Crow, and even in defeat I have torn off shreds of existence from my opponents. No man has ever been the same since facing me. Look at Corey Black; I took the king to his limit, he barely, barely escaped with his title. He couldn’t even pin me, no he had to pin your old man, and then hobbled away like a thief in the night instead of facing me man to man. I am highly suspicious that this is why I am now facing you. Give that guy the Booker's pencil, and he thinks he is going to throw the lamb to the slaughter as a form of revenge. I hate to disappoint you, but I am not a lamb, nor am I a sheep, I follow no one, I am the lone wolf who commits the slaughtering, who seeks the bloodshed. I am the hunter with the loaded rifle who will shoot down the crow and throw its fallen body into the fire. This is my mentality Crow I am the hunter not the hunted, I’m not coming to XIII to be your BITCH! I’m coming to XIII to kick your ass and prove why I, ‘The Angel of Death’ will be the future of this promotion.
Nightingale takes one last look at his son. This is why I had to leave you my son, not because I don’t love you, I do with all my heart. It’s because of what this darkness does to me, what it drives me to do to others. I can’t have you exposed to that, I can’t have you become me, like how Crow resembles his father, I will return to you one day, when I conquer my demons. Until then you are the man of the house, and do what your mother says, she can be one hard girl when she wants to be.
Nightingale drops from the tree and disappears into the stormy night.
Abandoned United Championship Infinite Offices - March 11th
James Nightingale stands inside the old reception of the UCI offices, derelict and in ruin since the promotions collapse. He stands amongst the statues of the Hall of Fame members, relics who still continue to haunt Action Wrestling to this day including Alex Richards, Andre Holmes, Zombie McMorris, Bonnie Blue, Kevin Bishop, and last but not least... Crow McMorris. Nightingale walks up to his statue, smiling sadistically.
I stand in this fallen kingdom looking upon yet another relic, another part timer who clings onto hope of remaining relevant in today's wrestling world. Warriors stand, warriors fall, you have shown throughout the years Crow that you were a strong warrior, strong enough to be enshrined here in this building. Except this building has fallen into ruin, waiting to be demolished. Your achievements will soon be forgotten just like this dead promotion. It appears your heart for this business died with UCI, you could have conquered this world with your physical advantages and your ‘gift’, yet you waste away your prime years in dive bars, snorting your Grandfather's wealth up your nose and filming shitty Zombie Westerns. What makes me different to you Crow is that I stopped wallowing in my self pity, I kicked out of my life and I made myself relevant again. I could have remained in my old life, depressed at the thought of what could have been with my wrestling career. Instead I rebooted myself, I became consumed with my ‘gift’, the darkness. I came to Action Wrestling with one goal, eradicate the weak, and reign supreme above all, making up for my wasted years.
I am here week in, week out making a name for myself. I have raged wars against both Malachi White and Sam Kidsgrove, and on both occasions have come out the other side with their blood on my hands, standing tall, ready to face the next roadblock which looks to derail my campaign. And that roadblock is you Crow, a big six foot eight roadblock who thinks he’s invincible. At XIII, we put that to the test, me and you, one on one in a match with no disqualification, you are entering my realm, I have proven in the last four months that no one does horror and hardcore as brutally as The Angel of Death. The reigning Hardcore Champion knows that too, that’s why he has avoided me ever since Revolution, and i’m sure he thinks feeding me to you will snuff out his biggest threat to his reign.
You have had three matches here in Action Wrestling since returning from your lost year, three whole matches! And yet you have championship gold around your waist. We both know that you don’t deserve that strap though, just how KOS knew he couldn’t beat FPV, so rather than waste his cash in, he instead took the easier option and you reaped the rewards. I don’t need handouts from anyone to help me gain success, I showed that despite being outnumbered several times that you cannot corner this madman, that he will fight back and leave you bleeding. However I am here in the trenches week in and week out clawing away and yet have no gold to show for it. But that makes sense, here in Action Wrestling, you only get opportunity depending on former glory, whilst the hottest talent like myself is ignored. Maybe I should become a part timer like yourself Crow, I’m not getting any younger after all. Trouble is though, I don’t have my own Buddy Roman to bank roll my life and to position me on all the top cards. There’s no doubt you come from hard beginnings, I've already expressed my views on that. But once you took your place at your Grandfather's table, you can’t tell me you haven’t had an easy ride, because you know damn well you have. How about you try struggling in life, like I have. I have been there when dead children have been brought into the Emergency Room, I have been there to tell a woman that her thirty year old husband has succumbed to brain cancer, and I’ve been left to tell his children that Daddies gone. Your biggest dilemma in life? Where am I going to get my next score from? When’s the old man gonna send me another couple of G’s? When will the sequel to my shitty Zombie Western be commissioned? How about I pay a visit to old Buddy’s estate? I ain’t got anything else better to do except linger in the dark. How about I take his walking stick and beat him to death with it? He’s as old as fuck; how about I pull out his catheter and strangle you with it at XIII?
It will be quite a spectacle at XIII when we face off in the ring. I have heard the comparisons in the past between the two of us, but I can tell you now that we are very different. Yes, we might both be on the ‘mythical’ side, but I have more drive then you’ll ever have. You can try putting me down come XIII, try using The Murder of Crows, I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO KICKING OUT OF IT BITCH!. I could give you a Mercy Killing, nice and quick. But you don’t deserve my mercy. No I want Cheyne-Stoking; I gave my Rear Naked Choke this name as it is the kind of breathing one will experience just before they die, how fitting Crow? You say you have died twice, at WCF Revenge and in Gainesville, the third time will be your LAST, as you without a shadow of a doubt will take your final breath deep in my grasp, and I will prove that the ZMAC ‘gift’ is a bunch of crap.
I’m changing the landscape here in Action Wrestling, there won’t be a place for these relics much longer. I will eradicate the weak, White and Kidsgrove are already gone, at XIII you will be next Crow, The Angel of Death is coming, pray for mercy!