Post by Warpig on Apr 1, 2021 20:51:03 GMT -5
To say Louisiana was hot would be an understatement. It could best be described as walking around in an enormous hot tub that just so happened to be outside in the middle of a one hundred and ten degree day. This was especially true in the swamps.
Will was outside in this extreme heat. He hung feet first from a tree limb about fifteen feet from the ground. He was shirtless. He was either sweating profusely or the moisture in the air had accumulated in his body.
"Fifty." He said as he had just finished what was apparently his fiftieth full body sit up. One could say that this man had serious mental issues but he was very fit and in shape.
He flipped himself down, landing on his feet. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Even his black sweat pants were completely drenched.
"All that talk. All of that bravado. Where did it get you, Joey? Battered, beaten and bruised. You can't say that I didn't warn you. I did. You just didn't listen. And now you're tending to your wounds. Good luck next time?"
He took a long draw.
"I should probably quit these. I guess this is just my way of shortening my time here on this Earth. Every day becomes a little harder due to the damage to the lungs. Eventually they just can't take anymore." He stated flatly before ashing on the ground.
"So. Next up is the tv Title. I'm going to be honest. I don't know what that is. I'm not exactly into championships. I'm not doing this for gold. I'm doing this not for God, but for my own well being. All I've known for years is violence. My every being was bred for the fight. My instincts catered to only destruction. So imagine my surprise when I'm discharged. Imagine trying to slide into every day life. Life without bombs, bullets, or blood. It isn't easy. This is my way of dealing with the change. It's all I know."
He took another long draw.
"I don't know much about you, Twizted. Face paint. TV show. Great. Me? I'm a warrior. I'm a man who had raised villages. One who has gone into enemy camps undetected to take out one target and slip back out. Tell me. Do they have that in your sets? Do they have exploding bombs there? I'm only trying to get you to understand one simple fact. You're an entertainer. I'm sure you're good at what you do. Me? I'm a warrior...a combatant. And I'm good at what I do as well. Which one is better suited for the ring? You make that decision."
His eyes quickly glazed over and his skin went white. Moments of clarity like that have been few and far between over the past few months for Will.
"For months Jessica asked me to get help." He started. "But I couldn't. I'm a Marine. We don't feed into weakness. My issues are a weakness. We take care of things ourselves. That's why I've chosen to fight. This is my way of dealing with my mind. I know what's there and I know how to handle it. Weakness isn't something I give in to. That's what makes me dangerous, Twizted. You're a weak man mascerading as warrior. Me? My heart beats that of a warrior. The blood of a warrior flows through my veins. And I'll do whatever it takes to win. You? Well you puff out your chest and try your hardest to do what comes naturally to myself. I'd say you should prepare, but you already have, yes? You're a smart man with huge plans. I'm sure you're prepared for what comes next should you win. New set? I'm sure you're ready. You have a plan to win. All entertainers do, yes? So let me ask you one question. What happens after I beat you lifeless? Do you dust yourself off and continue that plan? Ordinarily I'm sure you would. You'd shake off the loss, have your show. Nothing happened, right? But I'm no ordinary opponent. I'm a trained killer. Part of me enjoys inflicting pain on others, especially those like you. I love seeing the eyes fill up with fear once those men like yourself realize that you can't win. Quite often they off themselves beforehand. But every once in a while the coward is even too much of a coward to even do that. In those cases, I get blood on my hands. Twizted, one way or the other, your blood will be on my hands. Whether you like it or not" He added with a smile.
He sat down.
"I said before that I'm not here for titles or even winning. I'm only here to feed the beast that lurks inside of me. No. Not some unexplained actual beast like some others around here. No. I'm here to feed the beast that was created when I entered basic training. It constantly needs sustenance. Pain is the only way to feed it. Whether it be my own or someone else's. I just need battle. I just need a purpose in life. A title wouldn't give me purpose, but fighting each week would. A championship is nothing more than an object people fight for. Champions come and go. Titles change hands all the time. They're nothing. I'll fight for one if need be but my only goal is to make sure my opponent can't get up. At the end of the day, that is all that matters. That's simply how I see this world. In the past, I relished waking up each day. Experiencing new thing. Now? It's all about defeating one opponent after another. This week it's you and your title. Next week it'll be whoever gets a shot at my new title. Yes. You heard that right. MY title. After this, It's mine."
William put the cigarette out. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
"Not again."
Will was outside in this extreme heat. He hung feet first from a tree limb about fifteen feet from the ground. He was shirtless. He was either sweating profusely or the moisture in the air had accumulated in his body.
"Fifty." He said as he had just finished what was apparently his fiftieth full body sit up. One could say that this man had serious mental issues but he was very fit and in shape.
He flipped himself down, landing on his feet. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Even his black sweat pants were completely drenched.
"All that talk. All of that bravado. Where did it get you, Joey? Battered, beaten and bruised. You can't say that I didn't warn you. I did. You just didn't listen. And now you're tending to your wounds. Good luck next time?"
He took a long draw.
"I should probably quit these. I guess this is just my way of shortening my time here on this Earth. Every day becomes a little harder due to the damage to the lungs. Eventually they just can't take anymore." He stated flatly before ashing on the ground.
"So. Next up is the tv Title. I'm going to be honest. I don't know what that is. I'm not exactly into championships. I'm not doing this for gold. I'm doing this not for God, but for my own well being. All I've known for years is violence. My every being was bred for the fight. My instincts catered to only destruction. So imagine my surprise when I'm discharged. Imagine trying to slide into every day life. Life without bombs, bullets, or blood. It isn't easy. This is my way of dealing with the change. It's all I know."
He took another long draw.
"I don't know much about you, Twizted. Face paint. TV show. Great. Me? I'm a warrior. I'm a man who had raised villages. One who has gone into enemy camps undetected to take out one target and slip back out. Tell me. Do they have that in your sets? Do they have exploding bombs there? I'm only trying to get you to understand one simple fact. You're an entertainer. I'm sure you're good at what you do. Me? I'm a warrior...a combatant. And I'm good at what I do as well. Which one is better suited for the ring? You make that decision."
His eyes quickly glazed over and his skin went white. Moments of clarity like that have been few and far between over the past few months for Will.
"For months Jessica asked me to get help." He started. "But I couldn't. I'm a Marine. We don't feed into weakness. My issues are a weakness. We take care of things ourselves. That's why I've chosen to fight. This is my way of dealing with my mind. I know what's there and I know how to handle it. Weakness isn't something I give in to. That's what makes me dangerous, Twizted. You're a weak man mascerading as warrior. Me? My heart beats that of a warrior. The blood of a warrior flows through my veins. And I'll do whatever it takes to win. You? Well you puff out your chest and try your hardest to do what comes naturally to myself. I'd say you should prepare, but you already have, yes? You're a smart man with huge plans. I'm sure you're prepared for what comes next should you win. New set? I'm sure you're ready. You have a plan to win. All entertainers do, yes? So let me ask you one question. What happens after I beat you lifeless? Do you dust yourself off and continue that plan? Ordinarily I'm sure you would. You'd shake off the loss, have your show. Nothing happened, right? But I'm no ordinary opponent. I'm a trained killer. Part of me enjoys inflicting pain on others, especially those like you. I love seeing the eyes fill up with fear once those men like yourself realize that you can't win. Quite often they off themselves beforehand. But every once in a while the coward is even too much of a coward to even do that. In those cases, I get blood on my hands. Twizted, one way or the other, your blood will be on my hands. Whether you like it or not" He added with a smile.
He sat down.
"I said before that I'm not here for titles or even winning. I'm only here to feed the beast that lurks inside of me. No. Not some unexplained actual beast like some others around here. No. I'm here to feed the beast that was created when I entered basic training. It constantly needs sustenance. Pain is the only way to feed it. Whether it be my own or someone else's. I just need battle. I just need a purpose in life. A title wouldn't give me purpose, but fighting each week would. A championship is nothing more than an object people fight for. Champions come and go. Titles change hands all the time. They're nothing. I'll fight for one if need be but my only goal is to make sure my opponent can't get up. At the end of the day, that is all that matters. That's simply how I see this world. In the past, I relished waking up each day. Experiencing new thing. Now? It's all about defeating one opponent after another. This week it's you and your title. Next week it'll be whoever gets a shot at my new title. Yes. You heard that right. MY title. After this, It's mine."
William put the cigarette out. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
"Not again."