Post by Neo on May 2, 2021 11:39:27 GMT -5
I scrape it from the floor. It looks pitiful. Sad and lonely. Deprived of an honorable final moment. Deprived of anything resembling a happy ending.
It resists momentarily. Cold and hard. Locked into place. Although it takes time, it eventually comes undone. As they all do.
This is a quiet place.
I take care to dispose of the item correctly, carefully positioning it in my bag to ensure the space is filled as efficiently as possible, with no chance of anything breaking or coming undone.
I take pride in my work, even though there are many who would look down upon me, arrogance in their eyes and a crude smile cut across their ugly faces.
The van is empty. Only the radio will accompany me, although there is a slim chance that I might get called while I am on the road and sent off to another job.
A cycle.
It never gets any less satisfying.
Arriving at a scene of carnage and leaving it without any slight imperfection, anything that could catch the eye? That was the mark of an expert cleaner.
“Have I seen you around here before?” she said, puzzled by the man she saw before him. His brown hair was slicked back against his skull. He knew what she was thinking. He looked too well-dressed and carried himself too confidently to not be someone of importance in this company. Thus, the only logical conclusion was to make conversation with him. To see if she could weasel her way up the food chain.
Unfortunately for her, he was a nobody.
“Probably not,” he said with a shrug of indifference. “I’m not usually down here.” His voice echoed through the small hallway in the office block, his words drawing a brief raise of the eyebrows from the woman, who he noted was dressed in all grays. A depressing outfit for a depressing person – a leech who was attempting to suck away at his life energy with her desperation to climb the worthless totem pole they found themselves in the middle of.
“Oh, then why are you here?” she asked the obvious. Through his time here, a pattern had emerged. The longer he stayed with the organization, the less and less his time in the offices became. What went from daily meetings turned to weekly briefings, sometimes even bi-weekly depending on the task at hand. He was trusted. He was a professional.
“I don’t work in the offices. I’m under a different department.” How had she not gotten the hint that he was finished with this conversation yet?
“I see…” she said, trailing off. Before she could continue, he cut the cord on this line of questioning.
“If you’ll excuse me, I best be off. I’ve got work to do. See you around.” He said with an air of finality.
There would not be a next time.
He did not have an official job description, nor could he summarize what his role was in a few short sentences. However, he knew that if his bosses were to hand him a paper with all his duties listed upon it, there would one thing of utmost importance, that being…
‘The Cleaner is a Shadow. Nothing more, nothing less.'
Neo stands, leaned up against the brick wall of an alley. He is sweating slightly, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to about the elbow. His slicked back hair is slightly out of place, a swoop of hair falling across his forehead. He pushes it back into place as he addresses the camera.
“I’ve awoken to find that there’s a fly in my soup. Is that the correct expression? Probably not.”
He attempts to smile. It is not a pretty one. A cross between something sinister and perverted, almost.
“This encapsulates my feelings on Bam Beefer in his entirety. For all his size and attributes, he is nothing but a ringing in the ear. An admittedly loud one, given his bravado and misplaced sense of pride in himself. He puffs his chest and attempts to cast a shadow over his opposition with his crude words and simple barbs, only to fall victim to those same enemies when it comes times to actually stand on his own merits in the ring.”
He pauses, grinning now.
“Is this to be expected? Well, of course. Few are capable of backing up their words, and fewer still are able to keep their emotions in check once they’ve gone and invested themselves by challenging their opponent verbally. That’s why mental warfare is such a large part of this game we find ourselves in, isn’t it, Bam?
“Make no mistake. My next words ring only with truth: I am going to humiliate you on Monday. Not out of dislike for you, or for any desire for me to ‘show the world’ or ‘make a statement’ during my debut. No. Only because it’s my job, and you are an obstacle standing in the way of a long-term goal.
“That might be giving you too much credit, though. Someone of your insignificance isn’t really worth being called an obstacle, is he? I’m sure you’ll challenge this idea. Allow yourself to foam at the mouth in anticipation of getting your hands on me. But you won’t find me. I’ll elude you time and time again until I’m ready to put you into the ground. Another humbling experience for a man who just can’t seem to figure it out yet.
“It’s always the most incompetent that take the longest to realize their lack of worth.”
A shake of the head from the man.
“Apologies, Action Wrestling. It’s rude that I didn’t introduce myself first. I am Neo. I hope you enjoy the show.”
A slight incline of the head, and then a fade to black.
It resists momentarily. Cold and hard. Locked into place. Although it takes time, it eventually comes undone. As they all do.
This is a quiet place.
I take care to dispose of the item correctly, carefully positioning it in my bag to ensure the space is filled as efficiently as possible, with no chance of anything breaking or coming undone.
I take pride in my work, even though there are many who would look down upon me, arrogance in their eyes and a crude smile cut across their ugly faces.
The van is empty. Only the radio will accompany me, although there is a slim chance that I might get called while I am on the road and sent off to another job.
A cycle.
It never gets any less satisfying.
Arriving at a scene of carnage and leaving it without any slight imperfection, anything that could catch the eye? That was the mark of an expert cleaner.
“Have I seen you around here before?” she said, puzzled by the man she saw before him. His brown hair was slicked back against his skull. He knew what she was thinking. He looked too well-dressed and carried himself too confidently to not be someone of importance in this company. Thus, the only logical conclusion was to make conversation with him. To see if she could weasel her way up the food chain.
Unfortunately for her, he was a nobody.
“Probably not,” he said with a shrug of indifference. “I’m not usually down here.” His voice echoed through the small hallway in the office block, his words drawing a brief raise of the eyebrows from the woman, who he noted was dressed in all grays. A depressing outfit for a depressing person – a leech who was attempting to suck away at his life energy with her desperation to climb the worthless totem pole they found themselves in the middle of.
“Oh, then why are you here?” she asked the obvious. Through his time here, a pattern had emerged. The longer he stayed with the organization, the less and less his time in the offices became. What went from daily meetings turned to weekly briefings, sometimes even bi-weekly depending on the task at hand. He was trusted. He was a professional.
“I don’t work in the offices. I’m under a different department.” How had she not gotten the hint that he was finished with this conversation yet?
“I see…” she said, trailing off. Before she could continue, he cut the cord on this line of questioning.
“If you’ll excuse me, I best be off. I’ve got work to do. See you around.” He said with an air of finality.
There would not be a next time.
He did not have an official job description, nor could he summarize what his role was in a few short sentences. However, he knew that if his bosses were to hand him a paper with all his duties listed upon it, there would one thing of utmost importance, that being…
‘The Cleaner is a Shadow. Nothing more, nothing less.'
Neo stands, leaned up against the brick wall of an alley. He is sweating slightly, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to about the elbow. His slicked back hair is slightly out of place, a swoop of hair falling across his forehead. He pushes it back into place as he addresses the camera.
“I’ve awoken to find that there’s a fly in my soup. Is that the correct expression? Probably not.”
He attempts to smile. It is not a pretty one. A cross between something sinister and perverted, almost.
“This encapsulates my feelings on Bam Beefer in his entirety. For all his size and attributes, he is nothing but a ringing in the ear. An admittedly loud one, given his bravado and misplaced sense of pride in himself. He puffs his chest and attempts to cast a shadow over his opposition with his crude words and simple barbs, only to fall victim to those same enemies when it comes times to actually stand on his own merits in the ring.”
He pauses, grinning now.
“Is this to be expected? Well, of course. Few are capable of backing up their words, and fewer still are able to keep their emotions in check once they’ve gone and invested themselves by challenging their opponent verbally. That’s why mental warfare is such a large part of this game we find ourselves in, isn’t it, Bam?
“Make no mistake. My next words ring only with truth: I am going to humiliate you on Monday. Not out of dislike for you, or for any desire for me to ‘show the world’ or ‘make a statement’ during my debut. No. Only because it’s my job, and you are an obstacle standing in the way of a long-term goal.
“That might be giving you too much credit, though. Someone of your insignificance isn’t really worth being called an obstacle, is he? I’m sure you’ll challenge this idea. Allow yourself to foam at the mouth in anticipation of getting your hands on me. But you won’t find me. I’ll elude you time and time again until I’m ready to put you into the ground. Another humbling experience for a man who just can’t seem to figure it out yet.
“It’s always the most incompetent that take the longest to realize their lack of worth.”
A shake of the head from the man.
“Apologies, Action Wrestling. It’s rude that I didn’t introduce myself first. I am Neo. I hope you enjoy the show.”
A slight incline of the head, and then a fade to black.