Post by Damian K' on Apr 8, 2017 13:00:34 GMT -5
Another victory over someone who posed a threat, additionally have fought for the Tag Team Championship. Damian slicked back his hair with a sigh as he came backstage. Clutched in his hand is the briefcase that held the Oh Shit contract. Its weight had become familiar to him, becoming his favorite object. As he lifted it, he gave it a fine look, knowing its overall importance. He wondered how many people envied him. For a moment, he thought of the idea of having to defend it. The numbers would start to stack against him as more people would target him. Namely, the Aptitude came to mind. The Incredible One would stop at nothing to intervene with Damian’s progress if Damian looked in his direction at all. The prospect of it all annoyed Damian; he didn’t have a need for insipid ignorance.
Soon, he would have to use it. He hated rushing decisions, but he had a firm idea of who he wanted to fight. When he made his way into his locker room, he acquired a single object. A screwdriver managed to do the trick. On the briefcase, now devoid of its prior contents, the briefcase bore a single name. He got his belongings, taking his leave quickly. When he walked down the hallway, he kept himself inconspicuous. No one needed to see what he had planned. Quiet, decided, and knowledgeable, Damian set up his display as well as he could. Resting upon a well-frequented area was the briefcase.
Engraved upon it was the name of the Ascension Champion, Max Shade. Damian left for the whole world to see, before drifting off to return to the one person who truly mattered. As he made his way out, his phone began to buzz. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew the phone, gazing at the caller ID. On it, Tara’s name with several hearts next to it told him what he needed to know. Without much thought after, he answered the call.
“Hello,” he began.
Tara huffed into the phone, “Cameron, I need food,” she whined.
The ravenous hunger of a pregnant woman, Damian thought about.
“What would you like?” Damian asked, sighing heavily.
“Chinese food would be nice,” Tara said, humming lowly to herself.
Damian looked around the hallway, seeing the posters of past OCW stars. With the Hall of Fame expanding, he knew the propaganda would be immense. As he made his way into his car, he put Tara on speaker. Key West was a lengthy drive back, but Damian enjoyed the silence of it. Leaving as soon as the show as over gave him time to watch the nighttime road. As he hit New York, he could see the sunrise. With melodic tunes aiding him in his journey, due to Tara falling asleep, Damian knew a certain peace.
Once he crossed the bridge into the falsely immaculate city, he took it all in. Back in the ring, with a growing hype and fan base behind him, Damian found himself enriched with the corporation. It reminded him of his early days in LEGACY. Renegades all about, wars sparking up, and Damian in an arbitrary zone of neutrality. He ran with his own gang of people, but they were above all in spirit. They didn’t care about the politics of the place, they wanted the glory for their young selves. Now, Damian continued to avoid the politics of wrestling, but he was alone. Venturing out by himself did do him better than running with a group.
That’ll be for the best. Not being affiliated with anyone would grant Damian a lot more opportunities. People would beg for him to move forward, because he’ll be a renegade again. If he’s not with the Aptitude, he’s against them. If he’s not with the Clientele, they can become targets for his forward progression. Thinking of it now, he can find himself as the OCW Champion without anyone to stand by him. It made him salivate internally, a hidden notion of his desire for conquering. It was something the Kaisers could never run, no matter how hard he does. Changing his name doesn’t change his upbringing.
It wouldn’t be long before people take note of the briefcase. Dr. Orange would start to speak frantically about how much Damian didn’t deserve the opportunity. Alongside that, he would berate Damian’s efforts as a rookie ideology beyond something worthwhile. He took a stop at the Chinese restaurant that Tara and him frequented. As he waited on the Sesame Chicken, he checked the news forum for OCW. The Survivor event brought some remnant of joy into his system, so many people taking part in that. He thought about doing it, but he knew that Tara wouldn’t want him to stay too far away. Someone would come drag him back, because a father-to-be needs to be near his loved one…not on some silly island.
Soon enough, he knew the mention of the briefcase would come out. Some stagehand would find it, discover its meaning, and report it to the nearest news reporter. He awaited the reaction to it. The egotistical, but relieved ramblings of the Incredible One, and the slight disappointment in Savage will come. Little did they know that Damian looked at them too. However, he needed to ascend first, as they say.
“For Mr. Cameron,” Su called for him. Damian turned his head to see his food awaiting his attention.
He retrieved it and made his way home. As he looked around the city, he saw the common happenings that occurred daily. The homeless laying in desolation, the disgruntled trying to make a living, and the occasional tourist gawking at the lies that the city weaves. All of them were background noise for Damian as he entered his home, dropping the cigarette he dragged on. One final jet of smoke escaped him before he made his way into the house.
When he did, he was greeted by the shining face of his loved one, Tara Dola. However, the shine were tears crawling down her face. Damian’s eyes widened.
“I need…help,” she groaned, pain emitting on her face, “please…help.”
A trip to the drug store was needed.
The video feed started out a little off-kilter this time around. At rapid paces, clips of people partaking in mass amounts of drugs. Someone smoked weed, taking a hit from a bong. It escalated into someone taking a party drug, a small pill. Finally, it came to two videos of someone snorting a line of cocaine, followed by someone injecting heroin. It ended with Damian K’ smoking a cigarette inside of the comfort of a well-furnished space. He put out the cigarette, blowing out smoke.
“I think I need to get used to people screaming around me.”
He swept the ashes into a trash bin. “Iggy Hardy, a man that is lauded as a man of potential and reckless words, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Last week, I took out Lance Savage. Thus, the record continues. My first match on Massacre started off with a bang, but now I stand before an immense wall. There’s a Trump joke in there somewhere, but,” he took a glance at the camera while he continued to clean his ash tray, “that’s beneath me.”
“To continue the wall analogy, I must break past you, Hardy.”
“You see, you’re a person that can stand in the way of my conquest here. You defeated the #1 Contender to the Ascension Championship. If you can find the answers in that storm of thoughts in your head, then you might be able to conclude that you’re worth being in the same spotlight as Chaotic. Hence why I must take you out now and solve the argument for everyone.”
“Throughout all my time in wrestling, I never fought against an addict. Well, not one like you. Let’s see,” he pondered, “I fought against many people addicted to the pain that I brought them, unable to satisfy their constant want to try to beat me. You can call me a drug, one that’s easier to get addicted to. I’m more sought after that any drug that you’ve taken.”
“I’m the most savage drug you’re going to take, but just like any powerful drug,” Damian’s eyes met the camera.
“I’m not good for you.”
“I can destroy your system. I can leave you a shell of the man that you idolize yourself to be. I can rob you of all your dreams and desires. I can make you so unfavorable that all the women that seek you will flinch and run at the sight of you. I’m a drug that everyone’s going to get addicted to. And you’re going to be the person that sells it to the world.”
“Bring all that strength you have, fight against me, and make everyone see that I’m OCW’s newest, hottest commodity and everyone should take me in.”
“I will bring you the highest of highs, a euphoria that you’ll never be able to find every again. While you get addicted to me, trying to claw your way back to me, I’ll be something that many doctors want to be for you.”
“I’ll be your rehab. I’ll be your anti-drug.”
“I’ll cure you of your madness, your pain, and your insanity.”
Damian held the Oh Shit Contract in his hands, eyeing it for a moment, “and you won’t be able to get enough.”
“Iggy, if I was anyone else, like Chaotic, then you might have had a better shot. Your overwhelming personality might have won you the match, but what happens when a personality like you meets someone like me? I’m a cult of personality. I’m a harbinger. I’m a leader. I’m a monolithic force that no one can resist. When you look at me, you’ll see someone you want to become, someone that you’ll idolize.”
“As I said, I’ll be your favorite drug. I’ll be your most needed help. And I’ll be the man that you’ll idolize as someone higher than yourself.”
“Be careful, though,” Damian warned.
“I might be a little too INTENSE for you.”
Static.
As Damian cycled through his different emails, offers from random places he went to eat, he spotted an important email. It was labeled from some worker in OCW, a hand of Marcus Welsh. Damian tilted his head and took a sip of his coffee. He tapped on it, bringing it to his attention. Inside was a very simple message, but it was one that caught Damian momentarily off guard.
“Mr. Welsh would like to see you on the next Massacre.”
Damian’s eyebrow furrowed upon reading it. He didn’t know what Marcus would want with him, probably some sort of congratulations. Then again, he knew that Marcus was on the perceptive side. The congratulations might be there, but he would follow up on it. He might acknowledge Damian’s previous action involving the briefcase. He did leave a foreboding message to the Ascension Champion.
He peered behind himself at his pregnant girlfriend, resting. She had fallen asleep out of nowhere; the fluctuations must have gotten to her. He frowned, realizing that he would get busier with the workload.
“I hope this won’t be a nuisance,” Damian murmured to himself.
He didn’t have time for such things, especially since his encounter with the Incredible One.
Iggy Hardy, Marcus Welsh, and Dr. Orange.
Damian’s schedule might have gotten more tedious than he originally thought. But he knew what he signed up for. He picked up an envelope that just arrived. Within it was a check from OCW, the first one. He placed it next to Tara’s resting head, giving her hair a stroke as he did. She could do what she needed with it. That was the important thing to him.
Making sure that she was safe and sound.
