Post by cyriddle on Sept 26, 2021 22:10:56 GMT -5
“Actions prove who someone is; words just prove who they want to be.”
The low tone, English accent, and enunciated nature of the words spoken are indicative of Cyrus Riddle, and just as the sound of rustling audio ends, we see the Englishman’s face, in perfect focus of what seems to be a handheld camera.
“There are nights in this business where the general consensus of every man, woman, and child watching will lean toward the review of spectacular or shocking. There are nights where adjectives get thrown about in such a grandiose fashion that it makes you wonder whether the praise is genuine or if people are blowing the proverbial smoke up your ass. But tonight, when everyone in Soldier Field goes home and lets the events of the evening marinate, and they awake in the morning to inevitably voice their opinion online or amongst their peer group, I know that their discussion will not be rooted in a place of false praise.”
Riddle glares off camera, more so in a smug pause than to actually divert his attention to a person or thing out of view.
“Bore-bon, Thunder Cunt… I hope you two are on notice and aware of which team has the upperhand after tonight. Jason and I did not talk, we acted. See, we can all stand on ceremony and engage in the verbal pageantry that matches of this magnitude are built upon, and that’s expected of us naturally. But, it is the time between and how it is spent that will determine the winners of the war. You two ran your fuckin’ mouths to no end last week. You spouted off Wikipedia facts, made little pieces of my personal life known in what I can only assume was an effort to crawl under my skin by mentioning the names of my daughters. However, I implore you to figure out what that accomplishes exactly. Do you feel better in your heart and in your mind? Does it give you some form of superiority complex that you can do a little dive beneath the surface of Cyrus Riddle? Or do you wank one another off after you are finished because you contrived some insults that you think are worthy of sound bites?”
Riddle smiles, shaking his head.
“I became a Hall of Fame wrestler, by handling myself in the ring. Sans a few less than stellar times in my career, I have always made it a point when between the ropes to give my all, whether it be to my detriment or benefit. I speak well, I wrestle exceptionally, and I do not dance around the challenges, I face them head on. That’s how World Championships are won and defended, that’s how high caliber matches are executed and placed into an elite status of being ‘timeless.’ And the two of you, in all of your hubris, and all of your ramblings, forgot one key aspect of the ones challenging you for those tag titles you hold… and that’s the fact that we bring the fight better than anyone else can. We walked into your home, took your moment away, and showed your home audience who the real talent is. We’ve been dubbed legends, outsiders, strategists, opportunists, and even degenerate scum. Mind you, despite how you see us, our names are in your mouths and our faces are in your mind. You close your eyes, and you see this face staring back at you. The fans, they look at Jason Cashe and Cyrus Riddle and see nothing except us holding up those tag team titles with the fallen, lesser talents laying on the mat.”
“It’s very easy to understand. We acted, we didn’t just tell you we had a gun, we took it out and pulled the fucking trigger. You should be thanking us for creating the buzz that your names are now included in. Because of us, the stock of this upcoming fight has risen that… much… more. The pressure has been applied. Now, the ball is in your court to do what you feel compelled to do. How do you respond? Will you just spew more words and waste our time, or will you find the courage to act and retaliate properly? Because quite honestly, with the relative ease we took everything away from you tonight, I’m starting to question if you two are truly worthy of those titles you hold. From where I stand, your words are your armor, they are your gateway to victory because to lesser minds and more intimidated adversaries, you can tap into their head and play the mind games. With that rendered ineffective in this particular outing, what can you actually do now? Care to remark on my failed marriages? Perhaps you can speak on the decline of my career? Or how about the revolving door of women? That’s a topic most usually enjoy exploiting. Amuse yourselves, do what you have to do to alleviate some of that doubt that I know will be sitting inside of you from tonight and moving forward into Masters of Macabre. Just know, wherever we are, we hope to see you there, and we will be ready to put you down again. “
Riddle holds up his index and middle finger before the camera cuts off, immediately going black. With the ante now raised in the wake of Jason Cashe and Cyrus Riddle’s attack, the question now becomes, what will happen next?
----------------------------------------------------------------
It had been a glorious night. Most would embellish using the type of verbiage that corresponds with the level of expectation in describing such an evening, but Cy knew for himself that nothing in recent history or memory could match the intensity and depth of the dinner and quality time spent with Kim since he had finally connected with her in what was a winding road of six years building up to the moment they would finally stop searching the world for incompatibility and see one another eye to eye in the way their minds and hearts had intended.
After being awoken from his slumber in the dead of the night, Cyrus opened his eyes and began staring at the ceiling for a few minutes. He was unsure what the catalyst was for his impromptu awakening, but he felt no sense of dread or panic. However, there was a slight thirst that caused him to ease out of Kim’s bed slowly, making sure to not wake her. Making his way downstairs, he crept into the kitchen, opening the door with silent intentions, partaking in a bottle of water. One thing about the mountains, they provided an abundance of privacy and a sense of calm as if the real world just didn’t exist any longer. It was calm, it was quiet, and best of all it provided a unique view out of the window which he gazed out of as the moon dominated the sky and the stars twinkled with pride. He took a generous chug out of the bottle, halfway finishing it as his hands propped him up on the marble countertop he leaned against.
Without so much as one indicator of being in any company, Cy heard the sound of feet walking across the floor behind him. Playing ignorant as they got closer and he felt a presence, he smiled as he felt a pair of cold hands cover his eyes, blocking his vision.
“You know, love, it’s not much of a guessing game when we are the only two in the house.”
Cy reaches up to touch Kim’s hands, but pauses after he realizes that his sense of touch is disabled. He felt nothing where her hands were over his eyes. Instead, it was comparable to a cold mist.
“Kim? The hell...”
He turned around quickly and his heart began to race instantly. This was not Kim, nor was it a spectre that remotely resembled Kim. No, this ghostly figure before him had brunette hair, stood at least a foot shorter than he, and in an almost unbearable sight to see, her eyes were stone cold with a bullet wound in her forehead and her mouth sewn shut.
“No…”
He shook his head in a panicked state, yet his body felt paralyzed in place. Cy felt as though he would successfully force his insides out of his own skin before he could successfully control his own motor functions. Despite these physical hindrances, he did know one thing for sure… and that was her identity.
“Victoria? No… no, it’s not you. You… you…”
“Died.”
The apparition’s voice spoke to him in telepathic fashion due to the restriction of speech, and it was an identical tone and softness as the woman he once knew… that he once loved.
“You could have stopped my fate, Cy, you know that right? You could have prevented this, but you didn’t. The amazing Cyrus Riddle, the monster, the badass, the failure. You let them do this to me. You just watched while I screamed for you in terror. Must be nice to continue your life.”
Cy closed his eyes, trying to let the accusations enter one ear and exit the other, unwilling to accept these statements as truth. The weight of the words laid on his mind and heart so heavy that he nearly dismissed the sulfuric smell that entered his nostrils as it did the night in his condo last week.
“It wasn’t my fault. They had a gun to my head, too. They nearly beat me to death that night. You know this, you saw my blood. I avenged you.”
“Avenging isn’t saving, is it? We could have built a life, we could have had a family. Your misery would have never begun if you didn’t fail to save me and yourself.”
The apparition of Victoria narrowed her eyes at him, using her misty hand to shove a finger into the wounded forehead.
“You live knowing what I died for. You can’t overcome this, you can’t overcome anything. Your heart is too heavy, your decisions too wrong, and your wrongdoings too plentiful. I told you what your life would lead to and you didn’t listen.”
She then tilted her head to the side and held her hand out with the palm facing toward the ceiling.
“Let him save you. Let him take you. Let him rid you of your guilt and all of your wrongs. He can become powerful and do what you cannot. Only he can redeem you from your life.”
Cy’s breathing had increased exponentially, with a tear now running down his cheek. He still shook his head in resistance, refusing to let this affect him any further than it already had. His anger was building to a point of no return.
“Get out of my head, get out of this house. No, fuck you and the hell you came from. Leave me alone.”
Without saying anything, she threw her head back in the most macabre silent laughter he had ever been witness to. After she stopped suddenly, within a split second she was face to face with him.
“He said he will be seeing you soon. Bye Cy, catch you later, okay? Have fun being a miserable asshole forever.’
“I forgave myself for you. I did what I could, I did my grieving. Tell that son of a bitch I’ll be waiting for him.”
She shook her head, with a look of disappointment in her eyes.
“I knew you would say that… so I was told to give you this.’
Cy’s eyebrow raised immediately. Before he could rightfully react, he felt a cold steel under his chin, a single click, and a loud bang! Everything went dark for a moment, until he shot upright in the bed once more, this time with the sun breaking the skyline and shining through the glass window of Kim’s bedroom. He had sweat running down his face, looking around feverishly and beginning to question what had just happened. Unable to explain, he left the bed once more… or for the first time? And made his way into the bathroom. Using his hands to cup the water from the faucet, he splashed the water over his face and grabbed a towel to dry off. As he brings the towel away from his face, his eyes focus in on the mirror in front of him, as he reads the word “Soon” which had been scratched into the glass with what can only be assumed as a blade.
The low tone, English accent, and enunciated nature of the words spoken are indicative of Cyrus Riddle, and just as the sound of rustling audio ends, we see the Englishman’s face, in perfect focus of what seems to be a handheld camera.
“There are nights in this business where the general consensus of every man, woman, and child watching will lean toward the review of spectacular or shocking. There are nights where adjectives get thrown about in such a grandiose fashion that it makes you wonder whether the praise is genuine or if people are blowing the proverbial smoke up your ass. But tonight, when everyone in Soldier Field goes home and lets the events of the evening marinate, and they awake in the morning to inevitably voice their opinion online or amongst their peer group, I know that their discussion will not be rooted in a place of false praise.”
Riddle glares off camera, more so in a smug pause than to actually divert his attention to a person or thing out of view.
“Bore-bon, Thunder Cunt… I hope you two are on notice and aware of which team has the upperhand after tonight. Jason and I did not talk, we acted. See, we can all stand on ceremony and engage in the verbal pageantry that matches of this magnitude are built upon, and that’s expected of us naturally. But, it is the time between and how it is spent that will determine the winners of the war. You two ran your fuckin’ mouths to no end last week. You spouted off Wikipedia facts, made little pieces of my personal life known in what I can only assume was an effort to crawl under my skin by mentioning the names of my daughters. However, I implore you to figure out what that accomplishes exactly. Do you feel better in your heart and in your mind? Does it give you some form of superiority complex that you can do a little dive beneath the surface of Cyrus Riddle? Or do you wank one another off after you are finished because you contrived some insults that you think are worthy of sound bites?”
Riddle smiles, shaking his head.
“I became a Hall of Fame wrestler, by handling myself in the ring. Sans a few less than stellar times in my career, I have always made it a point when between the ropes to give my all, whether it be to my detriment or benefit. I speak well, I wrestle exceptionally, and I do not dance around the challenges, I face them head on. That’s how World Championships are won and defended, that’s how high caliber matches are executed and placed into an elite status of being ‘timeless.’ And the two of you, in all of your hubris, and all of your ramblings, forgot one key aspect of the ones challenging you for those tag titles you hold… and that’s the fact that we bring the fight better than anyone else can. We walked into your home, took your moment away, and showed your home audience who the real talent is. We’ve been dubbed legends, outsiders, strategists, opportunists, and even degenerate scum. Mind you, despite how you see us, our names are in your mouths and our faces are in your mind. You close your eyes, and you see this face staring back at you. The fans, they look at Jason Cashe and Cyrus Riddle and see nothing except us holding up those tag team titles with the fallen, lesser talents laying on the mat.”
“It’s very easy to understand. We acted, we didn’t just tell you we had a gun, we took it out and pulled the fucking trigger. You should be thanking us for creating the buzz that your names are now included in. Because of us, the stock of this upcoming fight has risen that… much… more. The pressure has been applied. Now, the ball is in your court to do what you feel compelled to do. How do you respond? Will you just spew more words and waste our time, or will you find the courage to act and retaliate properly? Because quite honestly, with the relative ease we took everything away from you tonight, I’m starting to question if you two are truly worthy of those titles you hold. From where I stand, your words are your armor, they are your gateway to victory because to lesser minds and more intimidated adversaries, you can tap into their head and play the mind games. With that rendered ineffective in this particular outing, what can you actually do now? Care to remark on my failed marriages? Perhaps you can speak on the decline of my career? Or how about the revolving door of women? That’s a topic most usually enjoy exploiting. Amuse yourselves, do what you have to do to alleviate some of that doubt that I know will be sitting inside of you from tonight and moving forward into Masters of Macabre. Just know, wherever we are, we hope to see you there, and we will be ready to put you down again. “
Riddle holds up his index and middle finger before the camera cuts off, immediately going black. With the ante now raised in the wake of Jason Cashe and Cyrus Riddle’s attack, the question now becomes, what will happen next?
----------------------------------------------------------------
It had been a glorious night. Most would embellish using the type of verbiage that corresponds with the level of expectation in describing such an evening, but Cy knew for himself that nothing in recent history or memory could match the intensity and depth of the dinner and quality time spent with Kim since he had finally connected with her in what was a winding road of six years building up to the moment they would finally stop searching the world for incompatibility and see one another eye to eye in the way their minds and hearts had intended.
After being awoken from his slumber in the dead of the night, Cyrus opened his eyes and began staring at the ceiling for a few minutes. He was unsure what the catalyst was for his impromptu awakening, but he felt no sense of dread or panic. However, there was a slight thirst that caused him to ease out of Kim’s bed slowly, making sure to not wake her. Making his way downstairs, he crept into the kitchen, opening the door with silent intentions, partaking in a bottle of water. One thing about the mountains, they provided an abundance of privacy and a sense of calm as if the real world just didn’t exist any longer. It was calm, it was quiet, and best of all it provided a unique view out of the window which he gazed out of as the moon dominated the sky and the stars twinkled with pride. He took a generous chug out of the bottle, halfway finishing it as his hands propped him up on the marble countertop he leaned against.
Without so much as one indicator of being in any company, Cy heard the sound of feet walking across the floor behind him. Playing ignorant as they got closer and he felt a presence, he smiled as he felt a pair of cold hands cover his eyes, blocking his vision.
“You know, love, it’s not much of a guessing game when we are the only two in the house.”
Cy reaches up to touch Kim’s hands, but pauses after he realizes that his sense of touch is disabled. He felt nothing where her hands were over his eyes. Instead, it was comparable to a cold mist.
“Kim? The hell...”
He turned around quickly and his heart began to race instantly. This was not Kim, nor was it a spectre that remotely resembled Kim. No, this ghostly figure before him had brunette hair, stood at least a foot shorter than he, and in an almost unbearable sight to see, her eyes were stone cold with a bullet wound in her forehead and her mouth sewn shut.
“No…”
He shook his head in a panicked state, yet his body felt paralyzed in place. Cy felt as though he would successfully force his insides out of his own skin before he could successfully control his own motor functions. Despite these physical hindrances, he did know one thing for sure… and that was her identity.
“Victoria? No… no, it’s not you. You… you…”
“Died.”
The apparition’s voice spoke to him in telepathic fashion due to the restriction of speech, and it was an identical tone and softness as the woman he once knew… that he once loved.
“You could have stopped my fate, Cy, you know that right? You could have prevented this, but you didn’t. The amazing Cyrus Riddle, the monster, the badass, the failure. You let them do this to me. You just watched while I screamed for you in terror. Must be nice to continue your life.”
Cy closed his eyes, trying to let the accusations enter one ear and exit the other, unwilling to accept these statements as truth. The weight of the words laid on his mind and heart so heavy that he nearly dismissed the sulfuric smell that entered his nostrils as it did the night in his condo last week.
“It wasn’t my fault. They had a gun to my head, too. They nearly beat me to death that night. You know this, you saw my blood. I avenged you.”
“Avenging isn’t saving, is it? We could have built a life, we could have had a family. Your misery would have never begun if you didn’t fail to save me and yourself.”
The apparition of Victoria narrowed her eyes at him, using her misty hand to shove a finger into the wounded forehead.
“You live knowing what I died for. You can’t overcome this, you can’t overcome anything. Your heart is too heavy, your decisions too wrong, and your wrongdoings too plentiful. I told you what your life would lead to and you didn’t listen.”
She then tilted her head to the side and held her hand out with the palm facing toward the ceiling.
“Let him save you. Let him take you. Let him rid you of your guilt and all of your wrongs. He can become powerful and do what you cannot. Only he can redeem you from your life.”
Cy’s breathing had increased exponentially, with a tear now running down his cheek. He still shook his head in resistance, refusing to let this affect him any further than it already had. His anger was building to a point of no return.
“Get out of my head, get out of this house. No, fuck you and the hell you came from. Leave me alone.”
Without saying anything, she threw her head back in the most macabre silent laughter he had ever been witness to. After she stopped suddenly, within a split second she was face to face with him.
“He said he will be seeing you soon. Bye Cy, catch you later, okay? Have fun being a miserable asshole forever.’
“I forgave myself for you. I did what I could, I did my grieving. Tell that son of a bitch I’ll be waiting for him.”
She shook her head, with a look of disappointment in her eyes.
“I knew you would say that… so I was told to give you this.’
Cy’s eyebrow raised immediately. Before he could rightfully react, he felt a cold steel under his chin, a single click, and a loud bang! Everything went dark for a moment, until he shot upright in the bed once more, this time with the sun breaking the skyline and shining through the glass window of Kim’s bedroom. He had sweat running down his face, looking around feverishly and beginning to question what had just happened. Unable to explain, he left the bed once more… or for the first time? And made his way into the bathroom. Using his hands to cup the water from the faucet, he splashed the water over his face and grabbed a towel to dry off. As he brings the towel away from his face, his eyes focus in on the mirror in front of him, as he reads the word “Soon” which had been scratched into the glass with what can only be assumed as a blade.