Post by Khaos on Mar 25, 2021 22:12:56 GMT -5
Damien Carter sat alone on the curb outside the St. Elmo Steak House in Indianapolis, Indiana; the after-party raging on inside the restaurant without him. The Revo1 staff, crew, and superstars were celebrating the successful conclusion of their first ever Legacy show in style, but Damien wasn’t one for festivities. He would anxiously check his phone, send out a quick call or text, and then wait for a response that would never come. It’d been awhile since he’d had a partner of any kind in his life so he wasn’t quite sure how to handle things in these situations. This was the second time in as many weeks that Cerise had been hurt inside that ring, requiring medical personnel to tend to her injuries. And, just like before, she declined any type of treatment. He didn’t doubt her toughness or resiliency, but it was times like this… when just a simple “once-over” by the doctors on sight would suffice… where he began to wonder if he even knew her at all. Then again, Damien would’ve probably done the same thing in her shoes. He tended to be overtly stubborn when it came to his own health.
“This seat taken?” Jerika Mason rhetorically asked, not waiting for him to respond and sitting down beside him. “Beautiful night out, isn’t it?”
Damien glanced over at Jerika, before following her gaze up to the stars that hung high above in the black velvety sky. He wasn’t used to seeing her without a cameraman trailing a few paces behind her, still… he felt on edge, like she was about to dive back into journalism-mode any-
“That was a hell of a match tonight,” Jerika complimented. “Too bad you couldn’t pick up the victory…”
And there it is…
Damien grunted in response as he checked his phone for the hundredth time, like an overprotective father waiting for his daughter to tell him that she had gotten home okay.
“Got a hot date?” Jerika mused, trying to sneak a peek over Damien’s shoulder.
“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Damien griped, slipping his phone back into his pocket, safe from prying eyes.
“Just curious,” Jerika responded, shrugging her shoulders. “Force of habit, I suppose.”
The two sat in awkward silence for a bit as Damien wondered what the proper social etiquette was in this situation. He really didn’t feel in the mood to converse with anyone at the moment, least of all the Revo rumor mill that was Jerika Mason. Was it considered impolite to ask her to return to the celebration inside and leave him to his solace? She’d probably have more fun in there, after all.
“So…” Jerika said after long last, making a smacking sound with her lips as if she were bored. “Big match coming up…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Damien groaned. “Just ask your damn questions, already.”
“What? I wasn’t… I mean… I’m not…” Jerika seemed to trip over her words, looking for just the right phrase to counter his aggressive demeanor. “I was just being polite…”
Damien cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow arching up as if silently asking her “oh really”?
“Yeah, okay,” Jerika finally caved. “You’re right, I do have some questions. But you can’t blame me, Damien… this is kind of a big deal, for you and me both. I mean, the first EVER Legacy World Championship title defense! Your first EVER title opportunity! You can’t tell me that you’re not excited!”
Damien paused and needed to think about this for a moment, almost as if the realization hadn’t hit him prior to right now. Was this what he had been reduced to; just another one of these glorified “superstars” needing to prove their worth? Damien had endured countless battles before, most of which occurred outside the wrestling ring. He had to admit, when he was inflicting pain onto his opponents in front of the eyes of all those witnesses, there was a type of thrill in it all. Maybe getting gold around his waist would… no! He would not succumb to the temptation, not give into the sin that plagued so many of those that already fester inside the locker rooms of Revo1.
“The only thing I’m excited about Jerika…” Damien began, his eyes locking with Jerika’s. "… is getting my hands on Cartier again. She and I have unfinished business. See… I don’t like draws on my record. I don’t want to go into a match wondering if I’m simply equal to my opponent; I want to know who the better competitor is!”
Damien turned his attention to the window, peering through it at those that were having a joyous time inside. He half-smiled then, almost pitying those that had such little to celebrate that they thought one show was enough to base their merits off of. For him, this was to have been the launching point, and it had ended in a draw.
“That being said,” Damien started, gathering his thoughts. “I learned something about Cartier tonight. See, for all her talk about the mystical arts and the supernatural, she is not immune to pain. I saw the look of anguish in her face when I twisted her ankle in ways that it was not meant to bend. I wonder, is two weeks enough time for her to heal from an injury like that? Or will that be weighing on her as she stands across the ring from me again at Ides?”
The thrill of the fight begins to pulse through Damien’s veins as he now rises to his feet, looking out at the quiet streets of Indianapolis.
“I get why this sport is so intoxicating to so many,” Damien acknowledged, practically bouncing up and down as the adrenaline rush surged through him. “The thrill of the fight, the glory of the victory… but what I don’t understand Jerika, is the need for me to tell you, Cartier, or the whole world just what I’m going to do to her at Ides. If you truly want to know, then simply tune in and watch the Khaos that ensues.”
“Truthfully,” Jerika began, trying to defend her livelihood. “People are always going to want more, Damien. We live in the digital age, one where your words will go viral in the matter of seconds…”
“Words are meaningless unless your actions back them up,” Damien spit out. “Too many people cower behind their screens, spewing insults, throwing slander, but when it comes time to defend their beliefs… they turn tail and run. But me? Let’s look at my actions and what led me to this moment right here. Kylie Moore recruited me to be part of her goon squad at Allegiance, and I went along with it, for a while anyway. But week after week, I watched as I was resorted to being nothing more than a hired thug for Kylie, mercilessly attacking the likes of Portia Alexander, Amelia Hearts, and Lucy Sixx. What were their sins? Why should I go along with it? These were the questions that I kept asking myself. Everyone else told me to simply go with the flow, make the best of the situation, and put it behind me. I couldn’t do that, that’s not who I am. And so at Allegiance, I showed the world why There Can Never Be Order… only Khaos!”
Damien turned his attention back to Jerika, a sliver of fear running down her spine.
“Actions have consequences,” Damien began to reflect, his demeanor starting to calm as if he was suddenly crashing down to earth. “And it seemed that I had squandered my opportunity. Add to that my match with Chelsea LeClair, and it appeared fortune was not smiling favorably upon me. Or maybe… everything is working out exactly as was intended.”
Jerika looked at Damien, confused as to how all of this could’ve added up to be an advantage for him.
“Think about it, Jerika,” Damien smirked. “I cost my team a victory at Allegiance… I tap out to Chelsea and live to fight another day… and then my non-title match with Cartier ends in a draw. What if I wanted these things to all happen? What if I want Cartier to perceive me as anything but a threat? See, for some reason, there is this misconception out there that I don’t take my opponents seriously. But maybe it’s she, who underestimates me? Maybe I had her exactly where I wanted her tonight, could’ve beaten her whenever I wanted to, but I needed things to end this way so that we could “resolve” our issues at Ides, with HER title now on the line…”
Damien laughed to himself as Jerika tried to figure out if he was a mad genius or, simply, just mad.
“Or maybe I’m just crazy,” Damien declared, practically reading her thoughts. “Either way, what Cartier needs to be asking herself is ‘How do I truly prepare for the Khaotic One’? The answer… expect the unexpected, and pray that your imagination is as vivid as mine.”
At that moment, Damien’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he eagerly snatched it from its hiding place. Reading the text, his eyes went wide as he turned and walked away from Jerika, leaving her alone on the curb. He approached the nearby side lot where his ’99 Ford Lighting truck had been parked, only to find that it was no longer where he had left it. Bringing his phone back up into view, Damien read the words aloud as if he hadn’t truly processed them the first time.
“I’m fine,” Damien recited in the most monotone voice ever as he re-read Cerise’s message. “Stop texting me, just went for a drive to clear my head. Also, you need more gas.”
Damien looked back at the empty spot where his truck had been, heaving a sigh as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“Of course she ‘borrowed’ my truck…” Damien grumbled, his head dropping.
“Need a ride?” a familiar female voice rang out of the darkness.
Damien turned on his heel, watching her emerge from the shadows.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Damien snarled, his eyes narrowing.