Ichabod looks out the window of the hotel at the four inches of snow covering the ground. He looks up into the sky and sees the neverending flakes continuing to rain beautiful white hell upon South Carolina. He hears on the radio of the many car accidents and road closings. He also hears of the impending four inches to come in the night. Hearing the moans and groans of the announcers remind him of Gian bitching about his past. They also remind him that he has a match to train for. Ichabod looks to his workout gear, but then looks to his boots and jacket. He smiles and puts them on.
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The heavy jacket is bearing the sweat out of Ichabod as he runs through the snow. He doesn't slow or stumble, but listens to his heartbeat and regulates his breathing second by second. His brow furrows as his foot nearly gets stuck in something, but his momentum doesn't let it stop. As he watches the nearly deserted road he runs beside, his mind wonders to Gian and his silly words.
You know, Gian, for such a tormented soul, I'd think you must have had the language part of your brain tortured in some way. Why? Because it obviously isn't functioning properly. A self inflicted mission? Infliction is when you cast harm or discomfort. This mission has caused, nor will cause me any discomfort. Rather I enjoy making fun of and destroying you holy rollers. My path will be derailed? Paths run on rails now? Derailed means thrown off rails. Maybe during your tortured past you didnt' have time to learn the meanings of these words, but for that I cannot blame you.
Ichabod turns down another street and sees a truck desperately trying to pull a car out of a ditch. He runs by them without even looking twice.
Another thing you need to work on is your listening skills. Obviously you didn't pay attention to the twenty or so promos that Brimstone cut with you in them, preaching God and repentance and all that bullshit he spouts. Obviously you didn't notice everyone there agreeing with him, including you. Of course you could have been nodding off to sleep, or even crying to yourself about your tortured past. Whatever you were doing I don't care. The point is you are in with that crowd of hypocrites. And if you joined them, and they preach a certain mission, and you are against their mission, then you are even more of a hypocrite than they are. Woah, that was a lot of words, let me slow it down for you, so you can understand. YOU, as in Gian, ARE, exist as, A, indefinite article, HYPOCRITE, if i have to explain that one there is no hope for you at all. The other thing you need to learn to listen to is my words, for they are the very verses of your doom. I never said you had to follow rules. Never did that word come out of my mouth. I said warnings. Warnings you dumb shit. Get it straight.
Ichabod bends down to relace his boot. He suddenly stops and looks up thoughtfully.
But none of that really matters to the match does it? How stupid you are, how well you listen, none of that will come into play in the match will it? Maybe you should learn that what we are inside ourselves doesn't always win in a match. You call me a little kid trapped in a man's body. You say I am insecure, a totally misinformed judgement. You say I didnt' work my way up, when I have been in this business five times as long as you have. You speak of Selena when I can vouch for her a hundred times more than you can. But that doesn't mean I will win or you will win. What it comes down to is who wants it more, who is more focused. That, Gian, is how I will show you who the real man is. While you focus on whats going on inside my head, how insecure your opponents are, or how fucked up your past was, I will be steadily destroying you and putting my boot up your ass. Because instead of focusing on your feelings and emotions, I focus on your weaknesses, namely your stupidity. I mean come on, you joined a religious group and claim to not be religious. Damn, you are a true genius, son.
Ichabod stands up and nearly doubles over in laughter as he sees he is in front of the RDW Myrtle Beach Cafe.
This just made me realize who you remind me of, Gian. I once knew this guy named Ghost. He cut promos just like you. He took exactly what the other guy said in
Ichabod stretches for a minute and continues to run through the ever-piling snow. Onlookers see him and give him odd looks wondering what the hell he is doing.
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Ichabod sits in the gym, his hair wet, and a very wet jacket hangs in the corner. Ichabod is getting his breath under control, a slight wheeze from the cold still burning in his lungs. Arctic would have loved the run, except he probably would have thought it was too hot...
You know Gian, there is a lot you don't know, and a lot you have yet to learn. One of the first things is I am not a backstabber to my friends. Not once have I ever turned my back on a friend. I've been turned on, and I've lured enemies in through the guise of friendship, only to destroy them and make them look pitiful as hell. But never have I turned on a true friend. You are sorely mistaken, just as you are mistaken when you think you are going to win this match. My drive to make everyone of you self righteous bastards fall miserably to a shameful obscurity wills me to win against everyone of you, not just to win, but to crush everyone of you one by one until no more stand to embarass the WoW, and the world with your hypocritical bullshit. Gian you say if the Dark Force interferes, I will have hell to pay. What a joke. Rage I have beaten easily. Draven, he's as bad as you, except he always has some lame chick on his mind. Brimstone is too busy holy rollin to get his head straight enough to piece together an attack, let alone a defense. And the rest of the members, well, lets just say they are like the Mexican Jackhammers of this federation. They are here for our comic relief and to be punching bags for the higher ups. They are to be used, just like I used Selena to get at Rage. And your use Gian? Merely to give the Dark Force fans a bit of hope that their verbose demon who follows God will take out this redneck. And your use to me? To dissappoint your fans, your friends, your stable, and mostly, you. Get used to dissappointment, Ghost- i mean Gian.
Ichabod gets into his boxers and slips into the soothing heat of the hot tub. He lays his head back and centers his mind, trying to reach that peaceful spot that Gian probably had warped out of his mind by whatever pointless bullshit happened to him when he was younger. He reaches it and senses his ka. He sees clearly now without opening his eyes. And for now he is at peace.
