Run For Your Life

[Maz]

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!
あなたの人生のために走る

Runts. Bunts. Cunts.

Yes, that word. Four men who I now identify with that fancy label. All three members of The Collective. Geno, Tony, the un-beloved Frankie Starlight and last but not least, that seventies afro-wearing, Soul-Train reject of a Champion. Cassius Reed.

How dare you! How FUCKING dare you!

Your choice to intervene as a replacement referee was unnecessary and foul. We didn’t need you. Oz was ... perfectly fine. Yes, he was out but his recovery is ten times ten. You didn’t learn your lesson from 108. You didn’t learn after your life almost came to a halt. You should thank Security for them saving you because you were well on your way to visiting my side of the world.

But no worries, it will all be taken care of, Afro-Puff.

I consider myself a problem solver and despite how my interim-partner Faith may feel, I am indeed a solver to pest problems. Cassius may have gotten away with a screwjob but again, his day coming soon.

Real soon! #DevilSmirk

But to the ‘real ones’, that being Geno and Tony, this for you is your last call. You’ve begged and begged and here you are given yet another shot. Aurora, my Rori being so lenient, she gave you two yet another chance to prove yourself but with a loss, it will rock-bottom the two of you to the bottom of the ladder. I give you one thing though, you two, well three are persistent. You’ve managed to weasel your way into our matches, cause disruption and gain chance after chance at gold only to disappoint your fellow New Yorkers with loss after loss. There’s only so much stalling you can do before you are sent to the depths of Hell. There is no more waiting.

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GIVE THE DEVIL IT’S DUE!
Somewhere in Utah ... 9:30 PM


For what once a beautiful day in the state of Utah, it had quickly become nightfall with a nice field of stars in the sky, including that of the ever-so bright North Star. No clear understanding of the location but with being such the ‘lost wanderer’ Masaru had become on his feet, it could be anywhere but the clearness of it was that he was in somewhere in Utah. He and his unofficial “pet” Owl, Olly roamed at a slow to medium pace, walking through some areas where there were brush trees. Olly for what was an unlikely action, took off of Maz’s shoulder as he flew up and disappeared onto the other side of the brush trees.

"OLLY!!! COME BACK!"

Yelling out in rare form as his grungy slash ‘scratchy’ voice echoed throughout the empty space, his eyes glanced up as he heard the Owl hoot, giving his location. Maz slowly proceeded through, squeezing through the tight space as the thistles on the tree pricked him all over as he crossed over.

"COME DOWN, I DEMAND YOU RIGHT NOW, OLLY!"

Yelling in low-tone of voice at the bird, Olly again let out a Hoot! This time a bit lower in volume than previous one. Masaru eyes lowered from the trees as he immediately heard what sounded like ... giggle nearby. His head jerking right, straight ahead, then to the left. Focusing in a bit more, taking a couple steps forward, to his left, further down there was a glowing amberish color that looked to pulsate a little bit.

"Well you sly devil you, Olly! We have ourselves some company. Shall we?"

Within seconds, the Owl returned to his unofficial owner’s right shoulder. Maz continued left and straight, eyes widening as he grew closer to the site. The giggles grew louder and louder as he approached. It was more of little girls laughter. As the two approached closer and closer, standing behind a lone bush and looking through the crevices of the tree, it was an overnight camping set-up. Numerous teen girls and a few teen boys sprinkled in uniform, sitting around a campfire. There was no sight of supervision nearby at the moment. Their constant giggling and snickering came to an immediate halt as Masaru sidestepped out from behind the tree and the darkness and entered the light. The horrid look on their faces as they shriveled up. Some popping up off the wooden log, more than SHOOK out of their shoes.

"Calm now .. Calm! I’m not here to do anything, jus--Wait, is those S’MORES?"

His eyes glowing as he looked down at the collection of treats being roasted over the open fire. He walked over and reached, grabbing one as he was untouched from doing so being all were freaked the hell out. Seemingly the hot-chocolate and marshmellow edible seemed to not bother Masaru’s hands much as he bit into it. He grew overjoyed with his emotion, his feet tapping rapidly as he bit into it.

"Sit down children. I have a story to tell! You like good stories?"

No one offered to respond as Maz bit into the S’more once again, taking a moment to let it dissolve down his throat before continuing. Hearing no one answered, he immediately nodded.

"Of course you silly kids love stories. Who doesn’t!"

The teen kids, staring at the horror of Maz’s unfriendly facial appearance with that huge Owl staring at them while perched on his shoulder. They however followed directions to keep from anything going wrong. Masaru sat in between, still with the S’More in his hand, now at the halfway mark, he looked around at their horrifying faces.

"So once upon a time, there were two, no three young men from out of Red Hook, New York. Three men who are like brothers. They all cooperated as a tight-knit group. No one could get anything past them. They had control over the city ... their city. Borrowing the title as “Gangsters”, they caused chaos, trauma and simply were menaces wherever they went."

The kids who seemed not into this story all of a sudden their reactions changed. Their attention grew focused with the story being told. Masaru carried a devilish smirk the entire time as he was finished with the edible treat. Their interest grew with this storytelling moment.

"They were terrible. They had the neighborhood, the city scared of them ... That was until one fateful day and night. They felt they were untouchable until something finally touched the souls of all three men."

"Oooh, what happened?" One girl asked.

"They met their fate. See, being the three of them always managed to create situations that were in their favor always but they couldn’t outmatch things this time. They were outsmarted. Their fault quickly led to their demise and their dismissal."

Masaru started giggling with excitement as he rubbed his hands.

"They touted themselves as the best but they ran themselves downstream into a dark gutter. The Devil came for them. He was incensed on teaching them a lesson. The fun they had of ruining others ended. Those who were victims had to give the Devil his due. He ended their reign of terror. While not a savior, he really was just itching for blood."

"So what happened to the three guys?" One of the boys asked, curious.

Masaru paused from replying, adding more unneeded drama to the fold.

"Well the three individuals were reportedly found somewhere out near a campsite, dismembered. Head, legs, arms, all removed. It just proves to be careful for what you wish for!"

Masaru reached inside of his trench coat, pulling out his Katana. Immediately, the kids took off, led by the girls who screamed loudly. Masaru shrugged his shoulders as he saw the remaining roasted S’Mores lying comfy near the fire to remain warm. Using his Katana, he split one of the S’Mores in half this time, taking a piece and eating it.

"Good! Very good!"

Getting up, Masaru hid his sword back inside his trench coat before grabbing the other half of the S’More and going over the wooden log to take off back in reverse of his route. Leaving nothing but what would be an unbelieved story by kids who would be deemed ‘delusional’. All had came to a fade.

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If I had a nickel for every time one of you boys made a threat, I’d be silly rich but sadly, I’m not a betting person. You boys should thank us. Really you should, because if it wasn’t for us, you’d be stuck at the bottom of the seaboard. As I stated earlier, your persistence has blessed you with a gift and a curse. The gift, getting a shot at Rori and I for these titles. The curse being simply put in your place ... for good. When I said for you to earn it, I didn’t mean through cheap shots. That’s cowards way and being that you are supposed to be Gangsters, it’s odd to see those kind of actions out of you.

Explain to me how it would feel losing to a ‘China Doll and a Bimbo’ as you referred to me and Aurora. We worked, put ourselves through every ounce of pain, only to be disrespected by a bunch of punks? You two are the definition of Red Hook. Fucking flowers that turn red when they are facing their worst fear. Being outshined, overmatched, outplayed ... outdone physically and mentally by two of the BEST in this company. Dealing with us, we’ve given you exposure and chances.

No more.

This is it, ladies. Name call as much as you wish but those simple threats will remain unharmed. What was that you said a few days back?

The only problem I’ll be solving is figuring out how many hooks it takes to bring me into an unconscious state. That is what you said. You do know that what you tweet, you sow, right? Of course not ... The Collective fails at one thing and thats the most important thing. Thinking. You think when you choose to derive of a plan to attack from behind but up front, its a challenge that defeats you.

Hell is truly waiting for your arrival at Redemption 110. Try as you might to cheat your way to a victory but boy o’ boy will it backfire. Olly sees all and will alert. If you feel ‘froggy’ enough, he may come down and gouge out your eyes ... as a WARNING. Fight for your life blinded. It will never probably happen but a Sinner can wish can’t he?

Hm?

Have a toast. One last and final ride in the Main event and tag title spot for a while. Take it all in along with this asswhipping that will commence. Gangsters are good at taking over things and bossing others around but when things don’t go their way, they get heated. They lose their sense, their mind, their whole composure. It’s going to come to a point in that match Tony and Geno where you two are left befuddled and there will be no third to help you.

Frankie, as always, he’s going to show himself into this to save you two goons but it will still not be enough. You cannot reverse fate. You can only just learn to accept it and that is that. It will be seen that The Collective is truly just a trio of imitation thugs. Like imitation cheese. It’s far from the real thing but suitable.

Sadly the word “suitable” doesn’t equal victory here in this case.

See you in hell! #DevilSmirk