A Tale of Two Monsters : Behind A Vacant Image: Psalm Five

[Silver Eagle]

“It is beautiful to hear, how even the monster inside me has started singing your name.” 

She sat there, rocking to and fro upon the chair, her sultry curls in little bunches as she cradled the blanketed package in her lap. She took the most delicate care, as if what was in her arms was the most precious little thing in the whole world. The lights were dimmed, but continuously faded from one colour to the next, a soothing and beautiful rainbow of peace and tranquility. The soft murmur of a violin, a haunting rhythm that reverberated off the walls only to meet in the middle of the room and dance a romantic waltz around her. She was so calm and undisturbed, the most peaceful bliss as she rocked the cradle, eyes closed as she breathed the free, fresh air.



“Like a child you rock the cradle, nurturing, caring. You will not let even a single ill gestured finger near,” the voice rang out, soothing as the violin it played the symphony on. Faint footsteps encircled her like a ring of fire, both warm and protecting, but deathly threatening if she came to close. Her heterochromia afflicted eyes opened wide, staring at a figure whose eyes matched her own. Black upon black was his attire, a certain desperation and anger in his own eyes, a driving force for everything he had and will ever accomplish. “You care so dearly, unlike so many others. Every movement, every footstep, every plunge into darkness and every time you rise unto the heavens… It all means something.” His breath was both poison and the cure, her ears both bleeding and healing, her eyes blinded and seeing the light. “In victory you feel jubilation, raise a bare fist to the heavens and punch the clear air in joy. In defeat, you crawl the grounds of the crematorium, searching the urns of those mistakes you made, pouring out the ashes upon the ground to relight them in the flames of redemption.” His words were intoxicating, venomous, driving her to both reason and madness. She knew what he was like, what his speeches did to people, his convincing assurances and captivating psalms. He had taken the most sane of individuals and had them bark on all fours like dogs, sent them forth salivating to sink their teeth into all who opposed him. And here he was, beaten and weakened, more dangerous than ever before and more determined to ensure his image of the world was forced upon it.



“I know what I need to do, Papa,” she murmured, a sour taste in her mouth from uttering those words, yet the fact he was here and cared enough to encourage her, to push her further warmed her heart. Her legendary Uncle was always so distant, more so than ever in this day and age, his fabled notes growing shorter and shorter, his writing more rushed and untidy. Her Mother was having her own troubles, career wise at least, mourning the fact her year long quest for everything she had wanted within the squared circle had fallen apart by a roll of the dice. At least her mother's home life was looking up, even though she was set to marry an absolute cu--



“Why take the passing of the torch when you’ve already set the world on fire?” he uttered, the violin playing the 5th Symphony, somehow more dark and cruel than it had ever been, her father whispering the words her Uncle had taught her. She stared at him for a second as he rifled off more of his speech, herself drifting off as the mere thought of his encouragement washed over her. It was his words that spurred her on to reclaim her title, it was his words that fired her up to battle her nemesis in England, his words that drove her to the Underground. She then wondered what her wife would think of these secret meetings, this advice she was given, following the Piper like a little, lost child and leaving an ocean of weeping in her wake. Was it taking his advice that drove Elena away from Phoenix? Was it his advice that led to bitterness when things didn’t go right? Was it his advice that led to such recklessness in the ring? Sophie had given her such knowing looks as of late, like she had noticed some form of change in her, some twisted new path she had taken, away from the fun loving and playful self she was so embraced for. Sophie didn’t miss anything, even when she was wrapped up with her complicated and adventurous intentions on the Blue Brand and beyond. She was the eye that watched the all seeing eye, a ghost through walls that watched over her shoulder at all times with love, affection and protection. What would she think? What could she know?



She lost herself.



“It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give an answer, all you gain is the tiniest, little fact. But give a question and you’ll look for your own answers.” The violins had now halted, as he knelt before her, peeling away the baby’s blanket that she rocked back and forth. “You have your world in your hands,” he hissed, the Rising Phoenix title being revealed, Anastasia rocking it like it was a newborn baby. “Now comes the time that you take the entire Universe.” She nodded her head, knowing what her reincarnated father required. “The entire path is laid out for you. The fires of Phoenix, the shooting star of England, the throne of Hades in the Underworld. Take it. Take it all.” He held her hand for a moment, staring into eyes, those matching eyes so exact. “The fury and anger of the Lasiewicz clan flows through you, but as does the cool cunning of the Bongartz. Let your symphony ring true, Little Wing. Let it sing to the depths of hell and the highest heavens.”



Anastasia blinked, crimson and gold then staring at Bobby B. Barabbas as she clutched her belt closer to herself. “It’s mine. It’s all mine.”

----- 

How do you make a name for yourself when you don’t even have a name? It’s an interesting thought, don’t you think? How do you become the face of a company when you hide your face? How do you identify with the audience if you don’t have an identity? How can you be the image of fear when you don’t have an image? How can your words ring true when they’re not your words?



Questions make you look for answers.



And my opponent doesn’t have either.



Whilst what he has done here is commited to tape, his strengths and weaknesses, his all powerful and sharp performances, his dominant victories over the few that he has faced so far, he has not truly been put to the test. He breezed through what has been put in front of him. Great for him, he earned this match. But unlike those he has dominated so far, I’m just a teeny, tiny, weenie bit different.



I have faced the quickest in this sport and outrun them. I have faced legends such as Jackson, with veteran smarts and all the knowledge in the world and outthought them. I have battled technical wizards such as Mora Findlay in a chess game of combat and got check. I have faced the great and powerful such as MECHA APE and Nem, and rendered them powerless. I have faced those that are looked at as some of the greatest of the modern age, such as Chris Strike, and sent them crashing down so hard that he could never got back up to the level he was at again. I have climbed to the highest heights and plummeted down on my opponents like a nuclear bomb. I have soared through the skies like a fighter jet and shot down all who entered my no fly zone. I have come back from the certainty of defeat and made an improbable victory definite. And I have done that all on my own back with the cutest little smile on my face and a spring in my step.



And monsters… I have faced monsters before. I’m sure my opponent’s manager will have rifled off a speech about his own beast. I mean, you don’t need to be extra tall and extra heavy to be a monster. They all come in different shapes and sizes, and although this one is over double my weight and nearly a clear foot taller, that doesn’t make a difference when it comes to me. After all, an elephant will run away from a fluffy little mouse. But let me tell you a story.



I had a friend once, the dearest of friends. He was the closest thing to family that I had ever had at that point. Kind, caring, silently funny. He was always there, whether I needed someone to just listen or just be there when I felt like the entire world was falling apart. He was like a brother to me, he was the greatest person I had ever met in my entire life, and I was so, so happy to have him around… But it was not enough for him. He wanted something that I could just not give him. So he turned me away, turned me away battered and bruised and bloodied and beaten and alone. His actions took everything I held dear away and I was a crumbled mess.



He went on, nigh on seven feet tall and fueled by anger and resentment and fury. He destroyed everything in his path, sitting on some broken throne of skulls and shattered dreams. The fear he drove into people with that roar of his and his painted, demonic face. His fists were like concrete and he had hammers for knees and he smashed everything in his path. Even renowned World Champions cowered and hid from him. Until one day, the same little bird whose wings he clipped came fluttering by once more, all sunshine and rainbows and starlight. She smiled upon the monster that tore her body and mind into pieces, the giant from hell itself that had consumed her entire world with hate and disgust, destroying everything that she ever treasured… And she walked right up to him and set his fucking face on fire, then pounded the ever loving shit out of him with bloody hands until he could move no more.



If you ever, ever wanted to know what you are truly facing, “Red”, if you ever wanted to know what I can do to monsters, to behemoths, to mammoths of this sport, I would search for the tale of the Songbird and GRENDEL. I would pay attention and realise that I’m not just some flashy high flyer, I’m not just a media circus, I’m not just a big top act to bring smiles to the audience. I’m the most dangerous little package in this company, and when the time is ticking during MY Rising Phoenix title defence, I will go BOOM! I will EXPLODE! And the flames of the Phoenix will engulf you, and everyone around you.



I’m not just some little girl playing at champion. I’m the real deal, and every word of praise thrown my way is thoroughly deserved. I’ve made a name for myself. I’ve become the face of the brand. I am the identity of the audience. I am the very image that my opponents fear. Because they know, they know what I can do, and yet they still don’t see it coming. They never do, and neither will you.



It’s lucky you don’t have a name, if I’m honest, because if you did have one after I’m through everyone would forget it anyway.