Post by bad guy™ on Oct 13, 2014 20:43:05 GMT -5
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October 11th, 2014: Malakai Non-Mansion Mansion, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Arriving via taxi, the not mansion mansion upon Observatory Hill was visible about a quarter mile away. It has been quite a long time since Sam had shown his face in this building. Any previous meetings between these two occurred at any coffee shop (or a while back, pub) near the upcoming event site. So when he received a text that he was being summoned to the not mansion mansion…he knew it had to be urgent. But not the matter at hand, rather the matter within the man inside the house. Samael arrives at the gates with the cab and pulls out his bag and walks up to the driver window.
Yellow Cab Driver: $40.50 sir.
"JESUS."
Samael: That’s awfully pricey.
Yellow Cab Driver: Observatory Hill is a very out of the way place. Only the elite of the Steel City live here.
Samael: Tell me about it.
Yellow Cab Driver: Mind if I ask who lives here?
Samael: You can ask. But I won’t tell.
Samael snubs his nose a little bit, giving the cabbie a smile as he reaches for his wallet and hands over a $50. The cabbie starts fumbling for change.
Samael: Keep it. Help yourself.
Yellow Cab Driver: That’s almost a ten dollar tip. You sure?
Samael: You bet. Thanks. Be well.
Samael hits the roof of the cab twice and walks towards the gates as the cab drives off.
Super-Ego: That was super nice of you.
"I know."
Id: I wouldn’t have even paid.
"I would rather not go to prison for, of all things, not paying a cabbie. Now shut up."
Ego: Yeah. Shut up Id.
"You too Ego."
Frowns across the board from those little voices in his head. Sam pulls the gate open and walks down the stone path leading towards the massive home, housing nothing but one man and walls who scream terrible memories. When he gets to the front door, as promised, there is a key taped on the underside of the handle. Sam rips the tape off and opens the door with the key, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.
"Right, he said he would be in his room."
Id: Sounds kinky. That’s not our style.
Ego: *facepalm*
Sam drops his bag near the door and makes his way down the lengthy corridor. There’s a lot missing from even the last time he was here.
Samael: Pictures.
The picture frames, full of the only memories Sam’s close friend would ever have of a life long gone, once littered this seemingly never ending hallway. Now the hallway looks even larger, all of the photos removed from their places upon the wall and their nails wedged out. Sam extends his hand along the right wall, for the first time taking notice of its feel.
"If only they could talk, the stories they would tell."
Id: Probably Horror stories.
Super-Ego: Not funny.
"Id, making light of a terrible situation is not cool. Even for you."
Id: Whatever.
Sam finally reaches the stairs but before he makes the climb to the third floor where Malakai’s chambers are located, he pokes his head around the corner to find stacks of boxes marked fragile.
Samael: It would appear he’s finally coming to terms.
Sam climbs the stairs all of the way to the third floor and knocks on the bedroom door which is that of his friend.
Malakai: Come on in, Sam.
He opens the door and walks in.
Samael: How’d you know it was me?
Malakai points at the TV, the Security Camera channel.
Samael: I should have known.
Malakai: Yep. I’m actually a bit disappointed.
Samael: Shove it.
The room reaks of cleaner. Clearly Malakai’s been prepping the place for what is soon to be a new owner…as much as Sam dislikes said owner. The disinfectant is everywhere.
"Gotta admit, guy’s accomplished a bit given the condition he is in."
Malakai is barely recognizable. His weight has dropped further than the last time he was seen publically the show after SuperBrawl. He’s skinnier, completely bald and his muscle mass is completely gone. He is literally walking dead.
Super-Ego: I can’t decide if this is depressing or just sad.
Id: Tell me about it.
"Yeah."
Snap back to reality.
Malakai: So, how are you doing?
Samael: You’ve got some nerve asking me that.
Malakai: Hey, I’m a dying old man. I can say and do as I please.
Samael crashes on the loveseat in Malakai’s bedroom, all casual like, Shawn laying propped up in his bed, covered and in his pajamas. Malakai points to the bowl on the table next to the loveseat and Ahriman grabs an apple from the bowl and tosses it to Malakai who catches it with his good hand and shines it up nice with his shirt and takes a bite.
Samael: I’m glad to see that you’ve got some appetite.
Malakai: Hardly an appetite. I just know that if I don’t eat anything, I’ll die even quicker.
Id: Well that WAS your goal right?
Super-Ego: Shush.
Samael: Well we don’t want that.
Malakai: Yet.
Samael: Ever.
Malakai: We can’t all live till we’re cracking at our physical seams.
"Yeah but we also shouldn’t die before we turn 40."
Samael: That’s true, but only the good die young. You’re the epitome of evil after all.
Malakai takes another bite of his apple and lays it bottom down on his end table, a frown coming across his face.
Super-Ego: I would apologize for that.
Ego: He’s trying to make amends.
Malakai: In my defense, I’m trying to make amends. After all, you’re here in my bedroom, laying down on my couch.
Ego: Jinx. Soda.
"Shut up, Ego."
Samael: I guess that’s true enough.
Id: Stop being modest. Without you he’d be a lonely, dying man like he probably should be for the life he’s lived.
"You act live I’ve lived one much better?"
Id: You have. I’ve been there since the beginning. We all have. Remember?
"I try not to."
Malakai: So how is it going with The Midget?
Samael: You’ve been watching closer than just about anyone. If anyone knows better than me myself, I’s you.
Malakai: Humor me. Tell me about the stuff I don’t get to see on TV every week, or in your occasional calls.
Samael: So you want a story?
Malakai: Wouldn’t be bad. Helps pass the time hearing a real person talk than the magic picture box.
Samael: Alright. So a couple of days ago I was up in Seattle at the Midgets Lair.
Malakai: Please tell me Monte didn’t really name it that, and you’re just being facetious.
Samael: The only person who has yet to utter those worse is Zmey.
Malakai: Does he even talk?
Samael: Just about ripping peoples faces off.
Malakai: Logical. Midget’s found a monster after all. But as you were.
Samael: Yeah, so I showed up, sat in the one decent looking seat in the whole pad and started getting the f*cking Spanish Inquisition. Quite unexpected, even from him.
Malakai: No one expects…
Samael: Shut it, Python.
Malakai stifles a giggle.
Ego: I thought it was pretty funny.
Super-Ego: You walked right into it.
"Wasn’t my intention."
Id: Ehh, you just didn’t expect it.
"I can easily make the three of you shut up if I took my pills."
Id: Shut up, Killjoy. You’d be lonely without us.
"Fair."
Sam clears his throat.
Samael: Anyways, I was getting the third degree from DMK. He was asking me just about every question he could think of in that little head of his.
Malakai: You think he suspects anything?
Samael: Him? No. His lemonade bitch is going to be a bit of a problem for me though.
Malakai: That Ryan dweeb?
Samael: Yeah. But DMK wanted to know about my upbringing, my current to-dos, etcetera.
Malakai: But nothing of why you came knocking a few months ago to join the KoKaine Konspiracy?
Samael: Nope. But Ryan, however, did question it. I was able to shrug him off. I don’t know how long I can keep him at bay.
Malakai: Well tell me the tail end of the story so I have an idea of what we’re dealing with here.
Samael: Alright. Well the last question he asked was about why I joined the WFWF. Everyone knows I am a Judo master, headed up a studio…the whole ten yards. Even that dipcrap knew. But why give up a stable paycheck for the uncertainty of the WFWF.
Malakai: Come to think of it I remember you telling me at the bar a long time ago when you were approached for a contract, but you never got to tell me why you accepted it.
Samael: Oh good. Then I get to tell this story yet again.
Id: Kick back, kids. This is goin’ be gud.
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December 28th, 2007: Ahriman residence, Ida, Vermont
Samael: I’m back! Work was sh*t as usual. But something interesting happened. Someone came to see me today, and I wanna talk about it.
Sam closes the front door of his house, dropping his keys on the table by the door. He sets his now trademark reverse blade sword, sheathed, down next to the table and starts to undo his judo uniform, unwrapping the middle and untying the sides.
Samael: Phoebe?
Sam starts to make his way up the stairs, sliding his shirt off, revealing a plethora of cuts and bruises on his back, shoulders and abdomen. He pulls off his leather glove with his teeth, smiling as he reaches the top of the stairs, but stops dead in his tracks upon reaching his bedroom door.
The sounds of light panting, rocking and moaning. Such soft sounds, maybe impossible to hear by most anyone, but ringing in his ears louder than a church bell on Sunday afternoon. They were unmistakable to anyone who COULD hear them. And they were right behind the door leading to the bedroom of Mister and Misses Ahriman.
Ego: Well you’ve got three choices, Sam.
Super-Ego: Ignore the situation entirely.
Ego: Walk away and confront later.
Id: Break the mother*cking door down.
"Like that’s a choice."
Temper rising, the scar on Samael’s face begins to throb. He lightly stokes down the line, smiling.
Id: I think I’m gonna win this battle, boys.
Ego: Come on Sam, use some common sense.
Super-Ego: For once, I agree with Ego.
Ego: Ack. That’s never good.
Id: Shut the hell up.
Samael: I know what I’m about to walk into.
"Pardon me for thinking about all options."
Id: You only need to be pardoned if you kill one of them.
"Clever."
Super-Ego: NO KILLING.
"I wasn’t thinking of it."
Ego: Clearly Id disagrees.
Id: Never said I disagreed. Just putting it out there as an option.
Super-Ego: NO KILLING.
Id & Ego: SHUT UP.
"Shut up. All of you. I’m just going in."
Samael walks to the door, turning the knob and pushing forward as he enters the room.
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October 8th, 2014: The Midget’s Lair, Seattle, Washington
MusclesGlasses: So what’d you do?
Ryan: You were fighting with voices?
DMK: How high were her legs?
Samael leans back in his seat.
Samael: Hey, I agreed to give you my ‘why’ story since you were so damn interested.
Id: Jackasses.
"Tell me about it."
DMK: Well you can’t leave us hanging without answers.
Samael: Drink man, I filed for divorce. Ryan, Zmey’s not the only one with problems.
DMK: What the f*ck about my question?
Samael: You don’t get an answer, Midget. You have to be this tall *raises his arm high* to receive an answer.
DMK: If you want to be a part of the KKK, you’ll answer me.
Samael: Since when have I ever responded well to threats lil’ guy? And besides, with the sh*t you’ve gotten us into, I can’t straight up leave and you can’t go it without me anymore. You asked a question, I gave you an answer.
DMK: F*ck you.
Samael: *Leaning towards Ryan* He really needs to grow his vocabulary.
DMK: AGAIN WITH THE SHORT JOKES.
Samael: Get used to it.
Ego: HA.
DMK is not amused.
Samael: So where’s Zmey off to anyways?
DMK: Why the f*ck do you care where Zmey is?
Ryan: Well they do have a match together this week. Strategy talk?
Samael: That was the idea.
DMK: Zmey doesn’t talk to anyone but me. He does nothing unless I tell him to. He is my monster.
Samael: …and my partner.
DMK: He’ll do what he does best. Destroy. Mangle. Kill. Stay out of his way and you’ll get a win.
"D.M.K. Isn’t the little guy clever?"
Samael: Hold up. I’m here for a common interest, remember?
DMK: Yeah. And that common interest was to see Zmey succeed. You’ll get to see that. If Zmey decides to let you have some fun with his new toys, then he’ll tag you in. Just stay the f*ck out of his way otherwise.
Silence.
Ryan: Sam, can we talk outside for a moment?
Samael: Can you hold the MDS off long enough to get out the front door?
MusclesGlasses: Here.
Glasses tosses a crack rock at Samael, who catches it with his gloved hand.
Samael: Didn’t know you did anything other than drink and eat.
MusclesGlasses: I like seeing crazy, alcohol rainbow pigs.
Samael: *Whispering to Ryan* Is it bad that I’m getting used to this?
Ryan: You grow numb to it.
DMK: WHAT THE F*CK DID HE SAY?
Samael: I said I had some virgins to piss on and voodoo to do.
DMK: I KNEW IT. I F*CKING KNEW IT.
Samael flips DMK the bird as him and Ryan walk out the door of the lair, tossing the rock at the MDS and smiling in the corners as they rip each other to shreds. Ryan opens the door and motions for Samael to walk out.
Samael: Thanks.
Ryan follows suit and the door closes behind the two of them. Samael reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a pack of smokes and lights up a Pall Mall.
Ryan: Didn’t know you smoked.
Samael: While we’re pointing out the obvious, I don’t know how you…or anyone, can stand to be around that guy for so long.
Ryan: He pays.
Samael: I figured you were a temp. For as much hatred as he holds for just about everything and everyone who is not of the supreme Midget race, he operates like a Jew.
Ryan’s eyes widen in disbelief that Sam would say that, but he lets it sink in and cracks a smile out of the corner of his mouth.
Ryan: I guess.
Sam wipes off the chair conveniently placed on the outside of The Lair with his gloved hand.
Ryan: But it’s not even dirty?
Samael: Checking for needles. I feel like I need a tetanus shot every time I come around here. Anyways, *Sam takes a long drag and exhales* you wanted to talk about something?
Ryan: Yeah. Why are you really here?
Samael: I could ask you the same question. You’re actually somewhat sane.
Ryan: You don’t fit in here.
Samael: Pot. Kettle.
Ryan: You just thanked me for holding the door open for you. This organization is being run by DMK for nothing but selfish pleasures…
Id: Thank god for that. We got sh*t to do.
Ryan: Pleasantries are hardly the norm around here.
Samael: I just tossed a rock of crack and let three midgets fight to the death over it. Clearly I know the norm enough.
Ryan: I just can’t help but think you have some ulterior motive.
Id: Sh*t.
Ego: Sh*t.
Super-Ego: Uh oh.
Id & Ego: Really?
Samael: I do.
Id, Ego & Super-Ego: WHY ARE YOU TELLING HIM THAT?!
Samael: It’s the truth. I’ve got another reason for being here aside from helping Zmey get to the top.
Ryan: Well, you’ve got my attention now.
Samael: Child, please, I had your attention the moment I joined the group. You had someone with an IQ higher than DMK’s height in centimeters to talk things with. But the question is, can I tell you my plan in confidence? Trust you won’t rat me out to DMK?
Ryan looks a little uneasy.
Ryan: I suppose. Depends on the gravity.
Sam tosses the butt on the ground and smooshes it with his boot.
Samael: Well, it’s incredibly selfish.
Ryan is practically salivating.
Ryan: I’m listening.
Id: Don’t you f*cking tell him you nimrod.
Samael: I joined up because I needed something from DMK, something only he could provide.
Super-Ego: Welp, we’re toast. NOW he chooses to be honest.
Samael: I want my tag team championship back. And I need Zmey as my partner to ensure I get what I want.
Inside Sam’s head, Id, Ego and Super-Ego just fell out of their seats in disbelief. Keep that image in mind, it’s going to happen a lot in the future.
Meanwhile in the real world, Ryan looks to be on the verge of crying in laughter.
Samael: What’s your problem?
Ryan: THAT’S what you wanted? Your ulterior motive?
Id, Ego & Super-Ego: Nope.
Samael: Yep.
Ryan: Hardly something to be so secretive about. After what Drakz and Kyzer…
Bells, sirens, lights and whistles go off in Sam’s head. The magic words have been spoken.
Ryan: …did to you and Raider, frankly I think even DMK had the mental capacity to know your old gold was on your mind.
Samael: You sure DMK’s that smart?
Ryan: Ehh point taken.
Sam laughs, getting up from his chair. He walks towards Ryan, placing his hand on his shoulder.
Samael: Look kid. My goals are incredibly selfish. But I won’t let anything get in the way of the true purpose. I will never let anything happen to this group.
"Not until the moment is right to bring this group to its knees."
Ryan: I’m placing a lot of trust in those words.
Samael: Now THERE’S something you aren’t used to in something like this. Trust.
"And for good reason."
Id: Yep.
Samael: I’ll catch you in a few days then?
Ryan: Yeah, probably.
Samael: Good. Do me a favor? Keep the MDS fiending. They just got a little present. Have DMK keep them hungry.
Ryan: Any particular reason?
Samael: If there’s any people I don’t trust more than DMK and Muscles, it’s the S.O.S. And with Garrett and Ratboy at our heels, I don’t want to see me and Zmey in a potential six on two spot. Even for the monster, those aren’t great odds.
Ryan: Doubt DMK even thought of that.
Samael: Zmey is DMK’s investment. If he’s not thinking about crack or whores, he’s thinking about money. Something tells me he might already have that in mind, but just needs confirmation that it’s not his cocaine driven paranoia getting the best of him. I’ll catch you later. I’ve got some virgins to piss on.
Sam simply exits stage right.
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October 11th, 2014: Malakai Non-Mansion Mansion, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Malakai: And?
Samael: And what?
Malakai: Find any virgins to piss on?
Sam grabs a pillow from the couch and tosses it at Malakai lightly.
Samael: I can’t believe that the f*cker thinks that pissing on virgins is what Satanists do.
Malakai: We all know it’s the Muslims.
Samael: Don’t they get the seventy two virgins?
Malakai: The more the merrier, right?
Samael: Point taken.
Malakai leans back and starts to lay down.
Malakai: So do you trust this Ryan?
Samael: F*ck no. But Ryan is close to your target. And my target. He, like DMK, serves as a means to an end. I trust no one in that group except for Zmey.
Malakai: Why would you trust the monster?
Samael: Because he’s the only one with nothing at stake here. He is literally nothing but a weapon. Uncontrollable, sure. But he has no reason to love, hate, lie or steal. That’s all the Midget’s doing. Zmey is literally nothing of nothing. He’s got nothing in him, therefore he is impossible to not trust impeccably.
Malakai: And when DMK turns him loose on you when he finds out our little plan?
Samael: That’s why I have to get closer to him. Somehow. I have to get Zmey to turn on DMK. It won’t be easy, because Zmey knows nothing but DMK’s word. But that’s the good thing about a half empty vessel. You put oil in with the vinegar, shake it up and hope my side’s on top. I get Zmey to turn on DMK, you get what you want.
Malakai: My dying wish.
Samael: Give me some time, and consider it granted.
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October 13th, 2014: Shrine
Samael closes the door behind him, leaving him in complete darkness inside the quietest room of his house. He feels around until he grabs ahold of the candle he was looking for and strikes his lighter up and puts the candle on blaze. At his feet, a drawing of the Sigil of Baphomet. Sam kneels, placing his lips upon the mouth of the monster, his head now on the floor, being supported only by his elbows.
The spot that I have been placed in is nothing more than a test by whom I worship. There be claims of false Messiahs and Prophets sending men out to do their bidding for them, whilst I remain here, a faithful servant of the true savior, the one who was capable of tempting even the purest into unjust deeds. But alas, I am a mere mortal. The Chosen mortal, mind you, but just a mortal. Never do I expect my actions to gain me any favor for Him as he puts his favor in no one. We are nothing but his slaves, and as such it is our job to please him. Nothing more, nothing less.
But because of His way, I am faced with something I had been awaiting for many years. The chance for my personal desires to come to fruition as is his teaching. It’s funny, if you think about it. The Midget is convinced that Satanism is all about pissing on virgins and voodoo, but it’s about nothing more than achieving your own selfish desires and ungodly wants. Whatever will satisfy that craving gnawing at your soul, for even a short amount of time, you do with no questions asked. No conscience. No regrets. Just do. Sounds vaguely familiar, does it not? The moron talks a whole lot about my pissing habits, when in reality the KoKaine Konspiracy is nothing more than a real life, tangible example of the doctrine of Satanism. Too bad the fool is too dumb to realize this. Then again, the last thing I want is more DMK in my life. And that’s my selfish goal. One of them. To ge DMK out of my life as quickly as possible. And that first step comes forth this week.
In order to get what I really want, I must first lie and betray the KKK by running ranks with them against two people the leader deems threats. Now look, I may be a dark, disparaging jackass, but I am still human. I have instincts. I can tell a threat a mile away. Penny Shannon and Cameron Stone are far from threats.
Penny Shannon shows her pathetic side (which is, admittedly, herself as a whole) every night, alone in her room. Pitiful girl, she was forced to earn a paycheck on her own because the true head of that beast was taken out by Shawn Malakai at SuperBrawl when he won the WFWF Championship. She lost the woman who used her as a plaything for all that time. Sure, Trace Demon turned Shannon against Quinn long before SuperBrawl in order to try to weaken Scarlett, but Shannon’s got something you can’t afford to have. A conscience. She may not regret what she did to Quinn, but she lost something dear to her and wound up getting used in the process because the pesky little b*tch was too dumb to realize where all of the signs were pointing. Her obscurity.
I can’t even waste more time on her. It’s making my stomach churn. I have no sympathy for people like her. You NEVER allow yourself to be used. You want to fool a person into thinking that they’re using you to get close to them then snap their neck from behind? I’m all for that. That’s what I’m doing myself. But she’s jumped from Quinn to Demon and now to the SOS, whatever that garbage is. At first I thought maybe she was a kindred spirit but when she started jumping around from person to person for support to avoid the oncoming shadow of obscurity I realized that the little c*nt is good for nothing more than taking a few pricks and shots from the roster and being disposed of as improperly as possible. That day has come. It’s not in me to show any mercy, so…you know, I’ve got my mission and she pisses me off. I really want my hands on her. She could only dream it was the way most guys in the locker room would want her. This is going to be a nightmare for her.
And as for her partner? I know him sooooo much better than he would care to admit. When you travel with someone for so long, you learn a thing or two. Unless you’re DMK and like remaining in the tiny shadow in the corner. Stone was close to a friend. I don’t have many of them outside of Malakai, but he’s about as close as anyone’s going to get for me. I know him. I know his history. I called a good portion of his in ring history, and I know a lot of his dirty little secrets. Above all else, I tend to have the skill (sometimes annoying, but this time beneficial) to learn a lot about a person because I allow them to speak without interruption. They like talking to me because I come across as the "strong, silent" type.
It’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for. We’re not silent because we have nothing to say. We’re simply gathering intel for future reference.
And that intel leads me to believe that Stone is scared, and I mean legitimately scared to fight me. No, not because I am so physically imposing or I have a seven foot masked monster and a coke-hyped midget death squad at my disposal in my corner, but he’s afraid to fight Samael. Cameron Stone sits behind that desk every week, and whenever he goes into the ring with the façade that he is a big tough guy. Sure, he’s menacing looking to a normal person, but look not at the exterior, for its what remains internal that defines a person. Stone once had an edge, maybe one that could have made my right boot shake once, but he a bigger p*ssy anymore than the cats DMK brings around the lair. Not that that’s a bad thing if you’re aiming to acclimate into society…but he just lost someone close to him. Very close. What he had is dead. What I have isn’t. Jealous much? Deal with it.
The SOS, with Cameron Stone in parenthesis…they mean absolutely nothing to me anymore. But I’m not a completely heartless Satanist. I will make sure Penny realizes her usefulness is gone, and Stone is better off in the grave as quick as possible. My desire is to win, not to torture, but torture I will if I must to achieve what I want.
These two are nothing but a mere stepping stone. The FIRST stone. I am a Satanist. I am a member of the KKK. I have a selfish desire that fuels me beyond the imagination of anyone possible, and my satanic doctrine and the motto of the KoKaine Konspiracy is going to ensure I achieve it. But in order to do so I must gain the trust of DMK, the only man who can get me what I want. In order to gain his trust, I must first give Zmey conflicting thoughts. Bring him to my side, and Stone and Shannon will allow me to do that this week. The first step towards my ultimate goal. Gain that trust so I can back that f*cking midget into the corner and get him out of hiding.
We’re all in this for selfish desires, right? Well when DMK is all alone, and no one else to turn to, he is going to selfishly desire for protection what I desire to destroy.
Bring it on, SOS.
Bring it on, Garrett and Ratboy.
Bring it on Muscles, Ryan, MDS and DMK.
All of you, throw your best at me. I will top it, because nothing will stop me from my ultimate goal. To achieve the ultimate goal of a friend soon to meet his own demons.
Ridding the world of the only man on earth to come close to laying claim to my Satan’s crown.
Come out, come out wherever you are.
I always get what I desire.
It’s time to come out and play, Michael Kyzer.
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I dont know good luck 
it, do it live. That'll give me more liberties moving forward. 
