| The Hill; Vs Kage & Seton, I | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 15 2016, 02:36 PM (29 Views) | |
| Azrael Goeren | Jun 15 2016, 02:36 PM Post #1 |
|
The MegaStar
|
What awaits you, Henrik Goeren, on top of this hill? He grinds his foot down into the pebbles and stones that litter the narrow pathway leading up over the grassy ridge. He glances to his left and his right, letting the morning sun beat down on him and the gentle Spring breeze cascade against his pores. He can smell the lilacs and roses. He can hear, in the far distance, a train whistle blowing and a harlequin duck making noise in the pond he just passed. This is Elysium. Azrael likes to think he is prepared for this, even though this journey would have seemed fruitless to him at any other point in his life. Before this year, he never would have dreamed he would be here again. Why bother? Why remind yourself of the pain and bring it to the surface again? Why put yourself through this again? For a moment, he’s taken back to when it all occurred. A scared young man. No. Not a young man. A boy. Standing on top of this hill. Not wanting to leave for fear of what dwells at the bottom. Funny how time can turn your perceptions upside down. He spent so long at the bottom, in the pit, in the cesspool of human decadence that he forgot that initial apprehension and fear he had when he started down the slippery slope. This time, Azrael Goeren is ascending. Even with all of the horrors he’s seen in his life, he’s still frightened at what is waiting for him at the top of the hill. The scariest thing in the world is looking yourself in the mirror and admitting that you aren’t the man you aspired to be when you began this journey. Self-realization is a brutal bitch. That’s what awaits him, on the top of the hill. Still, it has to be done. This book needs closure. You ready? Michael Robinson, Azrael’s longtime friend and personal assistant, stands dutifully at his side. Michael’s nose is still bandaged from an attack by Azrael’s daughter last week, but looks to be healing about as well as can be expected. He peers up the path, not able to see anything over the crest. A hand held over his eyes to block out the sun, he manages to spot a few Sycamore trees stretching out high into the sky in the distance. Whether I’m ready or not, we’ve already made the trip. Would be a shame to turn back now. Plus, I’ve already downed like...a dozen...of those little vodka bottles they gave out on the plane for a little Dutch courage. That was hand sanitizer. No wonder my stomach feels so sparkly clean. Get my stomach pump guy on the phone and tell him Azzy needs another session when we get back. The deluxe special. Might as well clean out the colon while I’m at it. You’re doing the right thing. Ja, I’ll feel ten pounds lighter after the procedure. Still have some things stuck up there after being with that dominatrix last night. Mein Gott, Sassy Molassy and her bondage clamps hurt like a motherfucker. That’s not what I meant. I know. Just trying to lighten the mood. Defensive mechanisms and all of that garbage. You’ll be fine. A nervous laugh escapes Goeren’s lips. For all of the confidence and strength that he exudes, he’s also excellent at covering up his weaknesses. Michael, you’ve never been a good liar. His longtime friend gives him a pat on the shoulder and motions with his hand up the hill. It’s not going anywhere. We could always come back later. Nein. I’m doing this now. I’ve got other plans for this trip. Oh God. Don’t worry, it’s nothing weird. Bullshit. It’s kinda weird. Not like Fear & Loathing acid trip weird, but you’ll definitely have a few interesting entries in your LiveJournal before we head home. I haven’t used that in years. Remember when I hacked it and made you into a Furry? FoxFuckerFive? How could I forget. It got you a lot of action. I was married. You never saw so much Furry porn in all your life. They were all guys. Aw man, good times. Stop stalling. Goeren glances down at the dirt and kicks an oversized rock into the distance. It bounces off one of the hundred or so slabs of stone that dot the landscape that Azrael and Michael find themselves sandwiched between. That’s disrespectful. I don’t think they’ll mind. These people never complain much. You ready? As ready as I’ll ever be. Good luck. Tell them I said hi. They’d hate you. How do you know? Because I hate you so much right now. No you don’t. Where would you be without me? Dead on the side of the road with a hypodermic needle in my arm and an oversized purple dildo in my hand? Your hand if you’re lucky. You freak. No more stalling. Get up there. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need this. Du hast recht. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Take as much time as you need. I won’t be up there long. With those words, the crushing reality of his situation floods over Azrael again like a tidal wave. He freezes as he turns and glances up the hill, his feet feeling like they’ve been cemented into the ground. He squeezes hold of the prickly roses in his hands and feels them pierce the skin, jarring him into taking action as he takes an incredibly jaunted first step towards the ascent. One foot after another, the sights and sounds crash back into his psyche. He fought so long to forget this. Clouded his mind with drugs and booze and women and power to make this all a passing dream. Afraid to face the truth. He wasn’t made into a cruel, vicious man. He choose to become one. As Henrik Goeren rounds the top of the hill, he gives the flowers another a hard squeeze. He can already see it standing near the back fence, rising up from the earth like an accusing angel of death with eyes fixated on him. He makes his way through the tombstones, his fractured mind screaming at him to turn back and return to the safety of sin. But he’s a better man now. He shouts it down. This confrontation has to happen in order for him to turn a life of failed nightmares into a life of fulfilled dreams. Another big step over a fallen headstone and into the overgrown grass, he finds himself standing in front of them. He reluctantly looks up and sees the figures, their arms outstretched towards the heavens, looking for peace and salvation. He’s been here only twice since it happened. Once to bury them. Once to revile them. His body feels so cold, he tries to make a sound but nothing escapes his lips but a stutter and air. He closes his eyes and for the first time in a long time, he remembers her voice. We’ll see you tonight, Henrik. Be good. We love you. It hurts him down to his very soul to remember those words. They’ve been buried for so long. He’s fought for nearly two decades to forget, he’s spent so long convincing himself that he was better off without them. But right here...right now...he’s the same scared young boy who just lost his parents all those years ago. Mutter. Vater. It’s...It’s me. It’s Henrik. Standing in front of the two intertwined angel statues that mark his parents’ grave in Eberswalde, Goeren is amazed at hearing the sound of his own voice. When he made this trip back home to Germany to visit their graves, he expected to freeze at this moment. He never expected to be able to say a word, let alone get a sentence out. Emboldened by this success, Goeren swallows hard and kneels down in front of their grave. I know it’s been a long time since we talked. Too long. And the last time I was here, I said some pretty horrible things… Azrael’s voice trails off but he quickly composes himself. I brought you roses. I know this is all very Batman of me but I just needed to...to talk. I can do all the talking. That’s okay. Heh. You always said I talked too much. Guess I never learned. He runs a hand through his blonde hair and glances down around his knees. Look at the state of you. Does anyone in Germany still own a lawn mower? I’ll take care of this, okay? I’ll talk to the groundskeeper and have him mow around you. Twice even. Twice is good. I’ll leave the dandelions though. I know how much you loved the dandelions. Look at all of these weeds. Hardly fitting for a Goeren, right? I’ll...I’ll take care of it. I’ll help. Spreading out a bit, Azrael grabs hold of some of the weeds and longer grass that has sprouted around the grave. He slowly starts pulling them out and tossing them over his shoulder. There is just...there’s so many of them. I’m sorry, I’ll get them all. You shouldn’t have to be like this. You deserve so much better… Frantically picking up the pace, Azrael wildly grabs at the overgrowth and starts digging into the ground with his hands, trying to clear the area as fast and as best as he can. Breathing heavier and heavier, Goeren suddenly stops and rests his head against the bottom of the monument that bears his name. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Looking up with tears in his eyes, he clings to the base of the grave as the two angels huddle around him. I was so mad at you for leaving me. I hated you both for a long time and I know how horrible that sounds. You didn’t ask to be killed any more than I asked to be left alone in this world. But I still hated you so much for it. I blamed you for every horrible thing I did and had happen to me. I came back here and told you that. I told you I hated you both. Oh God, I did...didn’t I? Squeezing his eyes tight, Goeren wraps his arms around the legs of the statues. I didn’t want to look to you for help. I thought it would make me weak. Opening his eyes slowly, Goeren stares blankly into the stone. But I was the weak one from the moment you both died. Not because of anything you did to me, but because of the choices I made along the way. I can see that now. Maybe it’s the wisdom and reflection that time brings, maybe it’s what I’m going through with my own children but I know the fault was mine and mine alone. I brought my own world down on me. I hurt those who dared to love me and ruined my own career in the process. I deserved to be exiled and hated and spit upon because I never gave the world any reason to believe in me. Until now. Slowly standing, Goeren nods his head. I’m so sorry for the life I’ve led. I’ve let you down so many times since we left each other. Do you remember? Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you got in the car that night? You told me to be good. I failed. I was not a good man and, to be completely honest, I still don’t think I’m a good man. But I’m trying now. I really am. And that’s got to be worth something in the ledger. I’ve got an opportunity coming up to achieve something that I’ve been working towards for my entire life. I went about it the wrong way for so long and wasted so many years, but none of that is important today. What is important is that I can finally do something for the two of you after years of letting you down. I can give you both a gift. I can’t make you forget what I’ve done in the past. I can’t ask for forgiveness. But what I can do is for one moment...one sliver in time...I can make you proud of your son again. That’s the only gift I have left for you, Mutter and Vater. I should have given it to you a long time ago. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For the man that I became. You deserved a better son. The world deserved a better Henrik Goeren. A strong breeze blows across the gravesite, causing him to close his eyes tight. With his mind buzzing, there is something familiar washing over him. He can almost smell her perfume in the air. It’s not too late. For me. For us. We can start over. We can be better. Sitting Indian-style in front of his parents’ grave, Goeren lets out a heavy exhale and sets the roses down on the lip of the stone. Where to begin? ************************ I always wanted to be a hero. Even when I was doing the most horrendous things that would make Charles Manson and Gary Glitter collectively shudder, I always pictured myself doing them for the good of the wrestling industry. I was the savior of wrestling, doing the things that others didn’t want to do or didn’t have the cajones to do. When you needed someone taken out, you called in good ol’ Azzy. When you needed a life ruined or a career to end, just give the job to Goeren and watch him giggle with delight while the blood poured through his fingers. Does that seem weird to you, Frau Seton and Herr Kage? I never saw myself as the monster the world did. I was blind to it. It’s funny what we can trick ourselves into believing. But then again you two know all about deluding yourselves. Settle down there, kiddies...didn’t mean to rile you both up so quickly. And I’m certainly not implying that you two don’t have a chance in this match. I’ve been in the ring with both of you enough times to know just how tough and nasty you two can be. I still have a fucking bump the size of an A-cup on my head from your sneaky kick at Battlelines, Frau Seton. And I never can forget the impact of getting hit with one of your Crackdowns, Herr Kage. There is no doubt questioning either of your talent. Anyone who makes that mistake has already lost this match. But what I can question all day, all night and all year long is whether either of you have the guts to finish me for good. Let me say that again, mein lieblings. Can either of you end me to win this match? Because you won’t just have to beat me to come out of this one with the title. You’ll have to make sure my career fucking ends at Path of the Warrior to guarantee that I won’t be leaving Chicago as the new EWA World Heavyweight Champion. This match will not just be about titles and glory though. Kage wants to hold onto his belt so he can keep his squeeze on EWA’s scrotum just a little while longer before he loses his grip and plummets to Earth. Seton wants to give her family and friends the good ol’ rah-rah sis boom bah and prove the nomenclature of champion is always branded on her delightful buttocks. Both noble causes. But I ask again. How far are you both willing to go to achieve these little goals of yours? Because after everything that has gone on in my life, from working towards reconciliation with my daughter to finding peace with my own past, I have never been in better shape or more singularly focused on getting the one thing that has eluded me than I am right now. That World Heavyweight Championship. Winning that title lets me be the man I always wanted to be. I’ll be able to cut through the bullshit that I had infect my life for so long and stand tall with my head held high. I’ve never had that feeling before and I want it so fucking badly. I’ll be vindicated. Never forgiven, but perhaps understood. And all I have to do is tear through two of the best that the EWA has to offer. I pity you two because nothing in your careers will prepare for a motivated Azrael Goeren. As for you, Frau Seton...that little kick of yours at Battlelines showed me everything that I needed to know about you. And I love it. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Check out my nipples. Rock. Hard. You could cut glass on these suckers. We’ve known each other for quite some time, but our paths never really intersected until we both got screwed out of the title. For a long time, I never thought you had that killer instinct in you. That you could never be a world champion because you lacked the ruthlessness and brutality that all champions need in order to swim with the sharks. I was wrong. You’ve got this wicked, vicious side to you and you so badly want to prove to the world that you belong. And with 99% of the competitors in our great sport, you absolutely do belong. Pat yourself on the back and/or ass for that one. You’ve made it. Unfortunately for you, I’m the 1%. There is a HUGE difference between being vicious to prove a point and being ruthless enough to win and maintain a world title. When we step into that ring, your personal well-being goes out the window. I could care less whether I end your career or just give you a little boo-boo on the arm, I will do whatever it takes to make sure you are motionless and on your back for 3 fucking seconds to get what I want if the opportunity presents itself. That’s not evil by the way, that’s just what happens when you push a man to the brink of starvation and keep him from his meal. Anything that happens to you at Path of the Warrior at my hands is your own doing, so vagina-up and take responsibility for it. That kick to my head was the last time you’ll get the drop on me. I owe you something of a receipt for that and I’ll collect it with interest at Path of the Warrior if you want to test me. I have no sympathy for ruining you in front of your friends and family. It’s the hand we were both dealt. If this event happened in Germany, I would hope that you would give my feelings the same disregard. But you wouldn’t, would you? Because you, my dear Laura, cannot drag yourself through the shit. I can. I have. I will again. As long as it means me standing victorious with that championship belt high in the air above you, there is no depth I will not sink to. I don’t want you to vilify me for your own stupidity, Laura. You stay out of my way in this match, and we’re cool like cucumbers. You so much as nudge me from behind and I’ll break your back and have you pissing in a colostomy bag the rest of your life. You talk so glowingly about the ability to reinvent yourself? Let’s see you reinvent yourself from a wheelchair. And you, Herr Kage. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You want to push my buttons so bad, don’t you? That’s how you get your kicks with the other schwein, ja? You like to antagonize and pester and drive them all to making mistakes that you opportunistically take advantage of. It’s a hell of a strategy and, quite honestly, it's worked out well for you and your Youth compatriots. So that’s why I’ve gone out of my way to...let’s say...resolve any distractions you may decide to use against me. Check yourself, Herr Kage. Because I’ve been playing you the whole time. Not to be cryptic, but I’m sure you can figure out what I’m talking about if you rub those temples and think REALLY hard. Be careful not to crap your diapers though by thinking too hard, those Huggies cost money. So Mr. Mind Games, let’s play a wicked game of our own. The way I see it, the only reason you still have that World Title in the first place is because of a referee swap and distractions from my daughter. I won’t pretend to have things fully resolved with Grace, but without going into details about what happened when Battlelines went off the air, I am no longer worried about her serving as a distraction for this one. So cross that fallback plan off the list. And as for the referee, it seems like I would have no control over that one, ja? Except...well...have you noticed that I’ve been cozying up with Frau Vandervort lately? All of this sinking in yet, Herr Kage? A smart cookie like you should be able to figure it all out. You’re fucking with the grand manipulator here, boy. I’ve been moving the pieces around this chessboard for a lot longer than you think. There is nobody in the world of professional wrestling better at putting the odds in his favor than Azrael Goeren. I’m the real Megastar. I’m the Sensation Not From This Nation. Catch-phrases? Fuck yeah, I got em. Overabundant merchandise? It’s good to be the fucking king. I’m the best of the best at being the best, and at Path of the Warrior it’s time for midnight to strike on your title reign, Cinderella. I’ve tolerated you for a lot longer than I should have, but everything is in motion now and you can’t do a damn thing to slow me down. You think you’ve gotten in this head? Take a step back and see who’s been fucking with who. You are a sniveling coward child who hides behind others and screams from the mountaintops that his dick is the biggest. That may work with your normal, run-of-the-mill competitor here in EWA but it goes without saying that I’ve been abnormal for my entire life. I’m going into this match expecting no quarter to be given to either of you. Work together against me if you have to, but all you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable. I’ve tipped the scales and wiped my slate clean, kiddies. Everyone always said how horrible it would be if Azrael Goeren ever became a world champion. They might still be right. But finally, after all of these years...we’re going to fucking find out. ************************ Two hours later. Michael Robinson treks up the Germanic countryside, making his way up to the top of the hill. He spots his employer, still sitting Indian-style in front of his parents grave. The crunch of a branch underneath Mike’s foot causes Azrael to spin around before he motions for Michael to join him. You doing okay? I thought you said you were only going to be a few minutes. Ja, well...we had to catch up. That’s...that’s awesome, actually. Yes, mein freund. It is. Goeren gets to his feet and dusts himself off, smiling broadly at the angels who have watched over him the last few hours. He kisses his hand and presses it lovingly against the stone on each angel. Until next time. He turns towards Michael and gives him a firm pat on the chest. We can go home now. Sounds good. I’ll get on the phone and snag us a flight back to Boston tonight. Nein. Nein. What’s wrong? Not that home. |
| |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Warrior's Den · Next Topic » |








10:51 AM Jul 11