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Chapter Three: The Antihero Rises; The Storyteller: Showdown RP #1
Topic Started: Jan 12 2008, 06:02 PM (110 Views)
TheStoryteller
sVo Rookie
[ * ]
The morning sunshine lights up the small room that holds The Storyteller, washing out the night and all the horrendous events that transpired. Though it's only been a few hours since the sad, tragic incident involving another resident, life seems to have moved on. The sound of "business as usual" goes on outside the room, with people walking, papers shuffling, and random speaking.

Inside the room, however, it's a different story. The bed hasn't been touched, remaining in its perfectly made state, and the television has been off for hours. The Storyteller currently sits on the leather chair next to the nightstand, tending to his usual hobby of staring at the walls. Though he's sleep deprivated, he remains rather alert, his eyes adjusting and moving all around.

A knock at the door is heard, breaking the peaceful silence and breaking The Storyteller out of his trance-like state. He almost looks annoyed at the sound, but slowly looks over as the door opens. Stepping into the room is Petey, who looks extremely happy, holding an envelope with the name "Michael Morgan" written on it. Petey walks over, sits on the bed, and gives the good news.


"It's all been finalized."

Petey tosses the envelope to The Storyteller, who doesn't make an attempt to catch it. It falls in his lap, and he slowly reaches down to pick it up. Though he struggles to grasp why the name Michael Morgan is written on the envelope, he opens it and takes out the letter, which looks to be addressed from the Southern Nevada Adult Mental Health Services. He then begins to read it...

"What's this all about?"

"It's our ticket out of this place. It's our ticket to a new life, a fresh start... a brand new chapter, so to speak. You've been granted a transfer to a facility in Las Vegas, and we've been asked to accompany you. We've got about a week or so, and we'll be set up to get you to Vegas."

Petey looks happy, but the smile begins to fade as The Storyteller looks dumbfounded, almost a twinge of disappointment in his expression. It's a look that tries to get into the heart of the matter, one that questions motives and what's behind the transfer. Petey attempts to lock eyes with The Storyteller, but his feelings of remorse and guilt cause him to look away at the walls.

"Where's my say in this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody ever asked _me_ what _I_ wanted to do. Nobody asked _me_ if I wanted to leave. This has been my home, my place of peace and serenity, a center of creativity. I've done my best writing here, and now you're taking that away from me? I'm _not_ going. There's not a thing you can do."

"Oh really now?"

A flash of anger burns in the orderly's eyes, not happy with being defied by someone that he feels is lower class than him. He rises to his feet, locks eyes with The Storyteller, and juts his finger in the madman's chest. A look of surprise comes over The Storyteller's face, never having a reaction like this come from _anyone_, let alone one of the two people caring for him.

"You listen here, psycho. We _are_ going to Las Vegas. We _are_ going to transfer you. You can take the easy way and go along with it, or you can take the _hard_ way and we'll _make_ you go. Don't you realize what we're capable of? We can make your life a living _hell_ if we choose to."

"But... why?"

"Why? You're a well-built, well-oiled machine. You have a mean streak that I haven't seen in a long time, and it shouldn't be wasted in a fucking looney bin. You're going to be worth money, and we want our stake of that claim. It helps your career to write the book, and it helps us..."

Petey's words are taken from him, as The Storyteller grasps him by the throat. As the orderly gasps for air and clings to life, The Storyteller's eyes light with hatred, having heard enough. The Storyteller rises to his feet, raising Petey up off the ground and against the wall. Petey's eyes bulge as the gasps for air come more often, and The Storyteller begins to speak his mind.

"_Nobody_ controls Michael Morgan. _Nobody_ tells Michael Morgan what he can or can't do. Do you think that I _allow_ you to manipulate me? Do you think that I _allow_ you to convince me that I should get inside a wrestling ring and compete? _You_ are the crazy one. I _enjoy_ being violent.

Don't ever, and I mean _ever_, threaten me."


The Storyteller tosses Petey from his grasp, and Petey lands on the bed with a loud crash. His face begins to turn back to flesh tone as he gulps air greedily, and he looks at The Storyteller with a great deal of fear. This is a side of the man that he didn't expect, a side of the man he has been waiting to escape. Slowly, a smile comes across Petey's face, and he starts to provoke.

"You just assaulted an employee, Morgan. That's grounds for a transfer. Hell, that's grounds for _imprisonment_ if I choose to press charges. Look around at the world, Morgan. Nobody knows what just transpired. As far as I'm concerned, this was an _unprovoked_ attack. It's my word here."

"Your word means _jack shit_, asshole."

"Keep it coming, Morgan. Keep up the anger. Keep up the violence. You've been a puppy dog inside that ring the last two weeks. This week, I want to see a rabid fucking _animal_. This week, I'm looking for no mercy. You have that capability. You have the ability to acheive greatness, sir."

"You're goddamn right I do. I've told The Storyteller about CJ Newfield. I've told him about his rise to fame, his excellent track record as an athlete, and his ability to gain a fanbase. He's the next character in my story, the next interaction that will end up in a violent end for him."

The Storyteller -- well, Michael Morgan -- begins to settle down, and even takes a seat in his normal chair. Petey begins to regain his composure, sitting straight up and even beginning to forget of what just happened. Morgan reaches over to the nightstand, where the letter of transfer sits, and begins to read it. Unlike The Storyteller, Morgan smiles, visibly pleased with things.

"Newfield wants to talk about being 'one step closer,' as if some kind of title means a goddamn thing to me. One step closer? I'm one step closer to Las Vegas. I'm one step closer to being a full-time fighter. I'm one step closer to breaking The Storyteller and being my _real_ self...

...the person that I _used_ to be.

Newfield thinks that I have some kind of gameplan, some kind of strategy to attain victory. But as he said himself, I'm a goddamn _psycho_. There's no guarantee of what I'm going to do. That's the beauty of what I do. Whether it's a title, money, or just pride on the line, I'm a fighter."


"That's all we've asked you to be."

"I'm ready to fight. I'm ready to be violent. Newfield seems to think I'm some easy obstacle, a roadblock that's easily toppled on _his_ way to _his_ supremacy. It's just too bad for Newfield that I'm the king of the fucking _world_. Win or lose. Title or no title. I _am_ violence, sVo."

Though it appears as if Michael Morgan still has thoughts to get out, a struggle begins between himself and his _other_ personality, The Storyteller. After what can only be described as some kind of internal fight, The Storyteller ends up winning out. The chair becomes a safehaven, and The Storyteller goes from loudmouth and vulgar to calm and comatose, staring at the walls again.

"You're one crazy son-of-a-bitch, sir. But goddamn, you're going to make us a _fortune_."

With that, Petey grabs the envelope and letter, putting it into the pocket of his shirt. Looking at The Storyteller once again to insure his stoic state, he begins to walk towards the doorway. He opens the door, once again looking at The Storyteller before leaving, closing the door behind him. A final smirk emerges from The Storyteller, before we finally fade the scene to darkness.
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