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Substances & Abuse; Talon RP 2/2
Topic Started: May 31 2008, 05:54 AM (76 Views)
Talon
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The Hero
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
A hotel room. The lights were off, save for the flickering glow of a cheap television in the corner of the room. Friday the 13th, Part III was playing, as the antagonist, Jason Voorhees stalked a teenager. Talon sat on the bed, facepaint sloppily applied, a glass in each hand.
"Why does anyone even like these movies?" he asked himself aloud, as he took a sip of his alcoholic beverage, then a sip from the other.

He had partaken in several drinks beforehand, of various brands and amounts, and it was a marvel that he was still coherent. He belched loudly, shaking his head and uncrossing his eyes. It didn't work, as his depth perception was still shot, as well as his ability to distinguish just about everything. Red looked like blue, black looked like white, the little plant in the corner looked like a stripper, and the couch looked like an alligator. "I mean, monster comes, monster kills people, monster dies. It's not even believable. Dude's invulnerable. Teenagers have sex. Teenagers die. Fucking predictable bullshit." Talon took another drink from each glass at the same time, before realizing the glasses were empty. Bothered by this new development, he threw the glasses across the hotel room. They smashed against the wall in an explosion of glassy shards.

“And another thing,” he said as he straightened himself up and moved closer to the edge of the bed, “What is with all these movies and killing off anyone and everyone who has sex? If it weren’t for sex, none of these mouth-breathers would have been born anyway. So why do they have to bother with it?”

On the screen, a character named Rick had his eyeballs popped out of his head by Jason Voorhees.
"HOLY SHIT!" Talon shouted, "Fuck that shit right up!" He burped again, holding his mouth in his hand before giggling loudly. "Ain't no way that William Vorheez can do that. No way and no how, no sir." He watched as the antagonist confronted the heroine, Chris, as the movie
pounded toward its climax. “Bitch get out of the room! Bitch! GET OUT OF THE ROOM! HE’S GONNA KILL YOU!” But Jason didn’t kill the heroine. A biker got in the way, distracting the monster so that the heroine could hit him in the back of the head with an axe.

“And that’s the problem with Jason. He’s stupid, always going after the thing that’s bothering him at the time. No big picture in there.”

“Not like Michael Myers. Michael is still the man. Tenacious, never gives up, pulls out the win from nowhere... Michael Myers always got his kill. Vorheez should have called himself William Myeerz if he wanted to sound cool.”

Suddenly, he rolled off the bed and hit his head hard on the bedside table. “Who put the Spanish announce table there?” he said before losing consciousness.

--------------------------------------------------

When he came to, he could hear the sound of "Breaking the Law" by Judas Priest. Ross. He had used that ring tone for Ross since the early days of their training. It was one of his favorite songs. Talon had always been more of a Black Sabbath and Metallica fan, personally.
"Yeah," he said as he answered the phone. His head was killing him. "Where were you last night?"
He listened as Ross answered. Something about other priorities.
"But... man... you ditched me," he said, hurt showing in his voice, "No, no, I'm just... hungover. No worries. Yeah we're alright bro. Your number one contender match? Oh... right, I forgot about that."

"What? Oh, no, I'm... I'm not worried at all. Vorheez is a big guy, but we faced big guys in training all the time. He's nothing against the Claws of Fate. I think I might be able to put him away with the Death from Above, like that idiot Soze from school." He laughed, as Ross told a joke on the other side. "No, I'm not sure if he's a shower bandit like Soze was. I'm not that interested in finding out." He listened for a moment as Ross talked about his match.

He carried on with the usual swagger and bravado. It was that part of him that Talon admired the most. The ability to look anything down with a sneer. No matter what it was, Ross always had an answer. The man was a mastermind.

And Talon was his latest work of art. He would be sure not to disappoint.

"Yeah, well, I don't even need training against a big guy, and there's no reason to train with the rookies at the arena anyway. They can train with Vorheez, he's closer to their league. He could use the training in any case. The guy belongs as a stunt double in horror movies, not in a wrestling ring.” Ross said something about ghosts on the other side of the conversation.
“He thinks he's hunting the dead?” Talon answered, “His career's going to be dead. He thinks he has demons coming after him? I'll show him the true demons in this business, the demons that have been living with me for years now. He wants to be a wrestler? I'll show him a real wrestler, and then he won't want to play anymore."

He listened for a moment as Ross congratulated him and wished him luck. "Yeah, thanks bro, you too. Oh, and yeah, I'm going to be watching the tag match intently. Those belts are ours, and soon they're coming home. Yeah, hopefully you’ll grab that one too. Yep. Bye bro." He hung up the phone and flicked through his text messages. No new ones of note. He sighed, tilting his head back against the bedside table. The menu for Friday the 13th Part III was on loop.

---------------------------------------

A loud knock on his door. "Room service," he growled. He opened the door, before clearing himself out of the way as a hotel employee shoved in a table filled with breakfast. "Courtesy of your employers," the man said. Talon nodded as the hotel employee stood by. He was waiting for a tip.

Talon looked at him, up and down. He was expecting a tip? For interrupting his peace at... eight o'clock in the morning? "You may leave," he said, his eyes no longer on the needy man, who cleared the room dejectedly. He had no time for giving tips. Especially not to intruders. Who intruded at eight in the morning. When he had a splitting, throbbing hangover.

The worst part was that he couldn’t figure whether to take the aspirin for that before or after eating. His head hurt right that moment, but it would be a shame to waste the hot food...

He shrugged. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he walked to the table that was rolled in, opened a bottle of pills, and buried six aspirin pills inside his scrambled eggs. Talon then sat down and enjoyed his breakfast, courtesy of the sVo.

"Ahh, the good life," he said as he took another bite of scrambled eggs and pills.
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