Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
I'm Dreaming...; Chapter 22 [Showdown 29 - RP 1]
Topic Started: Jun 12 2008, 04:03 PM (54 Views)
Night
Member Avatar
sVo Legend
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
What?

Where?

The edge of the cliff rushes at me - or I at it, I can't be sure. Either way, it comes at me far quicker than it seems it should and in an instant I am over the edge.

As I plummet my arms and legs swim frantically in midair, desperately grasping for some control. I let out a loud yell and different voices echoing the same emotion around me reminds me of my rivals. They both flail as desperately as I do and the three of us seem doomed to smash into what once were jagged rocks so distant they had not even been visible, but now leap into our realities far too quickly for comfort.

My head swims with fear and out of nowhere I feel myself struck... hard. I shake my head, desperate to clear the fog which obscures my view. As my vision slowly returns I notice that I am now lower than both of my rivals and they jostle for control before finally the man in gold smiles triumphantly as a pair of wings sprout almost instantly from his back and he soars upwards towards the mountain which still floats overhead, massive and ominous but now so distant it seems almost tiny. The remaining rival and I exchange glances reflecting our mutual knowledge of our impending shared doom.

Involuntarily my body twists so that I now plummet head first towards the rocks.

There is no escape.

I screw my eyes shut and grit my jaw as my body collides with the rocks...

... silence...

Beep.

What was that?

"Doctor Jerome to emergency ward. Doctor Jerome to emergency ward." A voice echoes faintly in the distance and from the silence billows another sound.

Not just a single sound - rather a sea of voices. But there's more, wheels rattle, unseen machines beep for unknown reasons. Many of the voices around me do not bare any resemblance to a normal tone - each is tinged with something else. Some seem to scream of the pained anguish of a person unable to help an ailing loved one. Some echo a deep fear of what will soon consume them.

I open my eyes to find myself in a hospital ward.

I brace myself as I look at my body, preparing to deal with the consequences of plunging off the cliff onto the rocks, but I am surprised to find myself dressed in my ring attire - my body is bruised, battered and bleeding - but it does not appear that I am faring as badly as I thought I would. As I feel my face I am relieved that as usual it is covered by my mask. And then I catch sight of my blurred hands...

... I'm dreaming.

But this hospital seems familiar. This is a memory invading a dream. Although I just got here I know that I have been waiting a very long time. I catch sight of a glimmer of gold - the sVo International Championship. I know where we are.

London.

St. George's Hospital.

May 25th, 2008 - the night of Retribution.

I lie in my hospital bed triumphant, but battered and broken for my troubles. Still, two huge wins in one night - lying here in the hospital now, this is just a part of the best night of my life. A faceless doctor materializes in front of me, interrupting my moment of jubilee.

"Mr Miyamoto," the doctor recites blandly at me, "You have sustained multiple injuries. You suffered a mild concussion, several small metacarpal fractures, a minor cartilage tear in your right knee..."

His droning list comes to an abrupt halt as I hold a hand up to him.

"What are you trying to tell me?" I ask him flatly.

"None of your injuries are serious enough to force you to stay here," he replies, "But I'd certainly recommend taking some time off. We spoke with sVo's road manager and they informed us that in six-months you've only missed two or three weeks in the ring."

I smile proudly at him.

"Look, Mr Miyamoto, your work ethic is applaudable, but if you keep going at this pace it's going to catch up to you and you will be looking at some serious time out of the ring," his response drains the smile from my face.

"Do I have to stay here or not?" all patience gone, I am too tired to worry about politeness now.

"No, but..." I stand before he can continue and storm towards the large swinging doors, "... I'd really consider taking some time off..."

The doctor's voice trails into the distance as I push the doors and waste no time in getting out of there. A bright light blinds me and when it fades I find myself once again dressed in my ring attire, this time in a trainer's office.

An overwhelming feeling of disappointment and loss sweeps over me, far outweighing the physical throbbing from my knee or my right hand.

Glasgow.

Hampden Park.

June 1st, 2008 - Showdown 27.

A far cry from my feeling one week prior as I sat a triumphant bloody pulp in hospital - now I find myself a dejected, defeated pulp in a trainer's office. A faceless trainer examines my knee while a second looks over my hand.

"How are you feeling?" I can't tell who asked the question, but it doesn't matter.

"Fine," I reply mechanically, just wanting to escape.

"Would you like to go to the local medical facility?"

"No..."




...




I just want to rest.




...




Another brilliant flash and I find myself standing in a familiar field. It is lush and green and stretches beyond the reaches of my vision - the field of my dreams, each blade of grass representing a new dream. To my left at the edge of the field next to the forest the grass is dead, but that patch is tiny compared to the rest of the field. With a sigh I slump onto the ground and lie in the grass, staring at the night sky. The moon shimmers brightly and moonlight bathes my entire surroundings in a brilliant, but slightly eerie, blue light.

Finally able to think I can't help but reflecting on my loss. Week after week I have fought wars and more often than not, I have emerged victorious. But last week, when all had been on the line - I lost. Another chance against the champion for his throne. A real chance to gain some momentum and really ride it. A great champion he is, but I promised myself a long time ago that I would return to challenge him and be victorious.

But that chance will not be now. Another has ascended and there is nothing I can do now to fix that.

So what do I do now?

"Don't you have a legacy to build?" A familiar voice booms confidently from behind me. Lazily I turn my head to see a samurai dressed in armor resembling the sky beyond him. His face is hidden behind his helmet, but I know even without the helmet his facial features will be blurred beyond recognition anyway.

"What do you mean? I lost." I can't hide the disappointment from my voice.

"You are still a champion," the truth of his words pierce the dark cloud hanging around my head, "It is not yet your time - when you are ready you will rise up and topple the champion from his throne - when you are ready you will take his place."

His words stir something in me and a question spills involuntarily from my mouth, "What do I do now?"

"The last time you were a champion, you faced every challenge head on - this is what you must do - you will have many battles to come and you must face each fearlessly and with everything you have," his words swarm around me, comforting me, "When it is your time you will know."

I feel myself rise to my feet, lifted by some unseen force and ready for any challenge. I know that the captain is smiling his blurred smile.

From the forest in the distance I spot a silhouette stepping into the field.

Right away I know this is a familiar rival. He is wearing green and black - I instantly recognize his brilliant red hair and a fiery look in his eye. We have fought twice now, but both times in chaotic circumstances - never in a direct one-on-one clash. Although I was fortunate enough to find myself victorious both times, I know him to be a fierce and determined fighter. He wastes no time in approaching me and I see a hunger for victory and no fear in his blurred eyes.

Finally just a few short feet away from me he stops and stands perfectly still.

His confident smirk tells me right away I have a real fight on my hands. I brace myself for the fight and a smirk creeps onto my own face...

... I love a good fight.

Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic »
Add Reply

threesixty by tiptopolive of the Zetaboards Theme Zone