| "Trust Me" | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 26 2008, 07:31 AM (245 Views) | |
| Zero | Jun 26 2008, 07:31 AM Post #1 |
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sVo Contender
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I awoke in the afternoon. My room was cold, and my sweaty clothes clung to me like a wet blanket. I glanced around, wondering for a moment where I was, and then realised. Toronto, Countdown to Violence. I had a match in just a few days, against not one but two mighty foes. I shook my head, and climbed out of bed. I staggered downstairs to the hotel kitchen, begged something to eat, and returned to my rooms, intending on sleeping much of the day away. I climbed back into bed, and from then onwards remembered almost nothing. Someone came into my room, shook me awake roughly, and spoke of events trivial to me. I only remember being shaken awake, and I remember it was unpleasant. When I woke up again, it was evening, and I could see changes had already been made to my room. The whole place had been tidied, and my clothes, thrown onto the floor when I arrived the night before, where gone. Feeling outraged at the invasion of my privacy, I stormed to the door intending to speak with the hotel staff. Instead, just as I reached the door, I was surprised with a knock. I wrenched the door open and found myself face to face with Anthony Moretti. "Can I come in?" he asked. I looked over my shoulder, and then stepped aside. He stepped into the room almost with a flourish. He was dressed in his usual expensive suit, and wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "I see the cleaning ladies I sent up did their job", he observed casually. I slammed the door shut behind him. "You were responsible for this!?" I asked angrily. Anthony pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it before turning back to me. "Sure, I did it. Room was a pigsty when I came up here earlier, thought I'd do ya a favour. If this is the reaction I'm gonna get, next time I won't bother to hep out of friend. " He dropped into one of the wicker chairs by the window and sat his cigar in the ashtray. He invited me to sit down. "We're not 'friends', Mr. Moretti..." I began, however he waved his hands wildly. "Forget all of that, just come sit here!" he ordered. I obliged, sliding into the vacant chair opposite him. "Now, listen to me here," he began, a small cloud of smoke partially obscuring his face, "things have gotten really rough over the last few weeks. Travis is in some Mexican jail cell, Mad Max is... hell, I don't even know where Max is, and to me it looks like Bad Religion is starting to fall apart at the seams." I nodded along, mulling over his words as he spoke. Sure, things were rough, and everything he had spoken of was true. That, and the fact that we now had a hired gun on our tail. Julian Fiasco was proving to be a gigantic thorn in my side, a thorn that was more than ready to be plucked away. But then, on the other hand, I had Peter Gilmour, a so-called "hardcore legend" who decided that he wants another beating at my hands. "I think Gilmour may have taken one to many chair shots to the head over the years, and isn't quite in his right mind anymore" I observed casually. Moretti laughs aloud at this. "Bastard thinks that he has what it takes to fight Bad Religion? We'll show him, Zero. We'll beat him until he doesn't need to wear that lame mask anymore, his face will be a mask itself!" Moretti laughs aloud at his bad joke, and I manage to cough up a half-hearted chuckle. I glance outside the window while Moretti takes another drag on his cigar, and gaze over the Toronto skyline... "Hey, attention back here please!" says Moretti gruffly. I shake my head and turn back to him. "Sorry, Mr. Moretti, I just-" Again, he waved his hands. "But nothin'. The reason I'm here is to tell you that there is a very big chance that, should Travis get himself incarcerated, Bad Religion is going to be like a snake without a head. Now, Max is AWOL, so he can't lead the group, and I'm not exactly a weekly competitor. That is why, soon, I see you becoming the leader of Bad Religion." I am stunned at his words. "Me? Leader?" I splutter. He nods, and laughs aloud at my expression. "Sure, why not?" Moretti says indifferently. "Unlike Travis, you don't seem like the type of guy who will fuck his career up by getting thrown into jail. You've proven you can follow orders, after you attacked Fiasco and Gilmour on my orders, and now, when all of my other so-called supporters have abandoned me, you still remain. That’s tells me you would be a good lieutenant, Zero. A good right hand man. The kind of guy I could use to reshape my fathers vision of the sVo. Do you understand what I am saying?" I lean back in my chair, thinking over Moretti's words. This man has basically told me that I'm going to be leading Bad Religion. I rub my eyes, and find an answer. "I understand what you are saying perfectly, sir." I spread a moment examining the back of my hand before I speak again. "But, for the future, I don't see myself leading Bad Religion..." Moretti looks shocked at my words. "Then what do you see yourself doing?" he demands. I flash a smirk at him. "Before I can lead Bad Religion Mr. Moretti, I have to take care of a few small problems... Namely, Peter Gilmour and Julian Fiasco this Sunday at Countdown to Violence. After both of these men have been... 'dispatched', then I'm yours. Together we'll start over. New members, new stable, new focus. Okay?" For a moment, Moretti looks stunned at my words. Then he grins. "Fine then. Deal with Fiasco and Gilmour. Then, after that, we'll start over. I'll have to talk with Travis, and-" "Screw Travis!" I shout. "Listen to me. Williams is in jail, and you know why he is there? Because he is a reckless asshole. Mad max is missing, you know why? Because he is a drug-fucked pillhead. Meanwhile, you know where I am? Sitting right here in front of you. I'm ready and waiting, Mr. Moretti. All I ask is for you to wait until after Countdown to Violence. Then, everything will change." Moretti stills looks uncertain as he digests my words. I do my best to lay his fears to rest. "Trust me, Mr. Moretti.." Edited by Zero, Jun 26 2008, 07:32 AM.
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