| Raven RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 22 2011, 05:23 AM (25 Views) | |
| The Corporation | Jan 22 2011, 05:23 AM Post #1 |
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Lessons are not given, they are taken - Cesare Pavese. A day in the life of a man in hell!! The last speck of dirt fell, the last trace of light receded, and Raven awoke, with beads of sweat dappling his forehead and a scream trapped in his throat. As his waking eyes were greeted by darkness, all relief was consumed by frustration. He had escaped one nightmare merely to enter another from which there was none. It was a nightmare in which he was tied down to a table by his wrists and ankles in the basement of Asesino’s Estate. It was a nightmare in which each day had become the same, and every night was worse still. Time in the conventional sense - seconds, minutes, hours, and days - had faded into obscurity over the course of this bizarre incarceration, and the lengthy monotony of his days were marked only by the milestones of a newly established and inveterate daily routine. Raven wasn’t a film fan, but had he been, he wouldn’t have been averse to agreeing that his life had become a dark, sinister and twisted variation on Bill Murray’s Groundhog Day. Where Bill’s character learned the piano, sculpted ice, seduced women, and indulged in various excesses on his way to ultimate enlightenment and fulfilment, Raven's days were filled with long periods spent laying bound in the shadows - both awake and during rare and broken moments of sleep and dreams - confronted by both demons of the past and the present; periods broken only by few-and-far-between meal breaks, enforced exercise, and what Mr. Waite - as he had now stated he was to be known, believing it encouraged and maintained a more professional relationship - referred to as “lessons”. And the only thing it was leading to was an eventual and inevitable climax of revenge and blood. He didn’t know how many days he had been down in that dank, dark and increasing horrifically malodorous basement - it had felt like an eternity, in all melodramatic honesty - but he knew the dawn had broken on a bright and full day in the outside world and on a nightmare of a day on the self-contained world that had been created inside. And that another “lesson” was coming. He knew because, like everything else, the signs were the same: the creaking of the floorboards overheard, showering Raven is dust and flakes of plaster; the faint squeak of the ever-so rusty hinges of the upstairs door; the faint sliver of light shining a path down the wooden staircase. All came, as per usual, in quick succession. And then came the last, and most eeriest of all, the calm and almost cheerful whistle of Mr. Waite, a man completely contented in the work he is doing, his shadow engulfing the trail of light from the open door way. It then vanished completely as the door slammed shut behind him. 'Lesson time,' Raven whispered to himself, barely above a faint exhale. 'Lesson time,' a voice spoke immediately, again as per usual, in a cold tone; completely oblivious to Raven's sarcastic impression. In the dark, Raven's eyes had grown wide. Something was different after all - the first of three surprises. It was not the familiar voice of Mr. Waite, but the even more familiar one of Ms. Giovanni. A feeling of genuine surprise washed through him. The 'lessons' were probably the worst part of the day and consisted on watching various videos revolving around DVD - past matches from the days he himself proclaimed he was unstoppable, including all of the championship victories; recent matches including his defeat at Unsanctioned. It was his entire career descent in full Technicolor glory. Mr. Waite called what was displayed on the screen as essential knowledge, but it was enough to bore Raven to sleep - had sleep been possible. Tilting his head to the left, Raven watched the completion of Ms. Giovanni’s descent from the steps, his arm outstretched with a remote control ready in the grip of her long, slender fingers. The television flickered to life, granting the basement an even more ethereal glow. It was always enough to give Raven a glimpse of the environment around him. Like those passing the scene of a car accident, he urged his eyes to stay focused ahead, to ignore everything else and not be so morbid. But he was unable to do so; his eyes drawn dreadfully to it. It was all exactly as he remembered it from when he was here last, and all the dreams that had followed. The chair on which Elizabeth and her husband had been sitting were still there. Even the bowl of food in which Elizabeth's face had eventually slumped as she took her final breath was still present. To make room for Raven on the table, it had been placed on the floor by one of its legs; a think layer of white and green mould covered the top, looking to Raven like wet grass trapped in a spider's web. The smell emanating from it was putrid, and on the first day had brought an urge to vomit rushing forward. Since then, Raven had grown alarmingly used to it. But not for her!! A ghostly image flashed before his eyes, causing them to grow wide with shock and fear - Elizabeth, laying with her face buried in the mouldy gunk. Suddenly her head rose, slowly and with an unmistakable groan of atrophied joints and muscles, the skin of her face had begun to wear away with decay and only empty maggot-infested caverns looked towards him from where beautiful eyes once shone with life. Her mouth fell open, like a trap-door, in a toothless grin that made his heart skip a beat. Beyond her blue lips, a black tongue lolled. She's going to speak, he thought suddenly and immediately begun to wish that he was wrong, willing her not to. Please, no! It was a wish that went unfulfilled. 'Brrrrrrrooootheeeeer of mine!’ She called, her words proceeded but a hollow echoing whistle, like the sound made when you blow into a bottle-top. Raven was aware of his heart against his chest and the panicked way his lungs refused to breath oxygen in and out. The long pause ended as her mouth inexplicably opened wider - he could now see maggots here, too - and she went to speak again. ‘--this is just HALF my dick!!’ Raven's line of vision flew instantly away from Elizabeth, back towards the television, clearly recognizing the words as being not spoken not by his late sister, but by a man - or rather, a pimp - known as Rufus. He glanced back towards the shrouded corner again and felt relieved to see the apparition of Elizabeth was gone. As his breathing slowed and his heart rate lessened, a random thought sprung to mind in which he wondered just how many people were suffering from such delusions these days - and just how many he alone could chalk up as having suffered now. The steady stream of words and cursing continued to flood the basement and his ears. Raven turned his attention back to the screen, the muscles in his neck screaming with pain at having been contorted to face the opposite way for a few minutes. It was a voice he had come to know well during his captivity and although he did not know the man, it was someone he felt he had come to know just as well. He was a detestable man with seemingly no respect for women...or the English language, going by his way of speaking. The footage was currently of the scene at the movie premiere where he has some woman Raven doesn’t recognize pressed up against the wall. The scene in the alleyway between himself, Maria, and her attacker flashed briefly before his mind’s eye and filled him with a temporary rush of rage. He detested this man Rufus and entertained various ideas of what he would do if he accompanied DVD to a match against him. ‘So, how are you feeling, today, Mr. Raven?’ Ms. Giovanni asked suddenly, interrupting what were proving to be distracting and comforting thoughts. 'Shouldn't I be asking you that?' Raven retorted from within the darkness, lifting his head up as much as he could look directly towards her. 'How's the hand?' 'Oh, I'm peachy,' Raven replied, attempting to force his voice to sound like that of a jovial holidaymaker as opposed to a restrained hostage, whether or not he was able to, he couldn't tell from his own ears. He continued anyway. ‘I don't think much of the movie, though, he added. ‘We must’ve watched it a hundred times already.’ Raven knew it was a gross exaggeration on his part, but at the same time it really didn’t feel entirely like one as he said it. He’d seen enough of DVD’s review technique and the constant comparisons between himself and someone named John Cena to last him a lifetime. ‘You’ll watch it as many times as it takes for Mr. Asesino to be satisfied that you won’t make a mockery of him any further.’ Incensed by further dismissal of his in-ring ability, which was strangely annoying him more and more, he tugged unconsciously at his restraints. ‘And when will Mr. Asesino be satisfied?’ Raven asked, speaking Asesino's name with as much contempt as he could muster. Ms. Giovanni gave no answer, not until she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her hand gripped the handrail fixed to the left-hand wall and he turned back to Raven; her face seemed almost see-through the glare of the television monitor. ‘When you win!’ He paused, his lips curling into a sarcastic smirk. ‘If you win.’ He paused for a second time, seeing to be thinking, and then added, ‘Or if you do as DVD says and quit.’ 'I'll never do anything that egomaniacal moron says!' He shouted back. 'And I won't lose, either!' 'We shall see.' With these words, she began ascending the stairs, moving cautiously one step at a time into the dark that now covered them. Something overflowed within Raven now, pouring out from a well of emotion he until recently thought he had boarded over once and for all. What emotion was it? He couldn't tell...only that it transcended rage and remorse which had plagued him so intently over recent months. It intensified with every step he heard Ms. Giovanni take, and before he realized just how strong this emotion had become, his mouth opened and the words flew out. In a last conscious effort before they spewed forth like a cobra's venom, he tried to make them sound as bitter as possible. 'How rude of me! It must have been the shock of seeing you, but how are you? The hand must be killing you.' The footsteps ceased. '..And for the record, you will see on Sunday. I will not only defeat whoever I face, but I will crush him and make him wish he'd quit before the night is out. Everybody will see---' Raven paused, the footsteps had recommenced, heading towards him, though, ever so faintly, as opposed to away from him. He heard her stop on the bottom, the one that gave off the most audible creak. '---and you can tell your boss that I will be coming for him and he will be the last thing he ever sees.' He paused again, for the last time. '...And the same goes for you.' That was all it took, and all Ms. Giovanni needed to her. Raven had always wondered just how stronger her calm and cold exterior was. And whether it had been damaged. Now he knew. She flew into the television light, DVD's face glancing over his shoulder as if he was actually able to see the action. Reaching Raven, he now was able to see her bruised and damaged nose as she loomed over him, and her bandaged hand as it swung through the darkness and collided with his cheek. 'Something I said?' He muttered sardonically. She slapped him again, harder. Her own red rage coloring her cheeks and lighting a blaze in her eye. 'You don't think any of this has potentially been foreseen and prepared for? You really don't get it....do you? Any of it or what's in store for you!' 'Then explain it to me!' Raven sneered. She laughed again, cold and methodical, a similar expression came back into her face as she backed away. 'Tell me then.....WHAT DON'T I GET?!?' Still no answer came, not even laughter now, as she reached the staircase and backed slowly up them. Raven watched and listened to each footfall, the familiar creak of the door, and the bang of it slamming shut again. Raven's head fell back against the table with a thud that sent pain shooting through his skull. His mind racing as DVD continue to blather on from the television. How long he laid there, he had no clue - time was screwy after all - but with each second/minute/hour that passed, the fog of his mind cleared and he knew what emotion had fed his outburst: fear. Cold, sweat-inducing, honest-to-god, fear. That in itself made him even more fearful. It was fear of being alone in the dark, alone with the nightmare he envisioned within them that clawed their way into his brain, infesting his nightmares. The words had been to keep her down here as long as possible, to keep company - in any form - around as long as he could. He momentarily forgot his situation and tried to cup his head in his hands. He was breaking more and more inside, he could feel it, and the cure to solve the problem seemed further away than ever. **** The second surprising discrepancy in the previous stably hellacious routine started with three loud bangs, occurring in immediate succession. Raven's eyes flew open, grateful to escape the dark pit that had returned to his dreams, and turned to the staircase. Strangely, he hadn't remembered dozing off. He tried for a moment to calculate how long he had been out but realized it was futile. However long it had been, the videotape had finished and the screen displayed nothing more than static. Instead, he waited for further sounds but nothing came....not for a long time. And then the door opened. So quick and furiously did it, that the hinges didn't have time to squeak. The wood flew through the air and collided with the opposite wall. The footsteps came even quicker and Ms. Giovanni appeared from the light stemming from the kitchen above like a strange, one-eyed angel. Accompanying her appearance was the faintest sound of music - something classical coming from upstairs. It stirred a memory inside him that he was unable to place. 'Don't tell me it's Sunday already,' Raven said, lifting his head again to watch her approach him. 'You have work to do,' was her only response as she reached the table and nodded back towards the staircase. 'Upstairs. 'The moment you untie me, I'm leaving.' 'I'm afraid not, Mr. Raven.' 'Do you really think you are going to stop me?' The faintest trace of a smirk spread across her face as she reached into her suit jacket pocket. 'Of course not. I don't think for a moment I could overpower you.' From her pocket, she removed something. 'This, on the other hand, might. Do you recognize it?' She held it above her head for him to see, moving around to the top half of his body. Raven didn't, but he had an idea where he was supposed to have - it was a needle she held, most likely containing the same liquid used to bring him here in the first place. 'You're not sticking that in me.' Her hand traced up his chest, with a clear path towards his neck. 'I'm afraid I am, Mr. Raven.' Her fingers grazed his cheek, and nestled deep into his hair. She gripped it tightly, and leant in close towards his ear. 'Don't worry, though, it'll only hurt a little......unlike, say, a pen in the hand!!' Raven flailed his head about in all directions, his arms and legs desperately trying to get free....to no avail. The needle plunged deep into the side of his neck and he could feel the liquid slipping in instantly. He tried to fight it away, but the darkness felt inevitable, closing in from all directions. His last thought was a panicked one. Please! No more dreams! No more--- Thankfully, the sleep he had been sent to was a dreamless one. |
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2:32 PM Jul 11