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| Karnivale vs. Infection; Under the Big Top Match | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 18 2010, 06:50 PM (328 Views) | |
| Mr. D | Feb 18 2010, 06:50 PM Post #1 |
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The SCW Owner and Leader of the Nation of Moderation
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Two for One Special Stacy Kissinger, Drew Weilacher & Matt Bishop vs. Shilo Valiant, Masquerade & Marina Trent Grudge Match SCW Tag Team Championship Under the Big Top Match 2 RP limit per person Deadline: 6:59PM EST Saturday, February 27, 2010 No redzone in effect. |
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| Strange | Feb 19 2010, 10:45 PM Post #2 |
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The Parody of Clarity; The Full Metal Maverick
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OOC: Once more I start off small to get us started. Good luck you guys. Expect a second one probably with a lot more in it Just giving fair warning. Enjoy!Edit 1: Had to fix the damn links [align=right] Theme for the Masquerade Edition of Karnivale Kapers Hehehe… HAHAHA… HOOOHOHOHOHOHOH…. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! Ok... ok... BAHAHA HAHA HA HA AH AHAH AAAAAHAHAHA! Alright, I'm good. I'm good. Whew. Now - -WAHAHAA HAAA HAHAHAHA HA HA HA! OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN HAHA HA! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT HAHA THAT THE LEADER OF THE WAHAHAHA! ... (SEVERAL MINUTES LATER) ... Ok...Ok I am done, heh, but seriously! I have every reason to laugh. You all saw it! You all couldn’t believe it. Greg Cherry was pinned in the middle of the ring fair and square… by me. Remember when I said that him running away wasn’t funny? Well it isn’t like this time, because THIS is hilarious. Cherry, you’re supposed to be the leader of the Infection. You’re supposed to be the guy whose going to challenge Jake Starr for the SCW title AND challenge Zero for the IWC title. Yet you get pinned in the middle of the ring, with no interference… by me. Well, there’s only to explanations for that. Either I really am more kick ass awesome than I thought, or you really… REALLY suck. I think it’s a bit of both, because honestly that was comic genius when your face got all scrunched up after I nailed you in the face with the Hand of Midas. Incidentally, I better give that back soon. Zero will want it back. Alright so the boom came and now Karnivale has three titles in their camp, and let me tell ya, we know just where to put it. Unfortunately, Karnivale having yet another title has caused some unsatisfied fellows in the SCW. Without a doubt, Karnivale is strolling around SCW with massive targets on our backs… which means only one thing. WE ARE POPULAR! Oh this is every little girl’s dream come true… and it’s mine! I just wanna say that this is the happiest moment of my life! In fact, everyone is invited to my villa for milk, cookies, and a huge helping of discussion into how awesome Karnivale has been since they formed. I mean let’s recap. Since November, so four months, Karnivale has captured and kept the SCW US, Tag, and Adrenaline titles all at once! How kick ass is that? So now we move forward to the big union pay per view between IWC and the SCW! This is like hot sex with two hot people. You just KNOW it’s gonna be good! So who is Karnivale giving the finger too this time? Infection? I LOVE THOSE GUYS! Fantastic! We got Infection again in a match we made! Oh wait, there is a special stipulation to this specialty match. If we win, Infection doesn’t get a tag title shot for as long as we are champs, but if they win, we can’t get a rematch. Well, yeah, that’s only fair. I mean we’ve only beaten them in different match types every single time. I think the score is like six to nothing, and WE’RE in the lead! So yeah, it seems only fair that if Infection were to get a win here that we wouldn’t be entitled to a rematch… IN LA LA LAND! Seriously, how does Infection justify this? I’m terribly insane and I still can’t make their request sound anything but a means that if they pull a rabbit out of their asses, they don’t have to do it again. Can’t blame em because pulling a rabbit from one’s ass sounds painful. Not as painful as an elephant making love to a mouse, but still quite painful. You’re right, that IS a terrible image. I apologize. But you get my point. How can a team, who has lost every single time one of their members went against one of Karnivale’s… and lost, make the demand that if they win this one time, the obvious better team can’t get a rematch clause. I call it cowards insurance. Infection wants to steal a win, and then run away like their leader. But they don’t know they structure they are about to step into. It’s the Big Top, Infection. You can’t run and no one is going to help you! You’re gonna be stuck in there with two of the most sinisterly sadistic psychos who ever wore makeup! What’s worse is you’re gonna be dealing with one of those clown’s girlfriend, sorry… MATE as Shilo calls her, and she’s PISSED! I mean it, Stacy! The girl is over the top, red lining, seeing red… temperature at boiling point, ready to kill you where you stand. You REALLY should have laid off the whole attacking her thing, Stacy. I tried to warn ya, but you just wouldn’t listen.to me. Now you got her to contend with and believe me, the last thing you want is her to get her hands on you. I mean Shilo and I can beat you down, that’s pretty obvious. Marina though… she wants to kill you, and if you take her for granted, that is exactly what she is going to do. As for Drew and Matt… really guys. This dance is getting old even for us. I mean, seriously, you’ve thrown everything at us and we just keep beating it down. This joke’s been played so many times even I have forgotten the punchline. So the time has come to end this running gag, and I can’t think of a better place for this chapter to end than under the Big Top! ==================== ====================== February 20, 2010 Mask of Mission ![]() And the referee hit his hand once, twice, no three times! All of a sudden, the greatest moment of my career had been changed. It had just been that very moment when I slugged Greg Cherry right across his pit marked faced (it’s a joke, so let me have it), but getting the pin about 3 and a half seconds later made it even better. He just laid there with his big dopey eyes staring up at the ceiling while I was leaping around like a Mexican jumping bean with my new title. The Adrenaline title of SCW. Oh it is so shiny and golden. I have worked so hard to get this bad boy, and now it can rightfully be called mine! Oh Infection must be really pissed off right about now! I mean Cherry’s gearing up for this huge match and not even can get past some worthless clown. As I stand alone in the ring, and my wicked theme music is playing while the fans are chanting Masquerade and Karnivale. Gherry is outside the ring crying like a little baby! He can’t stand to look at anyone else who would see his façade has faded and the world sees his true pitiful; weakling self. He runs up the ramp sobbing even louder, seeking out Drachewych to comfort him. Meanwhile the new Adrenaline champion, that’s me, is loved by all and cheered for in drowning love… It is glorious! And then…. I wake up. The first thing I feel is that feeling of landing from a large fall when I wake up. You ever have that? I hate that. So anyway, the sun is shinning and for the briefest of moments I can’t even remember where I am, who I am, stuff like that. Then I remember my dream, and I just figure it was some dream. But then… then I see that my SCW Tag team Title belt has a companion to it. The identity of said new comer cannot be denied. It IS the SCW Adrenaline title, which means… it wasn’t a dream. I really DID do the impossible. I really DID pin Greg Cherry in the middle of the ring. More importantly, Stephen Strange, Aka Masquerade, IS a singles champion in SCW, and most importantly, I was champion of the Adrenaline. All that time being the Full Metal Maverick and then teaming up randomly with Shilo Valiant had all paid off. I just laid there looking at my new belt like it was some hot new lover I had acquired last night. (NO THAT ISN’T SICK YA BASTARDS! I WAS REALLY REALLY HAPPY ABOUT IT!) Then all of a sudden, the full magnitude of what I did swept over me like a fever and I suddenly felt wide awake. Wide awake and fully insane. I got dressed in my usual street clothes, rushing out the door and past Shilo who was still in his bath robe, walking down the hall with some sort of newspaper. He saw me run by, but it didn’t register to him till after I was at the stairs. I was sure he would get dressed quickly and try to follow me. Yeah… he did. But I was already on the roof when he got up there, fully clothed. I was yelling at the top of my lungs. ‘Good morning world! I am the adrenaline champion!’ Some random voice yelled back from somewhere else. ‘Yeah good for you, ya retard. Now either jump or shut up! I’m trying to score over here!’ ‘Hey!’ Shilo yelled back joining me. ‘Artie? Is that you?’ ‘What the?’ he replied… ‘Shilo Valiant?! I am so sorry, I didn’t know it was you.’ ‘What the hell are you doing in a hotel with some hooker when you owe me 300 large for your last installment of YOU KNOW WHAT! Do I need to come over there and see just where my money is?’ ‘Oh… no sir. Um… forget I said anything.’ We heard the window from wherever that bastard was close and we shared a laugh together. We always found cowards like that humorous (Hence why we usually laugh at Infection). ‘Is everyone a client of yours, Necro Wing?’ I asked him, wanting to slug him the arm for butting in, but I didn’t. ‘This is Los Angeles so… yeah, pretty much.’ He said with a shrug. ‘So what the hell are you doing up here besides yelling like a damn rooster?’ ‘Well… I’m gonna be honest with ya, Shilo. I am going to jump off this rooftop.’ ‘Oh I see… well I guess if you already have plans for the day then… WHAAAAAAAT?! Hang on rewind. You’re gonna do what off the what?’ ‘umm… Jump… and the second word is rooftop.’ Shilo took a look off the rooftop as the building was easily twenty stories in the air. ‘Why the hell would you wanna do that?’ ‘I’m not going to tell you. You’re gonna laugh.’ I said to him, backing away, preparing for a running start. ‘Actually, I am more worried about what you took this morning, and if I can get some.’ ‘What’s going on?’ came the voice of Claire Voyant as she and Marina made their fashionable entrances onto the rooftop. Thank god it wasn’t raining. With those t shirts that they were wearing… (Yes I am being sarcastic. I will leave it up to you viewers to figure out why). ‘Nimrod here thinks he can fly. He wants to jump off the building.’ Claire looked around for some reason as I tried to explain it. ‘Well when ya say it that way. It just sounds so dumb, Shilo.’ ‘Ok,’ he responded with a voice more deadpan than Stacy Kissinger during one of her phone conversations with Drachewych (That’s right Infection, Big brother clown is watching you!). ‘Explain it to me so it doesn’t sound dumb… or crazy.’ ‘Look, everyone said it was impossible for me to beat Cherry.’ ‘I didn’t.’ Shilo piped up. ‘Me neither’ replied Marina. ‘None of us did. In fact, didn’t you just make a couple hundred thousand cause you bet on yourself winning against Cherry, Stephen?’ Claire asked raising her eyebrow. ‘Hold it!’ Shilo said raising his hands. ‘Dear God… Are you rich again, Mask?’ ‘No… I never stopped being rich the first time. I just went to that ‘can buy anything I want’ phase of being rich. Not quite Bill Gates, but I’m better than Ted Turner. But that’s besides the point.’ ‘Then why do we need to fly. You’re so rich you can buy a fighter jet! Hell… buy two. Then we can go stop the war in Iraq! It’ll be fun. We go overseas, bam bam bam… we’re back before lunch, and the Iraq people thank us for putting up a street in our honor. They’ll even have a McDonalds there. How is this a bad plan?’ Why did Shilo always have an answer in the form of blowing something up? What a crazy little guy. ‘No! I wanna fly…Everyone says it would be impossible, and I am going to prove them wrong right here right now. I am going to make like Dumbo and fly!’ ‘Ok… do it.’ Claire said with a shrug. Shilo and Marina looked over to her like she suddenly sprouted a second head on her shoulders. ‘Go ahead. Make like a bird and fly.’ ‘Well, thank you, Claire. Least someone is supportive. Alright stand back.’ ‘I don’t like this, Stephen.’ Marina said with a concerned tone. ‘Yeah me neither.’ Shilo replied with a frown. ‘But when ya die… can I have your stuff?’ ‘No one is going to die tonight… so says the flying mask! CHARRRRRGE!’ I ran forward, hitting the ledge before I realized it and leaping off. I hovered in the air for a few seconds… before plunging to the earth like a damn rock. Claire watched the whole thing, and just as I leapt off, she turned to Shilo. ‘This is a promo, isn’t it?’ She said with a smile. Shilo looked over to her with a smile. ‘Oh yeah.’ ‘His idea?’ ‘Uh huh. He said he wanted a fresh approach to dealing with the Infection.’ ‘This is supposed to be fresh?’ ‘Fresher than any state Stacy Kissinger has been in for a long time. So… yeah.’ Marina put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Shouldn’t you freeze it now, Shilo?’ Valiant put his hand up to her, a smile growing on his face. ‘In a minute… I wanna make him sweat.’ Just as he finishes that sentence though, there is a loud sound that sounds remarkably like something hitting the solid Earth. Shilo hears it, and his smile suddenly disappears. ‘Aw… crap.’ The three ran over to the ledge to see a small sized crater in the earth. It was the perfect size for a good sized Adrenaline Champion of the SCW realm… but as to where that individual (which was me by the way) was… that was harder to discern. Claire whacked Shilo in the arm almost immediately. ‘You idiot! You just vaporized Stephen!’ Shilo just keeps staring at the crater, his face is blank. It is as if he can’t believe what he is seeing. Claire, on the other hand, can’t stop talking. ‘You were supposed to do one thing. Freeze the shot. But no. You had to be a smart ass and now… you turned one third of your team for that Supershow into pancake batter! No not even batter… you turned him into a freaking meteorite! Look at that crater! He’s probably half way to China right now!’ ‘Actually… I made it ALL the way to China.’ Everyone turned, including Shilo. There I stood, breathing heavily, but now decked out in a strange looking black kimono that had masks sewn all over it. ‘YOU!…’ I said pointing to Shilo. ‘WHAT… THE… HELL?! That really hurt! I mean I don’t know if you know this, but it is HOT down there before you hit China. Seriously, I almost got burned!’ Shilo raises his hands slowly to feel my face and pull my cheeks (my face cheeks ya pervs). I think he was trying to prove I was real. ‘But… how did you…HEY WAIT A MINUTE! Now I KNOW this is impossible!’ He said crossing his arms, snapping out of his surprised stupor. ‘How the hell can you get to China and then back here so fast?’ I looked at him like it was the dumbest question in the world. ‘Umm duh… time difference.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘Well ya see, China is about 12 hours ahead in time, so I took a bus and kept going around so I essentially went forward in time until I reached the other side, which is here where it was in this time.’ ‘That doesn’t make a lick of sense! I mean really. It’s so far gone that not even Captain freaking Kirk could make sense of it.’ ‘It doesn’t have to… you forgot to say freeze! Now, we are going to try it again, but this time, I am going to make sure you don’t forget.’ ‘Oh yeah?’ Shilo asked with a grin. ‘How’s that?’ ‘Excuse me for a minute.’ I walked past him, over to Marina, scooping her up in my arms immediately and leaping off the building again. Shilo watched the whole thing shaking his head. ‘Son of a bitch… ok Freeze!’ ‘What?’ I called out to him, unable to believe he had called it so fast. ‘A little quick on the trigger Cool Hand Luke.’ And I was right, because there Marina and I stood there, suspended above in the air quite higher than Shilo and Claire. We hadn’t even started to fall yet! ‘Oh… right. Alright well go ahead. Fall.’ ‘I can’t, Shilo.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You told me to freeze.’ ‘Alright alright… unfreeze.’ And down we went. Shilo counted two seconds then said ‘Freeze’ again. THERE we go. The camera (in case you haven’t deduced it yet Necro and Mask fans, this IS a promo and we apologize for making you think otherwise at first, but we always do enjoy surprising our fans once in a while) looks at Claire and I just before we hit the ground. My face is INCHES away from grass. ‘Hmm’ I say, ‘I smell grass.’ I suddenly broke out of the frozen state, landing on the ground squarely on my feet. ‘But please kids… grass or weed is no laughing matter. It causes impairment, hallucinations and many other wonderful things. There is no freeze button in real life. When you think you can fly, as pot can lead you to, there is no where to go but down when you leap off a building. And you won’t go to China when you land. So please… say no to being stupid. Or you might end up like Infection. They have already jumped off the building. Problem is that they are just taking forever to land and they are making an awful noise while they do it.But at the Supershow, they are finally going to land, and it won’t be pretty. Then again, nothing about Stacy was EVER pretty. So please, think a lot before your do the pot. This has been a Public Service Announcement from Supreme Championship Wrestling. Now if you will excuse me…’ I walk inside the hotel, and run up the stairs quite quickly. The camera, I know, is staying on Marina who stands there. Within a few seconds we here a ‘AAH’ but in a fun way as Shilo Valiant goes crashing through the earth right beside the crater that I caused. From above, you can hear my voice. ‘Marina… honey… can you bring up the camera?’ ‘Sure, Stephen.’ She picks up the camera, and now it’s like Blair Witch as she walks up the stairs leading. Along the way, she gives a little commentary of her own. ‘Stacy. You think I am weak? You think that you can assault Karnivale and not pay the price? When are you going to learn? Every time you’ve tried to ambush us, you just make us madder and then they bury your train wreck of a face in the ring. How many times do you have to lose to us before you finally get tired of being squatted like the disease carrying mosquito slut that you are? I honestly hope that the boys will let me pin your shoulders to the mat, because I want you to have that on your resume that you were pinned by the Cerulean tear. Maybe that will put you in your place, and teach you to stop trying to match Karnivale. Your leader couldn’t even do it… so what makes you think you can?’ It’s a good question too, and she opens the door to the roof, walking over and flipping the camera to look at me. ‘He’ll be back any minute now.’ I say pointing over the roof to where the crater was below. ‘They are going to bill us huge for the lawn maintenance. I just know it. ‘Bishop… so you’re the new vocal one of the group. Well at least you know how to speak English. So that’s a plus. Alright, as for your little demand, yeah we accepted it, but no one buys for a second that you did it to be cool or in control. Ya did it cause, like your leader, Greg Cherry, you’re just a bunch of featherless chickens. We all know that you guys are Zero and Six against us. You’re bound to have a lucky day and win, right? Well no doubt you are counting on that happening in OUR Big Top! Then, we can’t bother you anymore for the titles, which leaves you unchallenged by obviously the best tag team in the SCW AND IWC, yeah I said it. Karnivale IS the greatest tag team in both federations, and if IWC has a problem with that, they can come find us and prove us wrong. Got it? But back to Infection… we get that you’re desperate and we know that you’re gonna try and win by any means necessary. There’s only one problem, fellas. You - -‘ ‘BANZAI!’ Shilo immediately emerged from the stairway door wielding his OWN samurai sword! ‘You have violated my honor, Mask-San’. He even spoke in a better Oriental voice than me! ‘Prepare to kung fu fight!’ ‘Ohssssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaai! KEEEEEEEEEEEYO!’ and with that we launched at one another and the screen froze with that cool real life picture becoming comic book art. Ya know like in that movie from Disney with the super hero kids going to school or something. Well it’s like that. And I know what you are thinking. Samurais are from Japan. How did Shilo get to Japan and me to China. Well to that I answer with this… GO GET A FREAKING LIFE AND STOP ASKING SUCH DUMB QUESTIONS! This has been another episode of Karinvale Kapers. Join us next time when I finally make the best purchase of my life and give the greatest gift of all to Karnivale! I’ll give ya a hint, folks… it involves FUN! Once again, this is Masquerade saying… if not begging Infection to ‘Make Me Laugh!’. Ooooh… somebody stop me… HA HA! ============== ========================[/align] Greetings one and all. This is Stephen Strange. I know that Karnivale enjoys making jokes, but if you will permit me to be serious for but a moment, I can discuss with you a most serious matter. Yes, we have a lot of fun doing all sorts of wackiness in the SCW… but now our sister efed runs the risk of becoming as SCW is, infected. Douglas, I feel it is our duty as citizens of SCW and humanitarians of humor to warn you about an epidemic that has gripped SCW fiercely in its clutches. It’s called ‘The Infection’ and aptly named because at the center of it is sick central with Stacy Kissinger. She, and her cronies Bishop and Weilacher, serve Drachewych and Greg Cherry, and they infect SCW with their bad taste and boring promos. I mean really not a good joke from a single one of em. IWC needs to protect itself from this brush with the infection, because if you are not careful, they can infect YOU! SCW has found its cure though, in the form of laughter. Two clowns have miraculously discovered that the Infection is weak against those of charisma… CARNIVAL CHARISMA! But IWC does not have such masters of the macabre, so we ask you to take proper precautions when you invite the Infection into your door. Side affects may include rapid boredom, nausea, indigestion, drowsiness to an insane degree, and a desire to vomit vehemently out of every orifice. Be wary, IWC… and use protection when dealing with Stacy Kissinger and her Infection! As for Infection themselves... I leave you with this little song that will hopefully inspire you to plan ahead for what awaits you when you are trapped under the Big Top. Thank you America, and Good night. Masquerade's Plans For The Infection |
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| Marina Trent | Feb 27 2010, 06:02 PM Post #3 |
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The Black Swan
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____________________________________ It is a search like no other; a quest embarked upon by vulnerable women from every age… When one struggles with the discovery of that mysterious find, that object of wonder, that spectacle of beauty, that… Marina Blasted dress, which is waiting for me. Somewhere… You bring Claire. Claire Thank goodness you have me. Marina Stop listening to me think. Claire I don’t have to, you’re practically screaming it. Anyway, I know you need me, girl. I huff resignedly and hack another atrocity onto where it belongs on the clothes stand. We’d been out for already an hour and still I’d found nothing suitable or to my liking. Nothing I’d certainly wish for in this lifetime. And hopefully ever, as long as I didn’t turn into an Infection groupie - not that there are any, Bishop, don’t let Mr. Pin-in-your-pants get too excited - club-slut in a future life. Bleugh. This was as ridiculous and droning as an Infection promo in the first place. Another few minutes, and I will have to fight not to stab myself with a coat-hanger, putting me out of my misery. By now, I was roughly flicking through clothing racks in frustration while Claire kept her distance and methodically eyed out potential purchases like a hawk, darting out when she may have found something decent and considered it for mere moments before it was rejected and placed neatly back in its place for another buyer. If I saw out the corner of my eye correctly, the store assistant was giving me the evil eye as I man-handled their clothes. Excuse me if you only stock pieces of scrap that only Kissinger, the sow, as I now ‘affectionately’ refer to her as, would love to wear and consider ‘sty-lesh.’ I yank my hands away from the rack and indulge myself in shuddering with disgust, pretending to clean my palms on my dark, navy skirt. Heading over to Claire who was busy checking a price tag on a green mess, I cross my arms in a huff and wait for her to put it back so we can move on with our hopeless search. Since departing from the Kings of Shadows indefinitely, Shilo and I only had on hand and available to us what we packed in the instant and what was necessary. The few belongings of ours, left, were a mile away, underground, possibly watched in the chance that we’d return. We wouldn’t be going anywhere near the Kings of Shadows, however - not anytime soon at least - which meant ‘supplies’ were needed. At least they were the words Claire had used. Claire and Masquerade, of course, were unaware of our situation concerning the Kings of Shadows - never have been - and did not question the apparent homeless state we were now existing in, lodging from hotel to hotel every few or so days. Or the fact that we brought a healing pet raven with us everywhere. I’m surprised Claire has held her silence, despite the fact I’m sure she’s curious and probably has thought to ask about it all. I wouldn’t know about Mask, though. Shilo hadn’t said anything. Let it be known that I was content with what was in my suitcase. There was no need to torture myself with this endless search of the impossible, treating - note the sarcasm - my poor eyes to sights that would make Kissinger and her Infectious cattle, cream. Oh dear gods, no. Not that image. Plus, if I continued with the livestock references, I’d soon be proclaiming myself a vegetarian and there was no chance I was allowing for that. I cover my hand over my eyes in vain and try to think of other, less revolting and scaring things. What, so, we’ve met them so many times in the arena that they were now truly embodying their namesake, infecting my mind’s musings? Charming. Next I’ll be hearing voices that sound frightening like Kissinger, whining and screeching in my head about god-doesn’t-want-to-know-what. I whimper out loud in horror. Claire Would you calm down, we haven’t been looking for that long. Lowering my hand, I sigh and watch as she returns the garment, if you’d call it that, to the rack. Marina It’s not that… I rub my eyes. Marina Well, it is, but wait; how long do you expect us to spend looking for one dress? My companion turns her head to laugh lightly, watching my incredulous expression. Claire Two dresses. Marina I’m not going to last an entire day, Claire. She returns to scanning the racks before her, shifting the clothing aside with extended arms. I throw my arms up in defeat and begin to pace. The other customers begin to stare. Claire Yeah, I know. And I thought you were a strong girl. Marina Woman. I am a strong woman… Except when it comes to shopping. I scrunch up my face, annoyed, and resolutely head out of the boutique, hoping Claire receives the hint to follow. Thankfully, after a few moments, I hear her footsteps behind me and I slow to allow her pace to meet with mine as we continue our search through Toronto’s Eaton Centre. Being the largest shopping complex this side of Canada, you’d think it wouldn’t be difficult to find two decent, neat dresses for a semi-formal night outing with your male counterparts. I groan internally as Claire pulls me into another store. As soon as she found out that Shilo and Stephen were planning on taking us both out for dinner this evening, mere days before the match, she insisted I relent my conservative nature in regards to my suitcase of comfortable and beloved clothes to find “something worth a lover’s time and money.” Marina There is nothing wrong with the black dress I have back at the hotel. I’ve lost count how many times I have voiced this fact to the mystic who has now resumed her fashion hunt, yet again… A pink number was now being scrutinised and I removed it gently from her grasp, speaking deliberately as if to a child. Marina Shilo loves that dress. She rolls her eyes, turning away and allowing me to return the pink horror that isn’t even worth covering Kissinger’s rash-plagued body. Yes, kiddies, it was that bad. I follow Claire over to the other end of the shop, mouthing her next words, expecting them after having heard them again and again in response to my last. Claire But he will love what we find even more. Marina Says Karnivale’s lady of fate and fortune, herself. I grumble a further “whatever” and entrust to simply looking from afar at the pieces hanging from the clothing racks in disinterest. This store didn’t look promising from the beginning and I was already prepared to walk out, but I exhibited patience for Claire, because we were here for her too and there was no doubt that her judgement of fashion in general was much more reliable than my own. If that wasn’t already obvious. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what I liked, of course I did, however, most of the time, I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it. Claire, on the other hand, always knows what she needs and wants; it always works in the opposite manner for her, this search. The dress is in her mind already and it is simply a matter of hunting for a what she sees. And I’m working with nothing. Lovely. All the same, if anyone was going to find something worth wearing, for both of us, it was Claire. Correction: if anyone was going to find something exceptional to wear and in the space of a few hours, it was Claire. Thank goodness for miracles in the form of Karnivale’s gypsy. Claire Alright, let’s have a break and get something for a late lunch. I repeat: thank goodness for miracles in the form of Karnivale’s gypsy. Letting out a small cheer, causing another round of shoppers to stare, I walk with Claire out of the store. ____________________ The coffee works wonders on my friend and now it was time for her to work her magic. After I’d finished my berry danish and licked my fingers clean of the sticky glaze, Claire pulled me into BCBG by Max Azria. Why hadn’t she taken me here earlier? Within ten minutes we were in the fitting rooms with armfuls of pieces, escorted by the hope that they looked as good on as they did on their hangers. If we couldn’t decide upon anything we tried on, here, there was no hope. It didn’t comfort us - or solely me, Claire enjoyed this ‘suffering,’ I suppose - for these were desperate measures. ? So? Can I check you out? I hear Claire from over the other side of the fitting room door as I poke and prod myself in the dress. My teeth grind, the only response I give to my friend as I twist and turn, considering myself in the mirror. Claire Marina? I sigh, dropping my hands from my hips to open the door and let her see. She stares about my mid section for a moment, a little bemused and I feel the cruel sensation of blood rushing along my neck and into my face as I blush. I shift on my feet and put my hand to my stomach, nervously. Marina What’s wrong? Is--it’s too tight, isn’t it. I know, but all the other ones were quite the same and… At least this is kind of modest and I like the sleeves, too, and I thought the neckline was okay, but I guess not--I don’t- Claire’s rich laugh shocks me from my babbling reverie and I feel my face flush further, my voice stuttering and fading. My daring is lost and I refuse to turn around, back to the mirror to check how red I have become. My torturer in the form of Claire Voyant does exactly that however, and I cringe at the sight of my myself. I feel her arrange my hair, gathering it in her tanned hands and placing it behind my shoulders to expose the form-fitting, black dress. Claire Yep… Shilo will like this more. I remember to breathe. Marina I am going to faint if you don’t stop, this blushing is making me dizzy. She grins at me in the mirror as I reconsider myself in the well-made and assuredly expensive dress. I refrain from spending money where it can be used elsewhere for more sensible and necessary purposes, but today I had to make an exception before I went insane. Sane-insane, sane… insane… Claire There you go, if that’s not good enough then even I give up. I run my hands down my sides and over my hips, wrapped in the elastane. Marina No, it’s okay. I like it. As Claire turned to head back into the fitting room cubicle alongside me, satisfied, I (finally) realised she too had changed into one of the dresses she’d chosen to try, which was silly because it was near impossible with how much of a model she looked. Feeling a little bad for my uncharacteristic lack of observation, I place my hand on her shoulder, catching her attention and encouraging her to turn so I could admire her. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that and the stone white of the similarly fitting dress made her skin glow with its natural tan. Marina I hope you’re buying that, because it suits you like a second skin. You look stunning. She grins with the “I know” sparkle in her eyes and walks back into the cubicle to change and I do the same, secretly taking pleasure in returning to my navy skirt and grey sweater. We pass on the rejected items to the store attendant and proceed with securing our purchases before making our way out of the boutique and then the complex completely. I exhale an immense sigh of relief as we meet the Toronto city air, massaging my neck with my free hand, the other holding the pristine tote labelled with our brand of choice, purse over my left shoulder. Eat your heart out, Kissinger-I-shop-online-for-Made-in-China-club-wear. Dusk had fallen, the sky darkening and warming itself with orange, and the street lamps illuminated our path as we walked casually. The balls of my feet were sore, my calves tensioned, but there, in my chest, stayed relief. How did women survive this, torture themselves like fashion-masochists, only to return over and over again, butchering their self-worth and their bank accounts for material and some thread? I was brought up a little differently from the average girl, yes… But if I had to deal with such a quest again, anytime soon, I was outright refusing, no matter what Claire insisted. Although, if I predicted correctly, after our evening out, Shilo would be the one doing the insisting, should my purchase please him. A little--okay, a sizable part of me hoped. My mate in question, and Masquerade, were currently elsewhere preparing for the Pay-Per-View match that was scheduled in the next couple of days. At least that is what they told us. Who knows, ‘preparing’ for the male counterparts of Karnivale could entail everything from jumping off cliffs to getting themselves inebriated on something unidentified… Necro! It pays to be a patron and benefactor of the Necro-Merchant. I chuckled internally, purposely extending my stride to step on a dry, crunchy leaf, listening to the unusually satisfying sound of it crush underneath my laced boot. Ah, Infection; funny how such a casual action, subtly macabre in nature, reminds me of you. Makes me wonder what sound Weilacher would emit if you did that to the shriveled entrails he calls his genitals… Probably nothing really, I’d imagine they’re dead. Although, not that that’d ever have stopped Kissinger… oh dear lords. I literally shake my head, hoping to rid of the thought before I emptied my stomach onto the sidewalk, choosing it to be a good time to let my meditations return to a healthier, less moldy state and acknowledge Claire as she spoke about tonight. Marina So, we’ll meet you there. Claire Yep, probably around nine. Stephen refuses to tell me where they’ve booked, so… I hope I don’t have to bet on my cards that it isn’t a fast food restaurant. I have nothing against McDonalds, okay, but even I have to draw a line if I just spent a fraction of my salary on a designer dress for it. Marina A nice one, though. Claire Yah, true, worth it. Stopping at the slate steps of Claire’s hotel, I watch her meander up them gracefully, the young men in cadet uniforms looking a little flustered as they gaze at her from their assigned places at the hotel doors and taxi docks. Marina Thanks, dear. She pirouettes to face and answer me with her elegant smile. Claire Don’t mention it, gorgeous. See you later. I leave the drooling hotel attendants to eye her through the glass and chrome doors before hopping off the steps and continuing my way down the darkened street. The hotel in which Shilo and I were currently residing in, with Genesis, was a little further to walk from where Claire was - a few blocks. Tomorrow afternoon all of us would make our way to New York City for the Two for One Special Event where, yet again, we were battling Infection; although it was hardly a battle, make note. A battle required two sides of play. And this was barely a war. A methodical culling of feral infestation at strategic intervals to prevent immunity and revolt. It seemed, and for a fair while this had been the case, that Infection remained to fail to step up their game and meet Karnivale on equal footing. We, Karnivale knew this; SCW knew this; the audience, our fans, knew this. It was only a matter of time before all the dimwits who, for some unknown reason, out of mere idiocy and, or complete lack of sense - which, by the way, I did not question for a moment - were content with remaining mentally impaired by the moronic faction that we continued to beat, time and time again, come to understand this evident truth: Infection were no match for Karnivale. Period. Fin. Roll credits. Yet, in our infinite generosity and charitable kindness, we extend a final challenge to them. On our terms, of course, what else was there to expect? Hence, we will, without hesitation, put an end to their pitiful advances. There was no doubt for Shilo and I, Masquerade and Claire, that we all had had enough of their droning tirades and sickening attempts at meeting us with offenses and defenses in the arena - sabotage, interference and whatever else had gone down. Fucking infants… As if we hadn’t proven to the SCW world that they were in no place or status against us; of no worth to challenge us in the ring. Still, Karnivale was kind and merciful and, true to ourselves, we tolerate the invalids… of course until they are found pinned and defeated by our hand. Again… and again… and again. Exhaling into the brisk air, I watch as my breath forms into wisps of cloud, undulating and raising up into the lamp light that my form breaches through and leaves. This is the time of day, evening that I find my peace. I savor this environment of light, cold and quieting sounds of night of downtown Toronto. While Shilo would rather I not walk anywhere at this aging hour, alone, he understood when I insisted that this was a source of solace, rare it may be to have this time to myself. At least here my thoughts were given a varied opportunity to breathe as much as their host, curing in the city air. I walked leisurely for over fifteen minutes, making my way slowly to the hotel. There was a small alley which I had passed earlier today; I didn’t take much notice of it then and I didn’t now, except for gazing momentarily over at the garbage containers lining the adjacent buildings’ brick walls. In that moment, and it was the last thing that I believed I would see, huddled on its feet stood a small child. I froze and stared. Someone had punched steel through my chest. Or it felt like it. I wanted to run, to bolt far, far away. I stared at this child as if it was something poison, and yet I felt like I could eat my own heart in sorrow. I was suffocating, my legs turned to lead, my hands becoming numb with the rest of my skin. Realising that I wasn’t breathing, I quickly took an intake of breath, which only startled me to whip my head around hoping to see if anyone around was responsible for this child; praying someone would walk straight past me, take its hand and be on their way as if there was nothing wrong - nothing right about it looking so lost. In that moment, having turned back to watch it turn its head to me, my sight blurred and I was lost to a place I fought everyday to forget. ____________________ The no talking in the car wasn’t strange. Mommy and Daddy were always very quiet and I didn’t mind, it was nice most of the time. Why dare talk when it only displeases them? “A lady keeps to herself,” they said. Watching the houses, buildings and streets fly by, I enjoyed watching the colours blur and meld, prettily. Not very much did they take me on their car trips, so I wanted to make the best of this, zooming here, turning there. Oh, but I made sure I sat up straight, because Mommy was always watching in the mirror in case I slouched. My hands remained folded in my lap, but my head was turned to look over the car door and out into the suburb places we sped past. I wanted to ask where we were going, but… I thought better of it for the moment. Daddy said something about a treat, which I thought was just them deciding to take me in the car as well. A feeling told me it was something… something… My questions were lost quickly to my daydreams and I dreamt of going to the circus that had been advertised to come to Aurora, not far from home in the next couple of weeks. It would be so lovely if I could go - I was hoping. My favourite were the girls in those tutus, in the air-- no, the divers! Oh, they were pretty. I smile out the window, imagining twirling acrobats, lights and colour, not taking much notice of my parents’ stern and blank faces. Nothing strange… Eventually, Daddy turned into a big car park - it was huge! - and drove slowly around until finding a park in between two big cars. Those four wheel ones, they had funny tires. I stayed in my seat, until I was told to undo my belt and follow my parents out of the car. Mommy’s “hurry up” said that I was coming with them, and I quickly freed myself, pushing the door open as Daddy unlocked it from the outside. I slid out carefully, moving out of his way and waiting patiently to see where we were headed. My confusion sparked as I saw the big shop place and I looked wonderingly to Mommy, who simply walked upright alongside Daddy through the car park. Nothing strange… no, they looked uncomfortable. Which was really strange, I mean, they didn’t smile much. Like the kings and queens in stories. I loved that. I loved them. Skipping a little, I hurry to follow behind them, swinging my arms slightly with my steps, happy to be with them out of our home. There were a lot of people, some other kids, too and it was very interesting to watch. Some babies, some big girls… What was that? It was dark outside, so I couldn’t see. Oh, a cat. Looks a bit scruffy. Poor thing, probably doesn’t have a home. Mommy Marina. I whip around to see my parents ahead, jaws clenched, looking impatient. Mommy Don’t dawdle. She turns away with Daddy. As I run to catch up with them, they take each other’s hands before starting to cross the road in front of the big Wal-mart shop; I’d seen these on television, sometimes, but had never been to one. They do not wait for me at the people crossing, so I hesitate before I see a car approaching on one side and I quickly run across the road. They’ve already gone through the automatic doors and past the beeper machines as I rush in next to them, looking up in the hope to see them look back at me. But… my brow creases as they keep walking and suddenly I’m feeling a bit cold. Playing with the edge of my shirt, I follow quietly behind them, watching my feet step-step-step on the glossy floor until I see Mommy guide Daddy into a place with racks of clothes for girls like me. This is what Daddy meant for a treat, probably! I bound past them, turning to show them my smile and I don’t take much notice or care now of their lack of expression. Daddy Look at what you would like… precious. We… He looks to my Mommy, pursing his lips, strangely. She turns her head to him a little, considering me with watchful eyes and I feel my smile fade. Mommy We… will be back. Daddy Yes, we’re going to find some clothes for your mother, over there. He gestures behind me and I turn to look for a moment, before returning my eyes back to them. That cold feeling is in my tummy again, though I think it’s staying now, growing into me. They’ve never allowed me to look for clothes on my own, and never at a place like this, but I do not want to upset them and nod gently. Marina Yes, mom. Yes, dad. For a bit, they look very strange and uncomfortable and I think maybe to ask if I can come with them, instead. I am happy to wait and help Mommy, to look for clothes for me another time with her. I liked shopping very much, but something was… They turned away and walked together around some racks, towards where they pointed, hands not together anymore. I chewed my lip, now worried about having been left on my own. Watching the top of their heads disappear in the distance, the cold feeling starts to make me sick and I jump off my feet a little, trying to spot where they had gone to. I see nothing of my parents. For a minute, I stand there, where they left me, battling between the will to find them and the will to obey their orders. Yet, the more I stay, the worse I feel and I begin to shiver a little, frozen and scared as the minutes pass. I dart my eyes around - the place is empty except for material and metal and the hum of the lights - no one is near, I hear no voices and in the end, my legs decide for me; I bolt in the direction of where Mommy and Daddy went. It’ll be okay. I just have to find them… They’re here, they’re here… My cheeks sting as I rush on my feet, tripping once, twice… I’m crying and Dad would be so unhappy with me if he saw. Running past the clothes for Mommy, now I begin to hyperventilate as well, seeing only a big lady with blonde hair as I wind through the aisles trying to find where they were. They said they were here? I didn’t understand. I ignore the big lady as she asks what is wrong, and begin to cry audibly now, running as fast as I can, calling for Mom, Dad… I love them. I run past the people leaving the shop, shouting for them, scared and blind with fear and my tears. I loved them… ____________________ A pressure at my side caused me to jump in my skin and out of my waking nightmare, a hand, I recognised, pressing to my arm, wrenching me from the my memory - a space in time that I never wanted to see, know or feel again. I swallowed brisk air, the experience of re-living the horror of my past had made me blind to all but what I saw within my mind, suffocated and withdrawn into myself for however long it was that I had stood here, gone under… Wavering on my feet, I fought against the disorientation and darkness I not only felt, but saw in my tunneled vision. The cold choked me and I observed, feeling above myself, as my body began to struggle to ground itself and properly awake from my mind’s stupor. How long it was that I was enslaved to this oblivion, I could not decipher. To the edges of my soul, it felt as if I had aged in an instant and suffered by the locked memory for a lifetime, in one contemporaneous moment. I was sucked back to reality by a hand - small, I noted, now - clutching steadily more fiercely at my arm. In the dark of the alley, the only light that allowed me to see was that which seeped and reached from its origin on the main street, so it took a time for me to adjust and focus my gaze downwards to the figure at my right side. I remained half-dazed and unnerved by my regression, but it did not require numerous thought processes to identify that the child had not only approached me up close, but - for some strange reason - touched me. My place just inside the mouth of the alley, still and tortured, may have - I wasn’t certain - intrigued, coaxed or comforted the child to come up to me. Nevertheless, he or she was gripping my arm more and more and the surprising force of it was returning me to complete coherency. My eyes found purchase in the low light and I saw her to be a girl, small and meek in her stature, worryingly so. The anxiety plaguing me increased as I saw how neglected she looked in health, the pallor of her skin frighteningly pale, contrasting strongly to her dark hair - black, brown or otherwise, I could not tell in the night. Leaning down to her carefully I did not waste time looking over the state of her dirty clothes hardly enough to keep her warm in the city cold, placing my free hand gently upon her own, which clung to my other arm. It was my last wish to startle the lone girl and I took care with my movements, controlling how slowly and gently I returned her approach. My lips were dry and I moistening them slightly with my tongue, debating whether to speak. I watched her cautiously; like she was a frightening animal - looked it, sadly - frail and prepared to bolt at the slightest incorrect or ill-timed advance. Her hand, frozen and spare, stayed, swallowed by the size of my own, while I observed her in silence. She looked no older than four years of age, only tall enough that her eyes - hidden by choppy bangs, long and clumped - were level with my hips. Huddled in broken and battered trainers, no socks, her shorts-exposed legs smeared with dirt, littered with bruises and a cut on her knee, I had a terrible and saddening feeling that this child - this small, unfortunate girl - was as abandoned as I, one nightmare ago. She was the girl in the store, left by her parents, the two people who she had loved and believed loved her. How wrong innocents were. Leaning over the girl, unmoving, I felt my heart constrain and break slowly, painfully… She wrought memories from me that I struggled with nearly every day and even being near her was killing me, bit by bit. But never did I want or wish for anyone, any child to experience what I had all those years ago; feel what I felt, live what I lived. Not sure whether she would reply, I spoke gently and quietly to her anyhow, stroking my thumb over her small hand, which was relaxing gradually under mine. Marina You shouldn’t be out here this late at night. As I estimated, she did not speak, seeming to simply stare below her. Where? I could not know. However, I made note now that mere minutes ago I was in the same position as her, and the reflection of myself in this girl was wreaking havoc upon my composure. Marina Are you hurt? A glimmer of hope strokes my pained heart as I watch her shake her head, “no.” Gazing at her for a minute, still wary, my thoughts quickly conclude to what I must inevitably do, for my sanity as much as her safety, and I wonder if Shilo will ever forgive me. Taking the hand on my arm in mine, I hold it gently and crouch to her a little more so as to encourage no fear. I let my voice speak now and my actions have consequence later. Marina What is your name? I wait patiently, listening to her soft, steady breaths, audible above all the sounds of the city in the night. ? G--Gwyn. Gwynplaine. Her voice was impossibly quiet, but I heard; watched her pale, pinked lips form the word slowly but surely with cracked lips. When was the last time she had water or a meal? My eyes threatened to water, but I did not wish to lose myself to sorrow when I was to do all I could to help, protect and care for this girl. For now… that was all I could do. No chance that I would leave her here, abandoning her for a second time. Humanity disgusted me sometimes, not to mention Fate was a bitch and Reality, it’s whore. The earth, a battleground for the injustice and insanities that thrived each and every day, with children like Gwynplaine - and I - victims of our own innocence in the midsts of it all. Marina That is a beautiful name. It was a gift to see her lips curve into the smallest smile and whether she saw or not, I returned it. Squeezing her hand gently in mine, hoping to provide advance reassurance over the next words I began to formulate on my tongue, to say. They would either ruin or make this night for both of us. Marina Are-- My lapse shook me at heart and I quickly swallowed my fear for little Gwynplaine’s sake, for I needed to be strong, asking her: Marina Where are your parents? I did not think it even possible, but she went even whiter and I instinctively prepared myself should she faint beside me. After a moment of sickening silence, the air feeling to press down all around me, she spoke and surprisingly surely; but it was worse than tears or fainting, to hear, if that was possible, and my heart choked in my chest. Gwynplaine Gone. Marina Where, dear? Gwynplaine Gone… gone home. I took a deep breath; it was difficult to keep my voice steady. Marina Is that what they said? Gwynplaine Mom… My jaw jerked shut after a second, realising what she had uttered, spoken so quietly. Against my wishes, my eyes glazed over with tears, but I continued, my voice steady, betraying my emotional state. What was I going to do? Marina Where’s home? She just shook her head and I caressed the inside of her wrist with my thumb, hoping I did not upset her more with my next words, yet for however much I tried to comfort her - and I should have expected that our exchange wouldn’t be all well - she seemed to shrink in on herself while exuding sorrow; more and more. Marina It is very late, what are you doing here? Gwynplaine Hiding. Marina From who? Gwynplaine Mom. My insides froze and I think my mind short-circuited. Marina Why were you hiding? Her free left hand raised to rub one eye, tiredly. The sight clutched at my heart and I exercised patience and hope for a response as she lowered her arm to her chest, holding it close. Gwynplaine Th’was a mean man. I didn’t know how much more I could listen to without losing all composure. Gwynplaine Mommy dis’ppeared. Marina Couldn’t you find her? The little, pale girl shook her head again “no” and I swallowed my misery. For tonight, I would not let her go; out of hand or out of sight. After then, I didn’t know what was to be for her or for I. Something notably haunting had shifted, this night, in my soul - echoing my past and changing my future. Something strange… Resolutely squeezing her hand gently within mine, I lift it between us, my form crouched next to hers and I spoke with conviction. Marina Would you like to come with me, Gwynplaine? Are you hungry? The piercing blue eyes - ‘cerulean,’ I heard in my mind - which finally met mine through overgrown bangs, saddened me further and my heart broke again. Those eyes were lost, circled with red, like no sleep had graced this child. I watched her nod an affirmative to my question, her large and tired eyes upon my face, before bowing my own head once in reply and standing up slowly from my low crouch. My knees ached from the prolonged position but I did not give notice to the discomfort, concentrating upon the meek girl who watched me, curious. Why she was even trusting my company in the first place was a surprise. But then… the horror was that this girl probably would gravitate to any kindness or reasonable human contact in the wake of her experience of abandonment, which was not by any means a comforting thought. I wondered what would have become of her should have someone else approached her and were any less kind to her than I sought to be… and by her words did it seem she had already been preyed. A wave of nausea washed over me at the thought. I shook my head a little, as if it took this action to eradicate the frightening images flashing through my mind of a vulnerable child being harassed, taken and... the cold of the alleyway ate at my exposed skin. I would protect her, damn the consequences. Surveying the young, unfortunate figure before me once more - her eyes watching me cautiously, openly, innocently - I smiled gently. Marina I would love for you to come with me. She moved towards me and clung herself to my waist… and I instinctively pressed her closer, my heart warming, however sadly. With no indication that she was going to move, fixed at my side like that of her gripping hand on my arm minutes previous, I continued to speak softly to her. Marina You cannot stay here, it’s not safe. The city sounds of Toronto were my only response and she remained, clinging to my side. It was as if desperation was seeping from her, through my clothing and into my blood stream; I wanted to weep. For her… for me, or at least for what she represented for me and what I saw in her - myself, I suppose. I wanted Shilo. Marina Come with me, little one… The endearment rolled off my tongue. Marina … Let’s get you something to eat. Her head tilted back from its place resting against my hip to look up at me and she smiled. For her sake, I returned it, but the sight of her relaxed, trusting features… innocent eyes, open and ingenuous, just continued to tear at my insides. I wondered if my composure would last until Gwynplaine was cleaned, fed and resting at the hotel, because for her sake, I needed to keep myself under rein. Cautiously, I let the hand resting on her willowy back raise up and caress her thick dark hair, ever so gently for a few more minutes, allowing her to find peace or whatever it may be, in my presence and embrace. However, even though her weight was mostly resting against me, I felt her waver on her feet and I immediately spoke, worried, pressing her safely to me. Marina Can you walk? I frowned in the dark, watching her eyes flutter tiredly and I determinedly bent down, separating from her tight, fierce hold on me, to gather her up and arrange her to rest on my hip. She was so light… Marina Come on, little on. Breaching the mouth of the alleyway, Gwynplaine now secure in my arms, I walked, watchful of my surroundings. I saw, however, the girl lift a curled fist to her lidded eyes, rubbing them gently, one after the other and release a yawn that sung of her exhaustion; my heart pulled to my right, in the direction of the adorable and lamentable sight. I stepped carefully but swiftly, not wishing to jostle the slackening girl in my arms while not desiring to waste time. It was getting late for any child, so it was hardly difficult to understand that it would be beyond late for a deserted young one who - if I was correct - had not slept, eaten, bathed or drank for days and had but bins, rubbish, the cold and the unforgiving city to comfort her. The cruelty of our world and the people who ravaged it never failed to sicken and disturb me. I held her tight to me, head tucked on my shoulder, her small and worryingly frail arm hugging me. My emotions were a storm, the desperation of the embrace, a thorn in my heart, but I walked on until I reached the hotel Shilo and I were currently staying at, which had not been far from the alley in which I found Gwyn. The thought of Shilo in conjunction with what I was doing struck fear, cold and blind through me. He was going to… I didn’t know what he was going to do. A lone tear fell, staining my face and my first thought was that I hoped the near sleeping child in my arms had not noticed it. If I had at all thought about what my actions tonight would consequent with my mate, I do not know what I would have done instead. If anything, I wouldn’t have been so resolute in my decision to protect this child, clinging to me like I was life’s breath and blood. Whether subconsciously or consciously, I knew of this and… I don’t know, my memory regression may have killed my reason or my sanity, ruined my ability to judge soundly, but I knew if I had even considered what implications tonight may have had for all whom it may affect, ultimately - including my love - I would have compromised a young life. And… I do not know if I could live with that, knowing I had abandoned a child as I had once been left, myself. As I walked through the hotel lobby… all eyes trailing the young women with the feeble child in her arms… made my way into the lift, alone, pressed the floor number and waited there, my inner turmoil stormed. Though, as I watched the numbers of the lift raise gradually to the twentieth floor, despite the tempest of emotions within me, my mind became strangely blank and I simply listened to the slow, steady but ragged breathing of the sleeping girl in my arms. ____________________ Evening, invalids and infants of Infection. A word, if you please. No? Nothing? Well. Just as I expected, I suppose. Thank you for your tireless efforts in the wake of our match, in which, may I say, is rather ingeniously concocted and worth every bit of your time away from screwing around and doing fuck know’s what else. A joy to hear silence on your end, although get ready to work your vocals, Infection, because Karnivale is prepared to make you scream your last. And remain in the gutter with your minds on that, Infectious bastards, for all I care. Piss and stay there, Kissinger. Face down, it’s more bearable, and drown your team, because you sure as hell are not going to be doing anything different, visually, when we face you, come Two for One. Actually, you know what, why did you accept our challenge? Why in the first place did you think after--how many times have we beaten you, now? At what point did it cross any of your minds, if you in fact have them in truth, that this time things are going to be any different? But, of course! You don’t think. That is definitive. So, next time, Infection? Don’t bother to waste our time. Don’t bother to accept our challenge when you have proven on more than one occasion that you are not worth, to any length, to meet us in the ring. If anything, it is with conviction in my belief that tonight will not only be the end to this tirade of bullshit and nonsense from each of you, pawning over titles that you have never deserved to battle for, but this will be an end to whatever is left of Infection. Whatever left remains of your tantrums, child play and lack of sense and all the other bullshit, because this… this… is your falling. And hardly from grace, each of you. Don’t fret yourself over it, Kissinger, the Cerulean Tear will ensure your falling to the depths of the dare devils’ hell is as ugly as you deserve. My statement on behalf of Karnivale, heralds… A word, if you please: Welcome to your end. ____________________________________ |
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| Stacy Kissinger | Feb 27 2010, 06:40 PM Post #4 |
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Craig's Texas Rose
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[align=center]THE GRAND FINALE (in a few retrospects)[/align] Date: Saturday, February 27, 2010 Time: 2:00 P.M. Evah since I joined Infection, I knew it’d be a Rocky Road. I was proven right ‘bout this this past July at Rise To Greatness when Mistah Drachewych lost the right to be the majority ownah of SCW. Evah since then I’ve been busy assistin’ Mistah Drachewych with gettin’ his way back to his position, but it still hasn’t happened yet. None of his plans or his promises have turned thangs around in SCW. We’re still stuck with Sasha runnin’ thangs with CHBK as the commissionah. Not to mention that we’re stuck with havin’ to see the filth that has been wastin’ away in IWC. Fer example, formah Infection membahs Jason Wheelah and Christian Saviah. What’s far worse than that though is that all ya’lls out there will have to bear witness to seein’ Masquerade and Shilo one more time. I am SOOOOO sorry everyone ‘bout that. But anyways, perhaps afta it’s all said and done Mistah Drachewych will make true on everythin’ that he’s told to me, Greg, Matt and Drew. Maybe he will get his power back, but as of this moment, I sincerely doubt it. Hell, I’ve made more waves than Mistah Drachewych has as of late. Everybody remembahs me keyin’ his own daughtah right in the cheek on New Year’s Eve while hardly anyone remembahs much ‘bout why Dr. Hatten was brought here anymore. In fact, why WAS he brought here to the SCW? As part of Mistah Drachewych’s huge plot to get SCW back undah his control again? ‘Cause that sure hasn’t worked. Sigh… Goddamnit I wish Jay were here right in front of my eyes right now. He’s really the only one that knows how to wrench me away from the troubles of the SCW. Howevah since he’s not, I may as well let my message be known clear to Karnivale and all those othas that seemin’ly dislike me. And what’s really good is that I’ve put myself into the perfect surroudins to dictate this message to the Three Stooges, a.k.a. Mask, Marina Bent-over and Shallow Vagina…erm Shilo Valiant. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn’t have gone there. That’s almost as low as what Shilo says ‘bout Infection all the live long day. But no mattah, he and the othas are ‘bout to get a rude awakenin’ from the Solid Gold Sensation…and no, it won’t be ‘cause I’m gonna infect ‘em with a disease, even though I’m 100 percent healthy. As fer where I am, well…lights please!!! The lights that Stacy have asked for come on, two by two by two until the whole room is lit up. We see now that Stacy stands directly in the middle of the room, curiously enough in a female trapeze uniform that shows off quite a bit of her skin. Hanging from the ceiling are two trapeze bars, separated by a bit of distance. From the far left corner of the room we are sure that we can hear something roaring from underneath a covered by cloth area. And in another part of the room, a decent sized hoop with a plush mat on the other side of it. The camera zooms in on the very lovely and tall Stacy Kissinger. She puts on what is probably a fake smile before she begins to explain why she is here, amongst plenty of other things. Things that she is probably tired of dealing with... Stacy: Come one, come all to THE circus of a lifetime!!!! Ya’ll will see hoops of fire, great aerialism and an animal that’ll ama- Stacy suddenly stops and addresses the camera. Stacy: Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout Team Karnivale there. Anyways, to all of SCW, I’m pretty sure ya’ll are just wonderin’ where I am and why I have yet to send my normal lettah to the SCW offices so it can be sent out to those that desperately need to read it. Well wondah no more, ‘cause it ain’t comin’. Instead I’m wastin’ my precious time here since none of Karnivale can get the message. That message bein’ that I have no need to insult them or to attack how they get their messages across. The point is is that they’ve all come across actin’ like mere infants while I’ve acted like an adult. This is an adult world, not some playground at some random Elementary School. Anyways, before I cut off on a tangent and actually pay attention to everythin’ that Shilo’s been boastin’ to me ‘bout few the past several weeks, I’m gonna explain why this carnival equipment is here along with yers truly today. Stacy climbs a stepstool and hoists her own self up to the first trapeze bar, first grabbing it with her hands and then yanking her entire body upward so she can stand on the bar with her bare feet. She steadies herself rather easily before her angelic Southern voice floats through the air. Stacy: Now I do know enough ‘bout the circus from my childhood and all, and I know that usually the trapeze artists needs a partnah to catch him or her. Howevah in this case, I don’t need any help. I’ll let ya’ll observe that in a moment as I get from this bar ovah to the otha one. And if ya notice, I need no paddin’ on the ground beneath me eitha. I’m a well-trained aerialist, while the three of yas at Karnivale are nothin’ more but well-trained talkin’ bullshittahs. That’s somethin’ that’ll sadly prob’ly nevah change ‘bout all three of yas. At least I adapt to change. Even if I don’t win a simple wrasslin’ match every time out doesn’t mean that I don’t mean anythin’. Hell, I mean more than the three of yas combined! Stacy suddenly crouches down and wraps her feet around the trapeze bar. She gets the bar rocking back and forth before finally her momentum takes her up and over and into the air, heading for the second trapeze bar. She catches it with her hands and pulls herself around and up, now standing on the second bar. Stacy: Just like I told yas. Now I’m sure ya’ll will come on the television set and poke fun of me, sayin’ that I should be in the carnival. Just like I’m sure that ya’ll will come on deliverin’ more lame cracks ‘bout diseases just ‘cause I’m a part of the Infection, somethin’ that I’m gonna give up bein’ that Mistah Drachewych has yet to follow through on all his promises. Hell, he hasn’t even helped me with MY personal problem! On that mattah boys and girl, I’ll help myself get down from here… The leggy Texan does a backflip off of the trapeze bar and floats through the air, coming back to Earth. She even sticks a landing that any gymnastics judge would be proud of, including the Russian judge. Stacy mockingly curtsies in the direction of the camera but doesn’t face it for very long. Instead she turns attention to the hoop. She walks towards it and once there feels it with her fingers before speaking. Even though her sexy back is turned to the camera, she can still be heard speaking. Stacy: Now this hoop is somethin’ that we won’t see undah the big top when SCW and IWC get together. Now I wish I was able to light this up and jump through a fiery hoop, but I’ll have to settle since seein’ fire would only scare poor Marina Trent. Stacy sighs, rears back and then runs a bit before jumping through the hoop. She lands in a split position with her arms up, very proud of herself before she gets up and dusts herself off. Stacy: Ya, it kinda lost its pizzazz bein’ that I had to do it without the flames. Ya know, much like the three of yas have obviously lost touch with the fact that yer not in the circus here. Yer in professional wrasslin’ and yer hear to wrassle against two human beins that aren’t afraid to get into some man-made structure. Ya think that we’re afraid, but I’m sure not. Drew sure isn’t. As far as Matt Bishop goes, he’s only actin’ fearful just to make ya’ll think that ya have the uppah hand. And it’s worked like a charm! She shakes her head, just wishing that she would be doing anything else right now besides actually acknowledging Karnivale. But she knows it’s what must be done before she finishes preparing for the 2 for 1 Special this Sunday. She glares at the hoop for a few more moments before walking back to the growling noise. Not hesitating one bit, she whips the covering off of what is revealed to be a cage, one that is similarly shaped to the Big Top that she’ll be competing in soon enough, for the first time and the last… Inside the cage a very hungry looking circus tiger. Stacy looks at him, doing her best to calm him down with her beautiful deep brown eyes and charming looks. The tiger upon seeing her takes a few moments to settle down, but finally he does so. Stacy curtsies to the caged animal before pursing her lips and speaking towards him. Stacy: It’s good to see that yer tame, unlike many of the pathetic wild animals in SCW. The tiger grunts and then just simply walks around the cage before simply laying down in the cage and beginning to take what appears to be a nap. Stacy: Now I know all three of yas of Karnivale will all say that yer not like the tigah here who has chosen to take a little cat nap. Ya’ll will say that yer wild, full of charisma, and everythin’ else that we’ve all heard before. Masquerade, since ya’ve been the most vocal ‘bout all this I figured I’d tell ya that “clown charisma” ain’t everythin’. It’s nothin’ actually. Showin’ that ya have jokes doesn’t make ya a winnah. Ya won last time around last month against me and Drew ‘cause ya got lucky that ya had Drew in the ring and not me. If I had been there against ya at the end, it woulda been a much different story. But that’s fine bein’ that we’re here now, at the end of thangs. And now when the two of yas, you and Shilo that is, lose those tag team titles, ya can’t ask fer a rematch. It’s not us bein’ scared of the self-proclaimed “best tag team in SCW and IWC”. It’s called us no longah wantin’ to be bored with the three of yas. I mean look Masquerade, I could rip into you, Shilo and Marina and retaliate to every comment that ya’ve said towards me, but I’m not gonna do that ‘cause the three of yas simply aren’t worth it. Instead I’m gonna tell the truth, the WHOLE truth and nothin’ BUT the truth. Here goes… The three of yas are obviously frightened that ya’ll will lose the SCW tag team titles, which is why ya’ve all been whinin’ ‘bout our side of the proposition. But the time for talkin’ and whinin’ are ovah. It’s time to fight undah the big top and trust me Masquerade when I say that I’m not gonna be a scared lil’ kitten in there. I’m gonna be like the roarin’ tigah. And that’s just me….just think of Gregory Cherry gets his mitts on ya Masquerade fer cheatin’ to win the Adrenaline Championship… Stacy comes a bit closer to the camera again. After giving the room another look-around she walks over to the control panel on the left side wall and dims the lights so all the circus materials can no longer be seen. In fact the only image that can be seen is the body and face of Stacy Kissinger. Stacy: Now to Shilo and Marina since they both seem to LOVE gettin’ all up in my face, I’ll be glad to be rid of the two of yas. I’m enterin’ this contraption of yers only ‘cause I know that there’s a silvah linin’ at the end of all this. Ya’ll both will see that afta the 2 for 1 Supashow that there will be several thangs that I won’t have to deal with anymore. More than ya both realize too. There will so many changes that all of yer heads’ll spin. So keep talkin’ both of yas, I know that yer gonna before the “big match”. I know that ya’ve both been hidin’ undah the Big Top so far, but I anticipate ya to both come out and say what ya’ve both already said. Meanwhile though I’ll be gettin’ ready fer Sunday night, when I’ll be able to rinse my hands of such lowlifes, namely the two of yas and let’s just say that I’ll throw Masquerade in there just fer the fun of it. But enough of this. I’d ratha give all ya’lls the American Kiss than talk ‘bout it. I know the three of yas will feel differently, but no one cares ‘bout yer feelins…and no one will care about Karnivale! End of story. Stacy steps off to the side still wearing the sexy trapeze artist’s outfit. She slips a pair of heels on to her feet before leaving the room the back way, out on to the streets of New York. The door to the place she had been in shuts behind her… Date: Saturday, February 27, 2010 Time: 8:35 P.M. Stacy has long since changed from her carnival escapade and is back in an all-black business suit, her reading glasses on her face as she’s going through some files that are associated with her second job…and no, it’s not moonlighting as a slutty interviewer for IWC either. It’s business that only she knows how to tend to. Mr. Drachewych is now sitting on a couch that’s inside the Hammerstein Ballroom, Stacy standing up in front of him. Mr. Drachewych: Well? Are you going to keep me waiting all night Stacy? You know all full and well that I’m a very busy man. Stacy: Sure, whateva. What are ya gonna go do? Think of anotha plan that ya won’t be able to carry out? That was rough right there, but Stacy seemingly doesn’t give a hoot. She just looks down at Mr. Drachewych with a menacing look on her face. Mr. Drachewych stands and offers his rebuttal. Mr. Drachewych: I thought we had closed the book on this Stacy. I’m going to take care of business and I’m going to make sure that there are better days for the Infection and SCW as a whole. My daughter won’t be at the reigns for that much longer. Especially after this Supershow will be such a flop that it won’t even be funny. Stacy: Is this what it’s all ‘bout? Ya just want yer daughtah to fall flat on her face? Some plan that is to get yerself back in control of SCW. I don’t know what Greg and Matt see in ya, but both Drew and I have seen thangs that we haven’t liked outta ya. Mr. Drachewych: Yet the two of you are still here. Stace, please don’t begin another one of your tantrums. It’ll give my company a black eye, much like what Sasha’s already doing by inviting IWC into our midst. Stacy: Ya’ve done a great job of that already! Stacy realizes what she just said, but she doesn’t move to take it back. No apology comes. Instead, just more words to the former owner of the SCW. Stacy: Just like ya’ve done a great job with helpin’ me findin’ Jenna! Ya know, the otha night in my hotel room I decided to turn the TV on and in a very strange circumstance, I KNOW WHERE SHE IS NOW…NO THANKS TO YOU! I KNEW I nevah should have asked ya to be my lawyah. At least that’s a mistake I won’t have to live with. Mr. Drachewych: Are you basically telling me that you no longer want to be in Infection? She doesn’t waste any time in giving her response, shockingly. Stacy: You’ll get my ans-ah soon...and on MY terms! Just like with Karnivale earlier on in the day, Stacy walks off, her heels clacking against the hallway floor, not wanting to continue talking. But it’s hard to blame her for that. She’s a woman of action, always has been, always will be…no matter what happens at the SCW/IWC 2 for 1 Special or into the future… |
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| Hobo | Feb 27 2010, 06:47 PM Post #5 |
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*In the office of Matt Bishop, we find Bishop seated at his desk watching something on his computer. The volume is loud enough for us to here that whatever he's watching sounds like a bad Disney parody. Not too far away (with his mp3 player on and the earbuds in and releasing the beats of "Coming Undone" by Korn to drown out the horrible noise coming from Bishop's computer) is Drew Weilacher, who has a punching bag set up in a corner of the office and is busting it up with stiff punches. His target? A picture taped to the bag that appears to be a group photo of all four members of Karnivale. Drew throws a few more punches at the picture on the bag before turning and cracking his neck as the song on his mp3 player comes to an end. Luckily, whatever Bishop was watching seems to have come to an end as well, so Drew is free to remove the earbuds and not be annoyed. Bishop turns to look at Drew as he takes out the earbuds* "I just don't get it..." "Get what?" "Masquerade submitted a promo to SCW's site a while back that I just got around to watching. It ended with a video clip he found that sounds like a horrific Little Mermaid ripoff. Supposedly the clip was supposed to show what he plans to do to Infection." "Wasn't including that god-awful clip enough torture? Why do you think I grabbed my mp3 player?" "Well, this clip just had an undead sorceror burning down a village while singing about how he wanted to slaughter the world. I don't get it... does Masquerade plan to slaughter the world in order to try and beat Infection? 'Cause that seems pretty... I don't know... extreme and unlike him, maybe?" "You're talking about a deranged clown who likely found that clip while he was high off whatever shit his partner deals and thought it would work to close out his video. Face it Matt, nothing those idiots do ever makes any sense. That's why I've stopped trying to figure them out a while ago." *Bishop sighs* "These guys just live to give us headaches, don't they?" "I'm surprised the rest of the roster hasn't realized how annoying these guys are and tried to gang up on them to get rid of them." "Nah, they'd probably just get so high they wouldn't even feel the pain, then they'd show up for work the next week." *Drew pockets his mp3 player and starts throwing punches at the bag again* "You seem surprisingly calm considering everything that's happened. Well... calmer than usual." "You mean the fact that you'll be trapped in that cage with the rest of us and the only reason Shilo and his bitch got away with a win this past Breakdown was because Christian Savior stuck his nose where it didn't belong?" "Why couldn't we convince Savior to take my place inside that cage? I mean, he used to be Infection and he does have a battle with Shilo coming up over the US title." *Drew lands a particularly stiff punch that all but destroys the picture of Karnivale before turning to face his manager again* "Are you really that afraid of going through with this? Because I'm the one doing all the rational thinking for this situation, and normally you're the one that does the thinking while I just run over everyone in my path like a freight train." "To be honest... yes, I'm a bit afraid. You know as well as I do that I'm not a trained wrestler. Being your partner when we tried to beat the hell out of Dave Hohler and his 'bestest buddy' was an exception since I had no say in the matter then because of that ungrateful little bitch Sasha, plus I was willing to do it because it was one of my contracts on the line, and losing Hohler would've done a number on my financial status at the time. But this... a match involving a cage, of all things, and facing three people who are actually trained to do this kind of stuff..." "Alright, I think I get the point Bishop." *Drew just rolls his eyes* "Regarding Savior, there's two reasons he can't replace you. First of all, he hates Infection now for whatever reason. And second, he's already got his own shit to deal with regarding IWC for this show. Hell, the only reasom we're having this tag title match on a show where every other match is SCW vs. IWC in some way is because Shilo and Masquerade were too afraid of pulling double duty at Retribution because they'd be too concerned about their singles gold and get destroyed by us, which would likely cause them to lose their other belts as well." *Bishop just has a stunned expression on his face* "Come on, let's just address those freaks. I want to vent so I can be done with them, and I think it might do you some good." "Sounds good to me, Drew." *Bishop starts setting the options on his computer's webcam while Drew takes his place behind Bishop's chair, cracking his neck one more time* ***** *What you're watching right now is being shot by a webcam. The scene is the office of Matt Bishop, who is seated in his office chair staring straight into the webcam, a small smirk on his face. Standing directly behind him is Drew Weilacher, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face* Bishop: You idiots really want to know how we justify our request? You know, the one where there's no rematch after this? I thought I made it perfectly clear on Breakdown. We're sick of having to deal with you, and... to put it in terms you'll hopefully understand, we're probably losing our comedic value to you guys. What's the matter? You guys never played a game where the stakes were winner take all before? The bets don't have to be fair so long as there's a middle ground to justify the stipulations, and I just got through laying those out for you guys again. If you had a problem with the risks, you shouldn't have agreed then. Besides, what do you care? Both of you have singles gold to look after now too, so I really don't see an issue with Infection taking the tag titles away from you guys and you never getting another shot at them again. Drew: You guys are two of the most sinisterly sadistic psychos who ever wore makeup, huh? Then I guess that makes me the most sinisterly sadistic psychos who never wore makeup then. You guys made a grave mistake in electing to lock me up in a cage with no escape, because that's the last thing you want to do when dealing with me. You guys have willingly locked yourselves in with a man who doesn't give a shit about your well-beings. And considering how much Shilo cares for his little whore, I'd think you guys would have thought this through a little more. Have you ever considered the highly likely scenario of what would happen should I get my hands on Marina while she has nowhere to run? She was free to dance around on Breakdown, considering it was your typical tag match, but in a few days' time there will bo no escape. You guys really are crazy if you're willing to watch her career come to an end just because you were desperate enough to try and put an end to all the interference. If you really wanted to keep her safe, you should've left her out of the match." Bishop: Same with me. Drew: When Stacy and I take those titles away from you, feel free to cry. After all, a clown deserves to cry every once on a while. It's a good change of pace, especially since seeing them smile all the time just makes me want to kick their teeth down their throats. Luckily, you guys can't avoid that fate this time. You care so much about hiding behind the paint to be funny? Just wait until I leave the impression of the sole of my boot in your painted faces. I'm sure the fans will enjoy seeing your faces rearranged, since it'll make you guys seem even funnier. That's what you're going for, isn't it? Bishop: You guys have been a thorn in our sides for way too long, and it comes to an end at this SCW/IWC supershow whether you like it or not. We're going to show you guys that creating this match was the biggest mistake you'll have ever made. Caging the Infection won't swtop it, it'll only strengthen it. And you guys will see your mistake firsthand when you get broken in half and your belts come to the two people who deserved them all along. Drew: I'm not even giving you the option this time... you guys won't stop us. Not this time... *Fade* |
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| Shilo Valiant | Feb 27 2010, 06:58 PM Post #6 |
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The Icon of Entertainment
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NECROPHOBIA! Record: 11-1-1 Next Match: Vs. Infection for the Tag Team Titles w/ Masquerade and Marina Trent – Under the Big Top Match “I Feel A Song Coming On!” The Hammerstein Ballroom. --Shilo-- What the- A hand covers my mouth before I can finish that statement. Looking to my left, Marina’s stern face meets mine. --Marina-- Not in front of her. Shrugging her head, she gestured towards the small child that stood in between us, holding Marina’s left and my right with either hand. --Shilo-- Well, I’m sorry, Marina, but this is supposedly the biggest night of SCW and IWC’s history and they pick a da- --Marina-- Hmmm! --Shilo-- A 2,000 seater theatre over a 100 000 plus arena. --Marina-- Does it matter? --Shilo-- This isn’t Broadway, hun. I just don’t see the logic. My right arm was pulled slightly as Gwynplaine suddenly swung forward, swinging for a moment, using our arms as leverage. As my head whipped down in surprise, I noticed the barest smile on her face. It quickly disappeared as she looked up and saw me looking at her. It was strange, and not Masquerade strange, but definitely in that ballpark. Last night, I come home late, near morning from dealing the new Necro, and what did I find? Marina, awake, sitting in a chair with a small child in her arms. At first, I thought she had just wanted a pet…or a corpse to spruce up the living room. But…and this was the shocker…the kid was still alive. So, after a long discussion over an early-bird breakfast, Marina and I…or rather Marina…had decided to keep the kid. From a perspective, I could understand and sympathize with both of them. Hell, I could even find it humorous that my mate had forgone the life of constant sex that came with a newly alone couple and gone straight into the hell of child-raising. Problem was, she had forgone the life of constant sex that came with a newly alone couple and gone straight into the hell of child-raising! But… and this was the Masquerade strange I alluded to. I had immediately grown attached to the squirt. Not in the way I had when I had first met Marina, but an affectionately, little sister deal. Except I was probably suppose to be her father… Gods I felt old! And after all my hard work at using protection! --Masquerade-- Good morning, sunshine! I looked up at the smiling face of my tag-team partner as he bounded down the hall towards us. --Shilo-- How did I know you were going to be here before us? --Masquerade-- Probably because I don’t fall asleep at three am in the morning watching cartoons. My head jerked towards Marina in shock. --Shilo-- You told him about my cartoons?! --Marina-- It’s not a bad thing, Shilo. --Masquerade--- Hey, some of us watch late night pornography, others prefer the cartoons. Whatever tugs your peni- SLAP! My hand rushed up to smack the brash Mask in the face. His head jerked a little, but it was more of shock. Clutching his jaw, he looked at me, somewhat perplexed. --Masquerade-- What the hell- SMACK! --Masquerade-- Jesus- SLAP! That one was from Marina as her soft fingers met the jaw of Masquerade. --Masquerade-- Why is everyone in Karnivale suddenly hitting me?! With a sudden surprise, Masquerade was spun around and suddenly slapped by the person behind him. His manager Claire Voyant. --Masquerade-- You too?! Why?! --Claire-- Everyone else was doing it. The gypsy of fortune smiled at her man. Masquerade could not stay mad, though he could stay confused, as a sudden cry of delight was heard and suddenly, Gwynplaine charged forward, kicking Masquerade lightly, but repeatedly in the shin. Feeling the first kick, Mask looked down in surprise, and became even more surprise at what he saw. --Masquerade-- Who’s the twerp? --Shilo-- Umm…that’s why I was hitting you. --Marina-- Me too. --Claire-- Not me. --Masquerade-- What so I can’t swear anymore?! Oh this is- Dropping my bag, I suddenly was blur of instinct. I knew my verbally loose friend would not be pleased with this news, so I had prepared accordingly. With a quick jerk, I pulled out the stadium horn blower I had kept in my large coat pocket, holding it up into the air. --Masquerade-- *Horn*… What was that? *Horn* Oh so you’re gonna blow the horn every *Horn*ing time I say a *Horn* curse word? Oh this is *Horn*. You know you’re lucky you’re a *Horn* great tag team partner and can *Horn* a *Horn* with *Horn* in the *Horn* otherwise I’d take those titles of yours and shove them right up your *Horn* in *Horn* and *Horn* in the *Horn* with *Horn* just so I can *Horn* your *Horn* for the *Horn* with a side order of *Horn* and *Horn* right up your *Horn* so then you have to *Horn* sideways! *Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn**Horn* Meanwhile, Gywnplaine had not lost her fun as she continued the assault. --Masquerade-- Hey! You keep that up, it’s going to start to uncomfortably itch! With Marina being the smartest, and thus first to assess the situation, she quickly lowered her bag to the ground before scooping the small child into her arms. It was only when Masquerade saw Gwynplaine nestled comfortably and relaxed in her arms that he finally put two and two together. --Masquerade-- FIVE! … … Masquerade saw Gwynplaine nestled comfortably and relaxed in Marina’s arms and finally put the pieces together. --Masquerade-- Oh my god… you guys had a kid! Before I could even open my mouth, Masquerade was reaching into his large jacket to pull out a box. Opening it, he pulled out several cigarettes, popping one into my mouth and placing two in his mouth. Immediately, my tongue was on fire with the taste of black licorice…Why did this not surprise me? --Masquerade-- Why didn’t you call me last night when she was born?! --Marina-- Umm…Stephan? --Masquerade-- I mean…I love babies! And she’s so cute! Hearing the word, “babies”, Gwynplain suddenly struggled in Marina’s arms to look straight the Masked Marvel of SCW. --Gwynplaine-- I’m five. --Masquerade-- Yeah. Inches tall. Spitting the cigarette out of my mouth, I shook my head at what Mask was asking. --Masquerade-- I mean…how did you do it? Did the stork bring it to you last night? Did you offer him a drink? Were you a good host? --Shilo-- Masquerade? One more word out of you and the match with Infection will have to be a handicap one. --Masquerade-- I just want to know. I’m so happy for you! Turning to Claire, my tag partner was aflutter of excitement. --Masquerade-- You think the stork will visit us next? --Claire-- Umm…no. --Shilo-- Masquerade. This is our… Looking to Marina, then to Gwynplaine, then back to Marina, I watched her smile and slowly nod her head at me, answering my silent question. --Shilo-- This is our daughter. Gwyn- --Masquerade-- I know she’s your daughter, Shy. What I want to know is what the stork looked- --Shilo (to Claire)-- Can I hit him again? --Claire-- No, it may make things worse. --Masquerade-- So…Gwen. Gwenie. Did you come to see your parents- --Marina-- Gwynplaine. --Masquerade-- Huh? --Marina-- Her name is Gwynplaine. Looking back up at me, Masquerade stood to his full height, nearly as tall as I was. --Masquerade-- You named her after a Victor Hugo character? --Shilo-- I didn’t name her. That is actually her name. --Masquerade-- Wow…I’d insult the parents, but they’re right in front of me. Turning to the less stupid member of the group, Claire met my gaze with a look of understanding. --Claire-- Found her? --Shilo-- Last night. Marina did. Marina looked up from her fondling and laughing with Gwynplaine to nod her head in agreement. Turning to the child, I watched as Marina suddenly lowered her head to nuzzle the girl’s nose. Once, twice, four times she nuzzled before gently kissing her nose. It had become her calling card, like a lullaby for her child. Upon meeting me, Gwynplaine had been in hysterics, terrified of my Necro-outfit that I used at night as well as in the ring. In fact, she had been so hysterical that Marina had taken her into the next room and sung her to sleep, gently creating the nuzzle as a charm for her. It had worked and had still worked every time the kid was upset… If nothing else, Marina understood this child, more than I could. --Marina-- I couldn’t leave her alone in the streets. It wasn’t safe. Ignoring Masquerade’s blur of questions regarding a damn bird, I was surprised when he suddenly stopped at Marina’s words. --Masquerade-- So…you’re not the kid’s real parents? --Shilo-- No. --Masquerade-- You didn’t see the stork? --Shilo-- Okay, Mask, there was NO stork. And seriously, Strange, I think after we drop off our bags in our change room we need to have a little talk. There’s internet here, yes? --Claire-- Yes. --Shilo-- Okay…there’s an email I have, Mask. One that helped me through some hard times about life and the birds and the bees. We can read it together. A small smile formed on Masquerade’s excited face. --Masquerade-- I’d like that. --Shilo-- Okay. Let’s go. Walking past Masquerade and Claire, we were halfway down the hall when- --Masquerade-- WAIT! Reaching into the bag Claire had been holding, my demented friend quickly pulled out another small box. This one had a handle on it and was painted my colors of black, red, green and gold. --Masquerade-- I was going to give this to Shilo when he arrived. For our anniversary. --Shilo-- Anniversary? --Masquerade-- You forgot! How could you?! It’s our third month together as a tag-team! --Shilo-- Umm….okay. --Masquerade-- And we have three of SCW’s titles! --Shilo-- Right. --Masquerade-- With a match involving three members of Karnivale! --Shilo-- Go on. --Masquerade-- In our official third Tag match with Infection since winning the tag titles! --Shilo-- Yes. --Masquerade-- And the pay-per-view is called 2-for-1! --Shilo-- Mm-hmmm. --Masquerade-- Two plus one equals three! --Shilo-- Last I checked. --Masquerade-- And we’ve defended the tag titles three times already! --Shilo-- Correct. --Masquerade-- So 3 is our number! Three is our number tonight! So I am celebrating by giving you a gift! In fact, it can be for the kid! --Shilo-- Have I told you lately that I find you entirely insane, random and quite moronic. --Masquerade-- Well, just as long as you find me… *********************************************************************************** Hours Later *********** ************************************************************************ Our door was closed to dull the sounds of the rushing mob of wrestlers, techies and staff as 2-For-1 was making its final preparations. Me? I was still in disbelief I was going to be wrestling in a fucking theatre. Still, as I adjusted my coat and attire, looking up to the pale white face that greeted me, it seemed a little less out of the ordinary and more fitting. I mean, what about Karnivale wasn’t theatrical? What wasn’t Karnivale if not 45% theatrics, 45% talent, 10% style and luck, and 100% crazy? And when you incorporated the “Under the Big Top” match, it was…in a word…perfect. The Necro-Merchant grinned back at me as I starred at the mirror. With our seventh, and soon to be final, confrontation with Infection a short time away, I could not help but feel the pressure of defending the titles ease just a little. This entire match, from its conception to its revelation to accepting the terms Infection threw at us had been set to get us to the goal. Breaking another team. Greaternity had been the first. Infection was next. With the two most hated tag teams out of the title hunt, the title would go into real competition and real challenges. It would also keep Infection out from monopolizing the titles, as they had spend months trying to do. In a word…the idea was perfect. Standing up to my full height after kneeling over the sink to apply my makeup, I quickly put the materials away before opening the door and walking through. Marina was already finished and had shouted something about going outside to get a drink from the backstage concession stand. I quietly marveled at the idea of how ordinary it had become for a superstar to walk down the halls of an SCW arena, a placed that was full with athletes, yet seeing a blue woman and painted man and just treat it like an ordinary day. When had the absurd appearances become the accepted? I didn’t know, but I laughed about it all the same. A gasp from behind me quickly silence me, though, as I turned my head to the door of the change room. Standing there was the small child wearing the clothes my credit card had bought for her, a small pink sweater that would keep her warm, and black track pants that seemed to flow over her small, socked feet. She looked at me, her eyes wide, trying to recognize the face. Quickly, I tried to talk. --Shilo-- Gwynplaine! It’s me! Her response was not as I hoped, as she suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs and turned around to bolt out of the room… --Shilo-- Gwynplaine! Straight into the arms of a waiting Cerulean Tear, who had just turned around and into the room to hear her scream. Clutching the child close to her, she slowly tried to whisper in her ear words I could not hear. Unfortunately, the costume of the Cerulean Tear disguised as much as Marina Trent as the Necro-Merchant hid Shilo Valiant. With a scream, Gwynplaine struggled in Marina’s arms, trying to be free of the monsters she may have seen in her dreams and the monster she had met last night. It hurt to stand there and do nothing, but it was the only thing I could do. Clutching the small girl to her form, I watched my mate gently rub her back, Gwynplaine’s cries tiring into sobs. --Marina-- Listen to my voice, Gwynplaine. Please listen to my voice. And then she hummed that tune she had sung and hummed so many times in the last twenty-four hours to the girl. Slowly, almost unsure, Gwynplaine’s cries lowered to silence before Marina gently broke their embrace. With a smile, she gently nuzzled the girl’s noise before kissing it, leaving no mark on the skin of Gwynplaine. If I had a meltable heart, it would have melted at the sight of this. If nothing else, it was cute. Reaching her hands out, the child, who was smarter than I had realized, ran them along Marina’s cheeks, chin and eyebrows before throwing her arms around as much of Marina’s neck as she could. Smart or not, she was still only a child, and what better safety was there then to find yourself in the arms of someone that had saved you from the streets? I kinda knew that sensation whenever I looked at Marina, and I felt the safety and trust between us. At the same time, I longed for what Marina, and one day I, were giving to Gwynplaine. Safety. Perhaps a form of love. I watched my mate gently rock her before motioning with her head and neck for me to join them. Slowly, I moved until I was standing in front of them, only a few inches away. With Marina holding her, Gwynplaine did not scream, but she was still worried. Slowly, Marina reached up to cup the side of Gwynplaine’s face with her blue hand. --Marina-- It’s Shilo, hun. The girl looked at me as the Cerulean Tear held her. Slowly lowering myself to Gwynplaine’s eyelevel, I took a breath or two to calm my nerves. Last thing I wanted was for her to scream again. --Shilo-- Umm…I don’t really have a special nuzzle or secret handshake yet… With a sudden swiftness I didn’t know the twerp possessed, she grabbed my wing and yanked it with all her strength. Since I had not attached the pins yet, I watched the wig fly off my hair and into the small hands of my daughter. With a squeal of delight, Gwynplaine tossed the wig in her hands like a ball. Even Marina had to laugh at that. The great white monster had been de-haired by a child. I think it was safe to say, as Gwynplaine then suddenly reached up to hug my face, that she wasn’t afraid of me anymore. I moved back to allow her to return to Marina’s embrace, watch unshed tears glisten in my love’s now golden amber eyes. Her face was clear blue, with the sparkles perfectly placed. With a smile, I turned to grab the spray I needed for her, just as Masquerade and Claire entered the room. Quickly, I looked to see Mask staring at me, his face concealed by one of his many masks. --Shilo-- Mask off, bro. --Masquerade-- Why? --Shilo-- Don’t want to scare, Gwynplaine. Looking over his shoulder, my partner silently laughed as Claire joined Marina in showering Marina and my new addition with affection before quickly pulling of his mask and following me into the change room as I grabbed a few more spray bottles. --Masquerade-- So what, Shy? You go and get yourself a kid. No more fun for Karnivale? --Shilo-- Oh come on, Mask. You know me. Necro-Merchant. Master of Scare-emonies. Ringleader. We’ll find a way to have boys’ night out. --Masquerade-- Good, cause I don’t want to go back to Mickey. --Shilo-- Well, don’t worry, I’m not about to- who the hell is Mickey? --Masquerade-- Imaginary friend I made up about six years ago. Came back from the dead after I got rid of him. He tried to kill me. --Shilo-- An imaginary friend try to kill you? --Masquerade-- Right. With an imaginary gun. I was fortunate enough to dodge the imaginary bullets. He wasn’t a good shooter. --Shilo-- Right. Could you go play with Gwynplaine and send Marina over. --Masquerade-- Can do. Slipping out of the room like a cat, I heard Masquerade send my requests to Marina. A few seconds later, Marina entered the room, gently closing it behind her and locking it. Seeing her sashay those hips as she closed the distance between us almost made me want to take her then and there for a quickie. Shaking my hand of the thought, I slowly smiled at her as she rested her hands against my chest to grant me the briefest of kisses. --Marina-- I’m so proud of you. --Shilo-- Proud of me? Why? Gesturing with my hand, I requested Marina lift her right arm straight at me. As she did, I slowly shook the can of special spray paint and began highlighting her arm in a spiral pattern of teal and red. --Marina-- For Gwynplaine. --Shilo-- It wasn’t hard to get her to pull my hair. I just really had to stand there. --Gwynplaine-- You’re trying, Shilo. Her right arm finished, I nodded my head, allowing her to lower her arm and raise the other. With a small check of her own makeup she had done, I began decorating her other arm similar to her right, but different. After the “tattoo over the heart” marking, Marina had asked me to have some of my designs placed on her every match. --Marina-- Claire will look after her during our match. --Shilo-- Good, make sure the door is locked. --Marina-- Of course. Her arm complete, I placed the can of paint down before slowly walking around her. This had become my pre-match tradition with my mate. Observe her until inspiration struck. Never once had she complained. I actually was starting to believe she liked my work. --Shilo-- We do this right, we will have the worse faction out of our hair. --Marina-- I know. --Shilo-- You’ve studied the move set? --Marina-- Yes. --Shilo-- Cause you know Stacy is going to be targeting the two of us to get to me as United Sta- --Marina-- I know. Even when she was sure of herself, she was hot as hell. Why did we have to have people in the next room?! It wouldn’t matter except I was sure my time with Marina was limited while Gwynplaine was here. Time…Hot…That’s it! Regardless how many times I got a brainstorm, I was always shocked with the instant feel of pride that came with it. Reaching over to the cans of yellow and white paint, I quickly covered my hands with the yellow before approaching Marina. --Shilo-- Drew and Bishop… Mask and I will take care of them. --Marina-- Strange knows you want your hands on Bishop? --Shilo-- He was the one who told me he understood that and that he understood if he stood in my way, I would tear his hair out of his head. Reaching out with my fingers, I suddenly grasped Marina’s collarbone, pushing my hands onto her bare, blue skin. I felt her gasp a little, but immediately relax. --Shilo-- Masquerade and I will try and keep them off you so you can take Kissenger. --Marina-- Yeah…okay… Slowly, I trailed my hands around her neck and straight down her back claw like, pushing the paint under her top and down to the small of her back, ending just below her sarong line. --Marina-- If they try anything? --Shilo-- Marina. We are going to be locked in that cage with them. The only way they can cheat is if they break that locked door. Trust me, one of us will see them coming long before that. Removing my hands to cover them in white paint, I suddenly reached out to grip both Marina’s arms forcefully. She flinched under the pressure but did not push away. --Shilo-- You need to focus on what you want. This is all about revenge. We’ve proven how many times that they can’t beat us. We’ve proven countless times that we are the better team. Now? We are just going to go out there and have fun destroying another thorn in the sides of the tag team division. Quickly releasing her hands, I slipped in closer to her to grab her firm hips, my hands wrapped around them. I heard her throat hitch and forced myself to concentrate as she slowly wrapped her arms around my neck, playfully adding a leg to wrap around mine. --Marina-- I’m focused. Are you? --Shilo-- Always. I gulped a little as I knew Marina knew that I was lying. With a satisfied smirk, she gently brushed her blue/pink lips against my black/pink ones. It was a fleeting one, merely a tease, but that was how Marina could play if she wanted to. It made her a far more cunning enemy than I. And Infection was thinking Marina was going to be the weak link in this trio chain? Quickly releasing Marina, I watched her turn to the mirror, admiring my work. --Shilo-- Throws of Passion. --Marina-- I like it. She turned, smiling at me. --Shilo-- Go check on Gwynplaine. We have to go soon. The Cerulean Tear nodded before leaving the room. Slowly, I approached the sink and ran the water. With a smirk, I watched the wet paint run off me. If it had dried, like Marina’s would, it would take some doing to get off. --Shilo-- As the color oozes off and into oblivion, so does this rivalry with Infection. Could I expect nothing less? No doubt Infection had repeated themselves constantly with the same monotonous, robotic voice that they had drilled us with for months. Sincerely, guys. Do you ever get tired of being wrong? Beating us at Gang Rulz, beating us at Body, Heart and Soul, beating us at Breakdown, Cherry beating Masquerade? Wrong wrong wrong wrong! Especially you, Kissenger. Of all the idiots in your clan, you’ve spoken the most. It’s getting you to shut up that is your real trick, cause I haven’t seen it. Out of all infection, you’ve come on with your notes and your five seconds of promo time to say how much you will beat us. Now, you will apparently “wash your hands of us”. How seriously can I take that, Stacy? Cause every other time you’ve promised to make that name for yourself, that silvuh lining to lead you to gold, you’ve fucked it up. Again and again and again. It’s laughable at best. Now…you’re in our match, with no where to run and no where to hide. You can’t hide behind your boys anymore and you can’t blindside us with sneaky attacks. Now, you’re gonna have to rely on your “wrasslin” ability. Speaking from a guy that’s beaten you four times…that talent isn’t really much. But I’ll let you gussie it up all you want. Make your threats and false promises. They are about as empty as your title resume. What are we looking at? One or two titles in how long? Sad, Kissenger. Sad because you rely on your whining and bitching to Drachewych, the old man, not the hot teen, to get what you want. Daddy apparently never loved you enough. Well, you got what you wanted. Another shot, of many, against a champion set. Now all you got to do is change the outcome and actually win. But trust me, I’m not holding my breath for that to happen. One second, one moment is all it will take for you, under the Big Top and under Karnivale, to open your eyes and welcome your permanent career home… --Shilo-- Down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams… END |
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Just giving fair warning. Enjoy!



7:54 PM Jul 10