Post by Limitless Wrestling on Feb 13, 2020 14:25:48 GMT -8
The SinArena.
If the ghosts of this place were talking outside, they were screaming inside. The silence was practically deafening as he made his way around, looking for that entrance into the backstage and the catacombs. He threw a glance over to the center of the arena, and for a moment he was transported.
It was 2017, the first reunion show that NGIW put together. Though he had only been in supporting roles, he had received an invite to compete. A mixed tag with-
He shook himself free of that daydream violently, a snarl on his face. He didn’t have time to dwell on the past. There was work to do.
The backstage area was vast. He tried his best to navigate, but the winding hallways seemed to vex him at every turn. It was if there was something preventing him from his goal, some force trying to preserve the sanctity of this place and trying to punish the intruder. Had this been three years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. Now, after everything seen and done? He could believe it. Wholeheartedly.
By chance he stumbled upon a crowbar, using it to force open doors and narrow the search. Time passed by as he made his way around, trying to ignore the whispers floating about. They were all in his head, a way to combat the silence. A small voice in his head told him to heed the whispers, to listen to what they had to say, but he pushed it out of his mind. They were simply whispers. Nothing more.
The cold metal lodged itself through the opening, bending only slightly before it triumphed over the wooden door. As it swung open, he was bombarded with sounds, dropping to his knees and putting his hands over his ears. This wasn’t a scream, it was a ROAR, years and decades of history screaming at him, punishing him for trespassing. He heard nothing but those sounds, bombarding him from every angle until he felt he could no longer take it. He seemed on the verge of abandoning his quest, of leaving and never returning-
“Don’t.”
He paused. The voices continued, blending into a white noise as he tried to focus. Standing on unsteady legs, he looked ahead for the source of that voice.
“You’re so close Michael. Don’t stop now.”
Only two people called him Michael. To everyone else, even his students, he was Hayden.
“Keep moving.”
The voice took form, taking shape in front of his eyes before giving him that smile. The very smile he had seen numerous times before, the one that always gave him reassurance.
“Go.”
As quickly as it formed, it dissipated, taking the rest of the voices with it as it faded into the ether. He reached out in desperation, hoping to keep it for a few seconds longer… but it was for naught. Their time together was all too brief. It always was.
Down he traveled, into the catacombs of the building. It was here that he knew he’d find his treasure, the symbol that he seeked. It was why he drove for hours, why he broke into the building and was faced with the memories it held. He took a risk just getting this far, but it was necessary.
He allowed his mind to travel one more time, that cold December night playing itself over and over again. The confrontation with Murtagh, the betrayal of Skye, the feeling of loneliness even as he was surrounded by people. He knew they cared, knew they wanted the best for him, but the best was no longer an option. He drank to numb that feeling, just as his father did twenty years ago. He drank to forget, to erase those memories completely. They couldn’t hurt if they were no longer there, they couldn’t haunt him late at night. There was peace… if only for a moment.
One moment…
He moved, mindful of his step as he finally reached his destination. It was said years ago that someone would find it, a poor soul who needed help. It was right there, untouched well before the closure of NGIW and the subsequent reunion shows, as if waiting for someone, for him, to come and claim it. To the untrained eye, it was something to take notice of briefly before forgetting it entirely. Regarded as a remnant of the past. To him, it was more.
It was the mask of Kursur.
If the ghosts of this place were talking outside, they were screaming inside. The silence was practically deafening as he made his way around, looking for that entrance into the backstage and the catacombs. He threw a glance over to the center of the arena, and for a moment he was transported.
It was 2017, the first reunion show that NGIW put together. Though he had only been in supporting roles, he had received an invite to compete. A mixed tag with-
He shook himself free of that daydream violently, a snarl on his face. He didn’t have time to dwell on the past. There was work to do.
The backstage area was vast. He tried his best to navigate, but the winding hallways seemed to vex him at every turn. It was if there was something preventing him from his goal, some force trying to preserve the sanctity of this place and trying to punish the intruder. Had this been three years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. Now, after everything seen and done? He could believe it. Wholeheartedly.
By chance he stumbled upon a crowbar, using it to force open doors and narrow the search. Time passed by as he made his way around, trying to ignore the whispers floating about. They were all in his head, a way to combat the silence. A small voice in his head told him to heed the whispers, to listen to what they had to say, but he pushed it out of his mind. They were simply whispers. Nothing more.
The cold metal lodged itself through the opening, bending only slightly before it triumphed over the wooden door. As it swung open, he was bombarded with sounds, dropping to his knees and putting his hands over his ears. This wasn’t a scream, it was a ROAR, years and decades of history screaming at him, punishing him for trespassing. He heard nothing but those sounds, bombarding him from every angle until he felt he could no longer take it. He seemed on the verge of abandoning his quest, of leaving and never returning-
“Don’t.”
He paused. The voices continued, blending into a white noise as he tried to focus. Standing on unsteady legs, he looked ahead for the source of that voice.
“You’re so close Michael. Don’t stop now.”
Only two people called him Michael. To everyone else, even his students, he was Hayden.
“Keep moving.”
The voice took form, taking shape in front of his eyes before giving him that smile. The very smile he had seen numerous times before, the one that always gave him reassurance.
“Go.”
As quickly as it formed, it dissipated, taking the rest of the voices with it as it faded into the ether. He reached out in desperation, hoping to keep it for a few seconds longer… but it was for naught. Their time together was all too brief. It always was.
Down he traveled, into the catacombs of the building. It was here that he knew he’d find his treasure, the symbol that he seeked. It was why he drove for hours, why he broke into the building and was faced with the memories it held. He took a risk just getting this far, but it was necessary.
He allowed his mind to travel one more time, that cold December night playing itself over and over again. The confrontation with Murtagh, the betrayal of Skye, the feeling of loneliness even as he was surrounded by people. He knew they cared, knew they wanted the best for him, but the best was no longer an option. He drank to numb that feeling, just as his father did twenty years ago. He drank to forget, to erase those memories completely. They couldn’t hurt if they were no longer there, they couldn’t haunt him late at night. There was peace… if only for a moment.
One moment…
He moved, mindful of his step as he finally reached his destination. It was said years ago that someone would find it, a poor soul who needed help. It was right there, untouched well before the closure of NGIW and the subsequent reunion shows, as if waiting for someone, for him, to come and claim it. To the untrained eye, it was something to take notice of briefly before forgetting it entirely. Regarded as a remnant of the past. To him, it was more.
It was the mask of Kursur.
