Post by Xero on Aug 24, 2021 21:46:28 GMT
"I know what you're probably wondering. How did I get here? Why am I here? What is it that led me down the path that I am now travelling down? Just who am I? Just what makes me, well, me As if I were telling you a David Copperfield sort of tale. Some day it will all be revealed. That I can promise you right now. But be patient, for right now, allow me to tell you a little story. Give you a little taste of just why I have travelled down this road and what has led me to sit here before you today."
A man can be seen, sitting on a decaying oak bench, staring out to the distance and admiring the luscious green grass and the trees as their branches sway in the gentle breeze. He appears to be in either his late teens or early twenties and is wearing a plain white cotton t-shirt, jeans and black Nike sneakers that have an indigo swoosh. A gentle smile across his face, he continues admiring the sights and sounds, as if they bring back some sort of happy memory of when times were more peaceful and calm. Feeling the wind brush against his body, the man slightly tilts his head to the right, surveying the environment surrounding him before returning his focus straight ahead and to the story he is about to tell.
"This wasn't always my dream, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that this is what I've wanted to do all my life, or that I was born into this, because I wasn't. Far from it in fact, yet it all changed one cold, snowy winter night when I was eleven years old."
A single tear begins to flow down his right cheek as the man raises his hand and softly wipes it as a small chill begins to run down his spine, as if to force him into repressing this memory. Clearing his throat, he presses on however, knowing that if nothing else, telling it will give him a sense of closure that has eluded him ever since the event occurred.
"I was in my bedroom, tucked in and preparing to go to sleep for the night when I heard a loud pop from outside my window. As if somebody had let off a firework, but it was February. New Years had been and gone, and this neighborhood wasn't the sort where children let off fireworks without rhyme or reason for doing so. It was for the most part, one of the safest neighborhoods in the country. Then I heard a second pop, followed by a blood-curdling scream as well as the pitter-patter of people running away. Each step sounded like a heartbeat as I leapt out of bed, looked outside and saw a singular figure on the grass about ten feet from my window, illuminated by the light of the moon. Lying supine and with blood pooling around her head."
Tears flowing down his face, the man takes a deep breath in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. He knows that recalling it, even simply to himself, is the only way he can at least try to rationalize it. Try and grasp what it is that he truly seeks. Closure. Or at least the semblance of it, anyway.
"I still remember the sheer feeling of dread that washed over me when I saw her, and the denial that I held. It couldn't be. It wasn't her. This was all just a nightmare, but it wasn't. It was indeed her and deep down, I knew it too. It was as if I had seen a ghost. It was my mom. The one person who had cared for me ever since I was born and the person who I owe everything to, helpless and unable to move as blood kept pooling around her head. Flowing from a bullet hole in the dead center of her temple."
Continuing to look out at the park, he feels memories rushing back to him. This was the park that his mom would bring him to every Saturday. Where he is presently sitting, is where she would sit as she watched him frolic in the grass. Reveling in the fresh air that would brush against his skin. Much as it is now, except she is not here to enjoy it with him.
"That sort of thing never leaves your mind. Witnessing your own mother, dead and laying right in your line of sight, helpless to do anything but watch as she bleeds out before your very eyes does things to a man that you couldn't even begin to imagine. I wanted to know who would do this. I wanted to know who was responsible for my mom no longer being here. No longer being able to be a guiding light upon the world and one way or another, I was going to find out, and I promised myself that night that when I did find out, they would never be able to hurt another soul again. That they would be left to rot in a shallow grave, discarded just as they had discarded my mother."
His face contorting into a sadistic smile, it is clear that he still holds that memory. That promise he made on the night, as he continues to stare out toward the grass in front of him. Focusing in on a single child who cannot be much older than five, running through with a spring in their step as an older female, presumably the child's mother, following them in an attempt to keep up. Another reminder of the memories he once had with his own mom.
"And I was going to make sure that they knew exactly who would be the last sight they saw as the life drained away from their body and they took their last breath in the land of the living. Yet to this day, they have eluded me. They still wander this earth, capable of inflicting the same agony upon another soul. Tear apart another family as they did mine."
Pushing himself up, he leisurely makes his way onto the grass that he had been staring at previously. Standing in the very spot that his eyes had been locked onto as his face shows a softer, more innocent expression, in stark contrast to the sinister, callous expression it had been while he was talking about his desire for vengeance. It's like he is a child again, just enjoying life for what it is, yet he knows that it is crueler than he had imagined it would be when he was a child. Yet the innocent expression is short-lived, as he remembers just what he had been talking about. The reality that he is no longer that child. That he no longer feels the enjoyment of passion he once did when roaming through this very park and that the night he lost his mother is the origin of the depraved, cold side of him rising from deep within.
"That will all change once I am able to find them. Once I am able to stare deep into their eyes and ask them if it was worth it. If what I shall put them through, was worth the life of my mother, and I promise that I will show them no mercy until they give me what it is I seek. Until they give me the closure I desire, even if it means I must commit upon them, that they committed upon me. For it is what they deserve."
Staring around, he glances through the trees in front of them, their rustling sound flowing through the air, as a glaze begins to form within his eyes and he appears trance-like in his gaze.
"Yet nobody seems to know. Or at least, they do not wish to tell me, for they know that blood will be on their hands as much as it would be on mine if they were to reveal their information. Which is why I am taking it into my own hands. It is why I am the one who shall be venturing the world, not stopping until I get what I seek. Until I find them and show them just what happens when you have somebody who merely cares about retribution. About ensuring that he receives his closure, regardless of what they have kept hidden, or what they have stowed away, claiming that it was for my own protection. Yet you need not worry about that, at least for now."
The sinister expression returning, the man simply smiles.
"Who am I, you might ask? To tell you the truth, I don't even know the answer, for ever since that night - everything has become nothing more than a mirage. A never ending nightmare, from which I have not escaped, but what I can tell you, is that you can call me Xero. For that is who I have become, and soon enough, you will get a glimpse into what a man who cares not for what might become from his actions is willing to do, in order to ensure that people know just what lurks within him."
The man, now known simply by the name Xero, begins to walk through the park, in the direction of the trees. Each step measured in nature as his eyes continue to hold a blank, emotionless stare. Though after about three meters, he stops. Almost as if he remembered something. A question that reverberates within him, yet has been left unanswered.
"Why have I chosen to wrestle? Why have I ventured down this road, if it is not the one I desired? The path that I had chosen for myself prior to that night? The answer is, it is what my mother would have wanted. It is what she would wish for me. So, I do this in the hopes that it will enable me to at least hold a fragment of her within me. For the rest of you, that spells out your misery. Your agony as I ensure that you all understand that this is not just a tale. That this is not just about me trying to obtain closure, but that this is simply about ensuring that you understand that if you are not the one I seek. If you are not the one who holds the answers, then you must fall. You must be struck down and left to wallow within the bed, much as I was."
A soft, chilling laugh leaves the man's lips as he continues his walk, slowly disappearing out of sight as he enters the line of trees, his shoes squishing the grass and crunching the dried; fallen leaves each step, with only his words floating through the air.
"And I shall enjoy every moment of ensuring that the last vision you have before you sleep is of me. Staring deep into your eyes and asking 'was it worth it?'."
A cold laughter is the last thing heard, as he finally disappears over the horizon. As if he was a ghost, or a man who is simply focused on finding the answers. The closure that he truly seeks. Holding the hope that wrestling will somehow be able to provide them, or at least a means for him to unleash his rage and retribution upon the world.
A man can be seen, sitting on a decaying oak bench, staring out to the distance and admiring the luscious green grass and the trees as their branches sway in the gentle breeze. He appears to be in either his late teens or early twenties and is wearing a plain white cotton t-shirt, jeans and black Nike sneakers that have an indigo swoosh. A gentle smile across his face, he continues admiring the sights and sounds, as if they bring back some sort of happy memory of when times were more peaceful and calm. Feeling the wind brush against his body, the man slightly tilts his head to the right, surveying the environment surrounding him before returning his focus straight ahead and to the story he is about to tell.
"This wasn't always my dream, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that this is what I've wanted to do all my life, or that I was born into this, because I wasn't. Far from it in fact, yet it all changed one cold, snowy winter night when I was eleven years old."
A single tear begins to flow down his right cheek as the man raises his hand and softly wipes it as a small chill begins to run down his spine, as if to force him into repressing this memory. Clearing his throat, he presses on however, knowing that if nothing else, telling it will give him a sense of closure that has eluded him ever since the event occurred.
"I was in my bedroom, tucked in and preparing to go to sleep for the night when I heard a loud pop from outside my window. As if somebody had let off a firework, but it was February. New Years had been and gone, and this neighborhood wasn't the sort where children let off fireworks without rhyme or reason for doing so. It was for the most part, one of the safest neighborhoods in the country. Then I heard a second pop, followed by a blood-curdling scream as well as the pitter-patter of people running away. Each step sounded like a heartbeat as I leapt out of bed, looked outside and saw a singular figure on the grass about ten feet from my window, illuminated by the light of the moon. Lying supine and with blood pooling around her head."
Tears flowing down his face, the man takes a deep breath in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. He knows that recalling it, even simply to himself, is the only way he can at least try to rationalize it. Try and grasp what it is that he truly seeks. Closure. Or at least the semblance of it, anyway.
"I still remember the sheer feeling of dread that washed over me when I saw her, and the denial that I held. It couldn't be. It wasn't her. This was all just a nightmare, but it wasn't. It was indeed her and deep down, I knew it too. It was as if I had seen a ghost. It was my mom. The one person who had cared for me ever since I was born and the person who I owe everything to, helpless and unable to move as blood kept pooling around her head. Flowing from a bullet hole in the dead center of her temple."
Continuing to look out at the park, he feels memories rushing back to him. This was the park that his mom would bring him to every Saturday. Where he is presently sitting, is where she would sit as she watched him frolic in the grass. Reveling in the fresh air that would brush against his skin. Much as it is now, except she is not here to enjoy it with him.
"That sort of thing never leaves your mind. Witnessing your own mother, dead and laying right in your line of sight, helpless to do anything but watch as she bleeds out before your very eyes does things to a man that you couldn't even begin to imagine. I wanted to know who would do this. I wanted to know who was responsible for my mom no longer being here. No longer being able to be a guiding light upon the world and one way or another, I was going to find out, and I promised myself that night that when I did find out, they would never be able to hurt another soul again. That they would be left to rot in a shallow grave, discarded just as they had discarded my mother."
His face contorting into a sadistic smile, it is clear that he still holds that memory. That promise he made on the night, as he continues to stare out toward the grass in front of him. Focusing in on a single child who cannot be much older than five, running through with a spring in their step as an older female, presumably the child's mother, following them in an attempt to keep up. Another reminder of the memories he once had with his own mom.
"And I was going to make sure that they knew exactly who would be the last sight they saw as the life drained away from their body and they took their last breath in the land of the living. Yet to this day, they have eluded me. They still wander this earth, capable of inflicting the same agony upon another soul. Tear apart another family as they did mine."
Pushing himself up, he leisurely makes his way onto the grass that he had been staring at previously. Standing in the very spot that his eyes had been locked onto as his face shows a softer, more innocent expression, in stark contrast to the sinister, callous expression it had been while he was talking about his desire for vengeance. It's like he is a child again, just enjoying life for what it is, yet he knows that it is crueler than he had imagined it would be when he was a child. Yet the innocent expression is short-lived, as he remembers just what he had been talking about. The reality that he is no longer that child. That he no longer feels the enjoyment of passion he once did when roaming through this very park and that the night he lost his mother is the origin of the depraved, cold side of him rising from deep within.
"That will all change once I am able to find them. Once I am able to stare deep into their eyes and ask them if it was worth it. If what I shall put them through, was worth the life of my mother, and I promise that I will show them no mercy until they give me what it is I seek. Until they give me the closure I desire, even if it means I must commit upon them, that they committed upon me. For it is what they deserve."
Staring around, he glances through the trees in front of them, their rustling sound flowing through the air, as a glaze begins to form within his eyes and he appears trance-like in his gaze.
"Yet nobody seems to know. Or at least, they do not wish to tell me, for they know that blood will be on their hands as much as it would be on mine if they were to reveal their information. Which is why I am taking it into my own hands. It is why I am the one who shall be venturing the world, not stopping until I get what I seek. Until I find them and show them just what happens when you have somebody who merely cares about retribution. About ensuring that he receives his closure, regardless of what they have kept hidden, or what they have stowed away, claiming that it was for my own protection. Yet you need not worry about that, at least for now."
The sinister expression returning, the man simply smiles.
"Who am I, you might ask? To tell you the truth, I don't even know the answer, for ever since that night - everything has become nothing more than a mirage. A never ending nightmare, from which I have not escaped, but what I can tell you, is that you can call me Xero. For that is who I have become, and soon enough, you will get a glimpse into what a man who cares not for what might become from his actions is willing to do, in order to ensure that people know just what lurks within him."
The man, now known simply by the name Xero, begins to walk through the park, in the direction of the trees. Each step measured in nature as his eyes continue to hold a blank, emotionless stare. Though after about three meters, he stops. Almost as if he remembered something. A question that reverberates within him, yet has been left unanswered.
"Why have I chosen to wrestle? Why have I ventured down this road, if it is not the one I desired? The path that I had chosen for myself prior to that night? The answer is, it is what my mother would have wanted. It is what she would wish for me. So, I do this in the hopes that it will enable me to at least hold a fragment of her within me. For the rest of you, that spells out your misery. Your agony as I ensure that you all understand that this is not just a tale. That this is not just about me trying to obtain closure, but that this is simply about ensuring that you understand that if you are not the one I seek. If you are not the one who holds the answers, then you must fall. You must be struck down and left to wallow within the bed, much as I was."
A soft, chilling laugh leaves the man's lips as he continues his walk, slowly disappearing out of sight as he enters the line of trees, his shoes squishing the grass and crunching the dried; fallen leaves each step, with only his words floating through the air.
"And I shall enjoy every moment of ensuring that the last vision you have before you sleep is of me. Staring deep into your eyes and asking 'was it worth it?'."
A cold laughter is the last thing heard, as he finally disappears over the horizon. As if he was a ghost, or a man who is simply focused on finding the answers. The closure that he truly seeks. Holding the hope that wrestling will somehow be able to provide them, or at least a means for him to unleash his rage and retribution upon the world.