When
'tis Done
I: Immediately following the
Lancaster/Christenson match, OLW Outrage, Baltimore, MD
"If it
were done, when 'tis done, then
t'were well it were done quickly."
Macbeth.
Mark me, Thane of Glamis.
It's been done.
And I know somewhere my Dark Lord is laughing quite gleefully at the
bloody wreck I had left in the ring. That being of my former
partner, friend, Seamus Finnegan.
He would spend his night in hospital, perhaps the next few days.
And there was no greater feeling.
I had done the right thing. I had cut the noose that the
Triumvirate had strung around my neck. No more. No more Whiskey
Devils.
I was free. Freedom, glorious, terrible freedom.
Marissah and I passed through and behind the curtain. Countless
techies and various wrestlers were milling about.
I had a thousand daggers in mens' eyes cast my way as my fiancée
and I walked past them, ignoring their glares and assorted
shouts. I looked down at Marissah who was seemingly fixated on
me. Her eyes were glazed, and heavily dilated, and were locked on
mine. Her lips were full and red, her cheeks flushed a deep red,
her breathing accelerated.
We continued to walk towards the back when I heard a few words slip
from her lips.
"I want you."
I took a deep breath, as we approached the locker room.
I went to turn towards it, but Marissah tugged on my hand, resisting.
I looked back at her.
"What the hell's wrong, let's
get our things and leave."
She shook her head.
"I want you."
I obviously no longer had control of the situation.
She pulled me along the corridors until we hit our limousine. She
shooed the driver away and opened the door herself, almost pushing me
into the car. Marissah climbed in and slammed the door.
The limo took off quickly as Marissah climbed onto my lap and took her
top off, and unhooked her bra. She grinned at me salaciously as
she ran her hands through my hair, and began to nibble on my ear.
Desire surged through my veins.
"I'm so proud of you for what
you did to that son of a bitch...the man
was a druken low class piece of crap..."
Marissah thrust her hands on my skull and pushed it firmly to the back
of the seat.
There I sat, in my ring gear, drops of sweat still beading down my
forehead.
Blood still covering my hands, and chest, now dried.
She purred as my neck was still held taut. Marissah began to lick
my neck as she slid off my lap slowly and placed her hands on my chest.
She leaned forward and proceeded to lick blood from off me...
"Mmmmmmm oh shit....."
Marissah flipped her head back, and licked
her lips.
Twenty minutes later.
I could hardly walk.
I had left that arena dead.
Now I am alive.
Alive.
Freedom and life all in the span of an hour.
What horror is to come...
