- The
Destroyer of Worlds -
0
We had never felt as liberated in
our life.
More pure.
More natural.
Finally the exterior, the layers of falsity, insincerity, the years of not knowing who we truly were.
No more Bobby Goodlife. No more Robert Goodlife, or Robert Lancaster.
They all came to an end. They are dead and buried in the annals of history.
Now there is only the essence.
Purity.
Perfection.
Now there is only ourselves - only Avarice.
The evolution, the metamorphoses was complete. Our Dark Lord was satisfied.
And from that one moment when "Dead Souls" commenced. When we made our entrance as Avarice.
That was moment 0.
And it is from that moment that we shall now strive onwards from into the future.
The body count began with Frederick Phoenix. One.
Cyrus.
Two.
And we shall go through as many bodies as is needed. Through as many wars required until we are rewarded with that which is destined.
We shall not be denied. We shall not be denied.
I: following Impact, in the private locker room of Avarice, Baltimore, MD
My Robert...my Avarice...had performed brilliantly. I had never seen him...shit this strapless bra hurts like hell...perform with more confidence or ease. And it was so good of that fucking idiot Cole Christenson to come down and help my man out so conveniently. I have to wonder if these peons think before acting...regardless I'm pleased their minds are sealed in their asses. Not that my man needs such assistance...although he lost to a woman...God I can't believe that still.
But today starts a new epoch in his life. And I'm so glad I can be here with him. So glad to see him cast off the shackles that were holding him down for too fucking long. Now he is the evolution of essence. The destroyer of worlds.
And a great lay.
That's enough...this bra has to come off.
I look at the full length mirror and admire the white dress and boots I had come out with. This goddess look suits me. What doesn't suit me though?
A shame that this shower is going to ruin this hair. Took almost an hour to do. That's okay though...it'll be another few weeks till I have to do it again. I fucking hate it though...all that shit they spray in my hair has to be poison.
Poison.
I ponder.
I slip off my dress and finally drop this restricting vice from around my chest. Off come the boots and I'm nude and ready for the shower.
Poison...
I slowly walk to the shower and find it blasting full strength already. I'm glad he's taking a long one, he deserves to relax.
I open the door and step in, sighing in delight as each burst of heat caresses my skin. I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his neck, pulling him tight.
He turns his head to look at me with a smirk as he continues to massage the soap around his face and neck.
"What do you think of the name 'Poison.'"
"I know you're poison already, so does every son of a bitch out there. It's a bit obvious, isn't it," comes his smart ass reply.
Bastard.
"Well I like it. 'Coming down to the ring, escorted by Poison...the Destroyer of Worlds, Avarice,'" I announce out loud, trying it out for sound.
He shakes his head negatively.
"Too obvious," he repeats. "What about 'Marissah, Warrior Princess.' The way you were dressed tonight looked straight out of Lucy Lawless' wardrobe."
I can only take so much. I step on his toes.
"OUCH, bloody wretched wench."
I giggle as I turn him and pin him against the corner of the shower.
He looks down at me with his blue eyes. I do admit those red contacts he wears to the ring suits him. I prefer his natural colour though.
"So is this your idea of how to reward me for a well fought match?"
"Well fought? I hope you thank those fucking idiots for their hatred, helping you like that by interfering."
"Whatever they have between them is their business, not mine. I just reap the rewards from their stupidity."
"You might not be so lucky next week."
He stares at me with a near frown, before his lips curl upwards with a knowing grin.
"Luck? 'The Destroyer of Worlds' has no need for luck. Whomever they throw in our path will fall beneath our feet. They will be no match for us."
Avarice takes my face in both his hands and examines my face, his eyes locked on mine finally.
"Surely you know this."
I lick my lips and nod.
He nods back.
He runs his hands through my hair, now soaked from the shower that beats down on us both unabated, the steam clouding both my vision and our doubts about the future.
"Come to us, our Poison."
He leans down and pulls me close as our lips lock, in a bond. Sealed with poison.
More pure.
More natural.
Finally the exterior, the layers of falsity, insincerity, the years of not knowing who we truly were.
No more Bobby Goodlife. No more Robert Goodlife, or Robert Lancaster.
They all came to an end. They are dead and buried in the annals of history.
Now there is only the essence.
Purity.
Perfection.
Now there is only ourselves - only Avarice.
The evolution, the metamorphoses was complete. Our Dark Lord was satisfied.
And from that one moment when "Dead Souls" commenced. When we made our entrance as Avarice.
That was moment 0.
And it is from that moment that we shall now strive onwards from into the future.
The body count began with Frederick Phoenix. One.
Cyrus.
Two.
And we shall go through as many bodies as is needed. Through as many wars required until we are rewarded with that which is destined.
We shall not be denied. We shall not be denied.
I: following Impact, in the private locker room of Avarice, Baltimore, MD
My Robert...my Avarice...had performed brilliantly. I had never seen him...shit this strapless bra hurts like hell...perform with more confidence or ease. And it was so good of that fucking idiot Cole Christenson to come down and help my man out so conveniently. I have to wonder if these peons think before acting...regardless I'm pleased their minds are sealed in their asses. Not that my man needs such assistance...although he lost to a woman...God I can't believe that still.
But today starts a new epoch in his life. And I'm so glad I can be here with him. So glad to see him cast off the shackles that were holding him down for too fucking long. Now he is the evolution of essence. The destroyer of worlds.
And a great lay.
That's enough...this bra has to come off.
I look at the full length mirror and admire the white dress and boots I had come out with. This goddess look suits me. What doesn't suit me though?
A shame that this shower is going to ruin this hair. Took almost an hour to do. That's okay though...it'll be another few weeks till I have to do it again. I fucking hate it though...all that shit they spray in my hair has to be poison.
Poison.
I ponder.
I slip off my dress and finally drop this restricting vice from around my chest. Off come the boots and I'm nude and ready for the shower.
Poison...
I slowly walk to the shower and find it blasting full strength already. I'm glad he's taking a long one, he deserves to relax.
I open the door and step in, sighing in delight as each burst of heat caresses my skin. I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his neck, pulling him tight.
He turns his head to look at me with a smirk as he continues to massage the soap around his face and neck.
"What do you think of the name 'Poison.'"
"I know you're poison already, so does every son of a bitch out there. It's a bit obvious, isn't it," comes his smart ass reply.
Bastard.
"Well I like it. 'Coming down to the ring, escorted by Poison...the Destroyer of Worlds, Avarice,'" I announce out loud, trying it out for sound.
He shakes his head negatively.
"Too obvious," he repeats. "What about 'Marissah, Warrior Princess.' The way you were dressed tonight looked straight out of Lucy Lawless' wardrobe."
I can only take so much. I step on his toes.
"OUCH, bloody wretched wench."
I giggle as I turn him and pin him against the corner of the shower.
He looks down at me with his blue eyes. I do admit those red contacts he wears to the ring suits him. I prefer his natural colour though.
"So is this your idea of how to reward me for a well fought match?"
"Well fought? I hope you thank those fucking idiots for their hatred, helping you like that by interfering."
"Whatever they have between them is their business, not mine. I just reap the rewards from their stupidity."
"You might not be so lucky next week."
He stares at me with a near frown, before his lips curl upwards with a knowing grin.
"Luck? 'The Destroyer of Worlds' has no need for luck. Whomever they throw in our path will fall beneath our feet. They will be no match for us."
Avarice takes my face in both his hands and examines my face, his eyes locked on mine finally.
"Surely you know this."
I lick my lips and nod.
He nods back.
He runs his hands through my hair, now soaked from the shower that beats down on us both unabated, the steam clouding both my vision and our doubts about the future.
"Come to us, our Poison."
He leans down and pulls me close as our lips lock, in a bond. Sealed with poison.