This is a new fic that's probably gonna take awhile to complete. It
was 119 pages on my other computer, but my baby brother(I love him, but his
nickname is SD: Seek and Destroy!), in a complete freak accident, erased it
all, not to mention my other stories. I'm going to tone down the detail,
but hopefully you'll still enjoy it.
***: italics.
My computer won't do italics on any of my stories, so I resort to the asterisks. Thanks, and it's always helpful if you review.
Oh yeah, this story is based around King of the Ring 2001. I know, far back, but I started it back then. To keep my tragic computer history short, I worked on it for about two months, the computer broke until about January of this year, and it took me about two week to get back into the feel. So I've been working this for about a year. Well, until SD decided to erase it. Anyways, that's my mournful computer history.
The Only Way Out is In
CHAPTER ONE
I sighed while I packed my bag. It had been a brutal night. A Triple Threat for the WWF championship. How delightful. Of course, my friend Chris Benoit was riding on his way to an ambulance, Steve Williams as well, with their drastic injuries. I suppose I had been lucky; I escaped from the hellhole that was the ring with only a concussion for my troubles.
Troubles of course that didn't lead me to the belt.
My door suddenly opened and Mark Calloway poked his head into the room.
"You're nice," I snorted.
"I know," he said with no humor in his tone, his eyes serious. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. It looked like a brutal match."
"Nice observation, Dead Man."
"Thanks. You okay?"
"Concussion," I said, blowing air out through my mouth. "It's nothing, really. You can leave now."
"Sometimes you make me think you like being a jackass."
"One of my many specialties, along with being charming, charasmatic, on my way to becoming WWF champion, lead singer of my own-"
"Please, spare me," Mark snarled. "Tell me you're going back to the hotel."
That pissed me off. He was playing motherhen and I hardly even knew why. My head was pounding and I wanted a drink. But, knowing Mark, if he knew I was going to get a drink, he'd probably bring the whole government down on my head.
"I will," I said innocently, flashing a smile that I knew was overkill.
"You bastard. Have fun." With a last scrutinizing look, he left.
Goody goody.
Hefting my bag on my shoulder, my head pounding, I walked out the door and into the hallway.
The streets were deserted and the wind gusty. I was so tired I thought I was going to fall over, but somehow I kept myself stumbling along the deserted streets. I hadn't spent the money on a rental car, hadn't taken my own, and was relying on taxi services to carry me around. I decided to sprawl along and just find what I could, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.
I was so tired, I-
I was suddenly slammed into a wall. My heart jumped to my rib cage. I spun around, my legs weak.
"Watch it!" snapped a voice and I froze.
The world stopped around me.
I was trapped back where I had begun.
No, no, no! NO!
"You look fimilar," the voice said, suddenly curious.
I kept my face glued to the ground, praying violently. Please, no, not again!
"I don't know you," I shakily said. "I don't know you."
"If you're sure," his voice said reluctantly. "If you're dead sure."
"I am."
"See ya."
His pressure was lifted from my body. Choking, I breathed in deeply. Memories were spinning in my mind, memories whose colors were blurring together.
Lowering my head, sagging my shoulders, I continued on my walk.
The bar was dim and pratically empty, and I was drunk.
I was drunk as a dog.
I could keep my balance walking on the top rope better than I could now.
Slapping a bill down on the counter, I staggered away toward the door, my eyes spinning, the world still blurring in my eyes. I was going to pass out, I knew it, but if I did, Vince would probably kill me. I went up a staircase and fumbled with the knob.
"Wrong door, genius," somebody snickered behind me.
Wrong door? It was a door, a quaint door that was my ticket into fresh air.
Ignoring the bastard person behind me, I stepped out and was greeted by a foul smell.
The trash alleyway. Bastard person was right.
Swearing, I turned back to the door and tried the knob. It didn't open. It was locked and closed. Licking my lips, I turned around, to head-
Something crashed into my skull! A hard, round thing smashed into my head.
Yelping, I fell, my reflexes slowed by the alcohol tainting my blood.
"Grab him!"
My arms were jerked roughly behind my back. My head was hammerlocked between an arm.
I couldn't breathe. I started bucking my body.
"Hold him still!"
I froze. The voice. The voice again, the *voice!*
"So you remember," said he, coming closer. I lowered my eyes, tremors wracking my body. "I hoped you would. It makes such an easier victim."
I gave a muffled shout.
"Give it to me!" He yelled for something, and then a black cloth was shoved onto my mouth and nose. Unable to breathe, I was forced to inhale the concotion smothering the cloth. My head began to feel heavy, my eyes drowsy. "Sweet dreams," he sneered.
My eyelids shutting, I was carried away by nothing.
My eyes were incredibly heavy when I woke, and when I did, the only thing that greeted me was pain and darkness.
Groaning, my head pounding loudly, I raised my head, trying to knock away pain and dark shrouding me. What had happened? I searched my memory and found nothing of the like coming back to me. I blinked, trying to wash away the waves, but nothing came back.
I had to get to my feet, and become aware of my surroundings.
When I tried to get in my breath, I felt something clogging my nose and clinging to my mouth. Confused, I raised my hand and swiped. Something warm and sticky came off. Squinting, I looked, but nothing could be seen in this darkness. I lowered my hand, and something soft met my hand.
Halting, I looked down, and squinted hard.
The outline came to me slowly, and I pressed down to try and confirm my analysis. When I had it, I froze for a second, still atop of the thing under me. Panic hit me and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, it couldn't be, what had happened?
Unable to keep it in, I screamed.
I was stradling a human body.
Alright, I know, sounds like a lot of other fics. I had an idea that's going to come out in a while. I built the story on the base of that idea, as well as the idea of the prolouge. It'll be appearent later. Remember, if you're confused, the prolouge is only the prolouge. It's connected to the story, alright, but it's still only the prolouge. Confusing? I think so, but try to work it out(I'm not trying to be smart or anything!). Review please, I'd appreciate it.
***: italics.
My computer won't do italics on any of my stories, so I resort to the asterisks. Thanks, and it's always helpful if you review.
Oh yeah, this story is based around King of the Ring 2001. I know, far back, but I started it back then. To keep my tragic computer history short, I worked on it for about two months, the computer broke until about January of this year, and it took me about two week to get back into the feel. So I've been working this for about a year. Well, until SD decided to erase it. Anyways, that's my mournful computer history.
The Only Way Out is In
CHAPTER ONE
I sighed while I packed my bag. It had been a brutal night. A Triple Threat for the WWF championship. How delightful. Of course, my friend Chris Benoit was riding on his way to an ambulance, Steve Williams as well, with their drastic injuries. I suppose I had been lucky; I escaped from the hellhole that was the ring with only a concussion for my troubles.
Troubles of course that didn't lead me to the belt.
My door suddenly opened and Mark Calloway poked his head into the room.
"You're nice," I snorted.
"I know," he said with no humor in his tone, his eyes serious. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. It looked like a brutal match."
"Nice observation, Dead Man."
"Thanks. You okay?"
"Concussion," I said, blowing air out through my mouth. "It's nothing, really. You can leave now."
"Sometimes you make me think you like being a jackass."
"One of my many specialties, along with being charming, charasmatic, on my way to becoming WWF champion, lead singer of my own-"
"Please, spare me," Mark snarled. "Tell me you're going back to the hotel."
That pissed me off. He was playing motherhen and I hardly even knew why. My head was pounding and I wanted a drink. But, knowing Mark, if he knew I was going to get a drink, he'd probably bring the whole government down on my head.
"I will," I said innocently, flashing a smile that I knew was overkill.
"You bastard. Have fun." With a last scrutinizing look, he left.
Goody goody.
Hefting my bag on my shoulder, my head pounding, I walked out the door and into the hallway.
The streets were deserted and the wind gusty. I was so tired I thought I was going to fall over, but somehow I kept myself stumbling along the deserted streets. I hadn't spent the money on a rental car, hadn't taken my own, and was relying on taxi services to carry me around. I decided to sprawl along and just find what I could, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.
I was so tired, I-
I was suddenly slammed into a wall. My heart jumped to my rib cage. I spun around, my legs weak.
"Watch it!" snapped a voice and I froze.
The world stopped around me.
I was trapped back where I had begun.
No, no, no! NO!
"You look fimilar," the voice said, suddenly curious.
I kept my face glued to the ground, praying violently. Please, no, not again!
"I don't know you," I shakily said. "I don't know you."
"If you're sure," his voice said reluctantly. "If you're dead sure."
"I am."
"See ya."
His pressure was lifted from my body. Choking, I breathed in deeply. Memories were spinning in my mind, memories whose colors were blurring together.
Lowering my head, sagging my shoulders, I continued on my walk.
The bar was dim and pratically empty, and I was drunk.
I was drunk as a dog.
I could keep my balance walking on the top rope better than I could now.
Slapping a bill down on the counter, I staggered away toward the door, my eyes spinning, the world still blurring in my eyes. I was going to pass out, I knew it, but if I did, Vince would probably kill me. I went up a staircase and fumbled with the knob.
"Wrong door, genius," somebody snickered behind me.
Wrong door? It was a door, a quaint door that was my ticket into fresh air.
Ignoring the bastard person behind me, I stepped out and was greeted by a foul smell.
The trash alleyway. Bastard person was right.
Swearing, I turned back to the door and tried the knob. It didn't open. It was locked and closed. Licking my lips, I turned around, to head-
Something crashed into my skull! A hard, round thing smashed into my head.
Yelping, I fell, my reflexes slowed by the alcohol tainting my blood.
"Grab him!"
My arms were jerked roughly behind my back. My head was hammerlocked between an arm.
I couldn't breathe. I started bucking my body.
"Hold him still!"
I froze. The voice. The voice again, the *voice!*
"So you remember," said he, coming closer. I lowered my eyes, tremors wracking my body. "I hoped you would. It makes such an easier victim."
I gave a muffled shout.
"Give it to me!" He yelled for something, and then a black cloth was shoved onto my mouth and nose. Unable to breathe, I was forced to inhale the concotion smothering the cloth. My head began to feel heavy, my eyes drowsy. "Sweet dreams," he sneered.
My eyelids shutting, I was carried away by nothing.
My eyes were incredibly heavy when I woke, and when I did, the only thing that greeted me was pain and darkness.
Groaning, my head pounding loudly, I raised my head, trying to knock away pain and dark shrouding me. What had happened? I searched my memory and found nothing of the like coming back to me. I blinked, trying to wash away the waves, but nothing came back.
I had to get to my feet, and become aware of my surroundings.
When I tried to get in my breath, I felt something clogging my nose and clinging to my mouth. Confused, I raised my hand and swiped. Something warm and sticky came off. Squinting, I looked, but nothing could be seen in this darkness. I lowered my hand, and something soft met my hand.
Halting, I looked down, and squinted hard.
The outline came to me slowly, and I pressed down to try and confirm my analysis. When I had it, I froze for a second, still atop of the thing under me. Panic hit me and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, it couldn't be, what had happened?
Unable to keep it in, I screamed.
I was stradling a human body.
Alright, I know, sounds like a lot of other fics. I had an idea that's going to come out in a while. I built the story on the base of that idea, as well as the idea of the prolouge. It'll be appearent later. Remember, if you're confused, the prolouge is only the prolouge. It's connected to the story, alright, but it's still only the prolouge. Confusing? I think so, but try to work it out(I'm not trying to be smart or anything!). Review please, I'd appreciate it.