Disclaimer: I own nothing. Huge thanks for the reviews from so many amazing people
Fallen Angel Manda (I know that's not ur name anymore but I still call u it!) – thanks for the awesome review and words of encouragement, it means so much to get a review from u, it means the most actually to know that u approve. Love ya :- )
Sweet-Steffie – I am such a fan of ur work that receiving reviews from u leaves me in awe so big thanks
Disco Inferno1: Ur stories about Samia are twisted works of art, thanks for the review. It means a lot
Justagirl8225: thanks for the review! I love to create atmosphere and after watching some old Sting WCW promo pieces I was totally fired up and inspired so I'm glad I achieved it, thanks for reading & reviewing!!
I hope I do all of u proud as u all seem to dig Sting as much as I do so humble thanks. I didn't know if anyone would care about this story so to get this magnificent support is overwhelming and heartfeltly received. Hope u enjoy this chapter
WALKER OF THE NIGHT
The weather had died down slightly now. Sting had moved from the ornate throne and now sat in one of the vast gaping windows of the warehouse, looking out onto a dark forbidding world through eyes so black it appeared his pupils were all that existed in his entire painted face. Still he kept those patterns, black on white. Everyday he painted them, the sacred signs, scars of torment and inner justice. His vulture was circling overhead again, occasionally letting out a squawk as though to check it could still use its voice. Like its master, it was good at being silent and appearing when least expected.
He could feel them edging closer, those who would join him for this dark gathering. He didn't know which states they were dragging themselves from to answer the call but he knew they were not all close. Some of them were faint pulses he could just about detect but he knew they were there. The first part of his prophecy took on another meaning again
"When a man's heart is full of deceit, it burns up, dies and a dark shadow falls over his soul. From the ashes of a once great man has risen a curse, a wrong that must be righted"
When those words were first spoken, no one knew who they applied to. It could have been anyone. But he was called to the wrestling world, a place that shaped him and a place he had to protect. Where so many people's lives were lost. When he was reawakened and heard the prophecy a second time, they applied to one of the greatest, Hulk Hogan. A man once beloved by fans as an iconic role model before burying his legacy by becoming the leader of the black and white New World Order, systematically destroying the company who had brought him back, WCW. That was when Sting was reawakened to his calling. He had disappeared. A face in the crowd, or looming in the rafters. He broke through the ring canvas or plummeted down from the ceiling on a wire. All the time, his intense eyes bored into Hogan, letting him know that he was coming to wipe him from WCW so that people could live again without the poison of the NWO killing it once and for all. The NWO's ranks swelled with wrestlers eager to stay on top while those loyal to WCW struggled to stay afloat. Sting would appear, swinging a bat silently to even the odds and sometimes save the day.
He watched an empire fall to ruins and some of his friends succumb to the poisons. He saw them change without recognition into heartless cruel monsters. He had to learn to trust his enemies.
He won the World title belt from Hogan but JJ Dillon proclaimed it a no contest after Bret Hart declared Sting the winner and demanded the belt back until a rematch could determine the true champion. It was then that Sting broke his year and a half long silence.
"You've got no guts" he glared at JJ Dillon before addressing Hogan, pressing the business end of the bat against his rival's throat like a sword tip "and you? You're a dead man"
Sting learned to trust no one. The only person he could rely upon was himself. In WCW you couldn't trust anyone. Friends were friends for a month, a week sometimes before turning their back on you in pursuit of the gold. It was all about the gold. That was where Sting was different. He was all about justice. Seeing his former friends like Randy Savage, Lex Luger, Kevin Nash turn into such heartless remorseless monsters tore his blackened soul in two. There was no one he could turn to and it made him stronger. It made him unbeatable. It buoyed him up as he took on the entire Hollywood NWO faction and beat them. It made him immoveable and a strong threat to everyone around him. He would tag team with people but would always keep one eye on his corner, waiting for that dagger to sink into his back.
Lightning cracked outside, forking across the expanses of the grey skies. Then silence. Sting looked up, his eyes trained on the doors. He blinked and they opened without the aid of human hands. Against the ravaged background, a short distinct figure was outlined. It walked in and looked around, taking in the forbidding darkness that filled the warehouse. Then it noticed Sting, silhouetted against the deep grey of the skies and the rain coated window.
"Greetings Dark Warrior" the figure said, the voice soft and sure "Greetings Walker of the Night" Sting replied, without a glance His voice was cracked and scratched, worm from lack of use. It held authority though and seemed seeped in sarcasm. The figure walked closer, his black boots sounded loudly on the concrete floor.
"So this is where you haunt" he mused "I figured it wouldn't be a five-star hotel, maybe a graveyard is more your style"
"I have a vulture not a crow"
The figure laughed, the noise bounced off the walls.
"And now you have a raven"
Sting smiled, turning to take in the figure before him. The first to arrive. He was dressed in a red and black kilt that fell to his knees and an ornate gold and black jacket over a bare chest. His short black hair growing well after Father Mitchell shaved it off and two black make-up lines dragged down from his eyes. Those eyes were like dark pebbles and he gave an elaborate bow
"At your service" he replied with a mocking smile "crows and ravens can fly together"
Raven has not changed as far as Sting could see. He still held that dry mocking wit deep in his dark soul. He was a 16 year veteran of wrestling, a legend on the indie circuit and adored as a cult figure on the internet. He was full of darkness, visions of the future and a Messiah like quality. Wrestlers were drawn to him. Wherever he was in whatever federation, he created his own factions with barely any effort and a steely look in his eyes. He had power in him only he could describe. Yet even he fell behind the Dark Warrior. He was part of the dark gathering.
"How's indie life treating you?" Sting asked, his voice low
"The same as always, I still wait to fulfil my destiny and win the TNA title"
There was a beat of silence as two warriors regarded each other through cherry black eyes and painted faces. So much history no one knew of. The two were connected and had only recently met face to face through the TNA which Sting joined briefly to test the waters. But he knew of Raven, felt his presence and saw him through visions. He knew he was one of the good guys, one for justice.
"How did you know to come?" Sting asked suddenly
"I saw the lightning crack" Raven replied, kicking aside some debris at his feet "and knew I was needed"
"Another time of reckoning is upon us; my prophecy is to be fulfilled again"
"What goes around comes around; it shall be fulfilled many times over before we are put into the ground"
"The words have taken on another meaning" Sting got to his feet as he spoke "another curse has risen from the ashes, another wrong to be righted"
The next part of his prophecy blossomed in his mind
"We look to the sky for a vindicator, someone to strike fear into the black hearts of the same men who created him"
"The black hearts of the same men who created me" he repeated aloud, his lips pursed in concentration "so many of them still alive"
"So many for us to destroy" added Raven "each of them will be struck out as they destroy people's lives"
"I am the Dark Warrior; I am the one who has to deal the blow"
"And I am the Walker of the Night who walks by your side" added Raven "I will follow you wherever this takes you, that is my right and my calling"
Sting nodded and jumped down from the window ledge, landing in a swish of black leather duster beside Raven who barely blinked at the sudden movement.
"Do you know the name of the man we are called to stop?" Sting asked
Raven smiled, a sudden dangerous ravenous smile
"The demon who's entered our own little hotbed of hell" he replied "Eric Bischoff"
Fallen Angel Manda (I know that's not ur name anymore but I still call u it!) – thanks for the awesome review and words of encouragement, it means so much to get a review from u, it means the most actually to know that u approve. Love ya :- )
Sweet-Steffie – I am such a fan of ur work that receiving reviews from u leaves me in awe so big thanks
Disco Inferno1: Ur stories about Samia are twisted works of art, thanks for the review. It means a lot
Justagirl8225: thanks for the review! I love to create atmosphere and after watching some old Sting WCW promo pieces I was totally fired up and inspired so I'm glad I achieved it, thanks for reading & reviewing!!
I hope I do all of u proud as u all seem to dig Sting as much as I do so humble thanks. I didn't know if anyone would care about this story so to get this magnificent support is overwhelming and heartfeltly received. Hope u enjoy this chapter
WALKER OF THE NIGHT
The weather had died down slightly now. Sting had moved from the ornate throne and now sat in one of the vast gaping windows of the warehouse, looking out onto a dark forbidding world through eyes so black it appeared his pupils were all that existed in his entire painted face. Still he kept those patterns, black on white. Everyday he painted them, the sacred signs, scars of torment and inner justice. His vulture was circling overhead again, occasionally letting out a squawk as though to check it could still use its voice. Like its master, it was good at being silent and appearing when least expected.
He could feel them edging closer, those who would join him for this dark gathering. He didn't know which states they were dragging themselves from to answer the call but he knew they were not all close. Some of them were faint pulses he could just about detect but he knew they were there. The first part of his prophecy took on another meaning again
"When a man's heart is full of deceit, it burns up, dies and a dark shadow falls over his soul. From the ashes of a once great man has risen a curse, a wrong that must be righted"
When those words were first spoken, no one knew who they applied to. It could have been anyone. But he was called to the wrestling world, a place that shaped him and a place he had to protect. Where so many people's lives were lost. When he was reawakened and heard the prophecy a second time, they applied to one of the greatest, Hulk Hogan. A man once beloved by fans as an iconic role model before burying his legacy by becoming the leader of the black and white New World Order, systematically destroying the company who had brought him back, WCW. That was when Sting was reawakened to his calling. He had disappeared. A face in the crowd, or looming in the rafters. He broke through the ring canvas or plummeted down from the ceiling on a wire. All the time, his intense eyes bored into Hogan, letting him know that he was coming to wipe him from WCW so that people could live again without the poison of the NWO killing it once and for all. The NWO's ranks swelled with wrestlers eager to stay on top while those loyal to WCW struggled to stay afloat. Sting would appear, swinging a bat silently to even the odds and sometimes save the day.
He watched an empire fall to ruins and some of his friends succumb to the poisons. He saw them change without recognition into heartless cruel monsters. He had to learn to trust his enemies.
He won the World title belt from Hogan but JJ Dillon proclaimed it a no contest after Bret Hart declared Sting the winner and demanded the belt back until a rematch could determine the true champion. It was then that Sting broke his year and a half long silence.
"You've got no guts" he glared at JJ Dillon before addressing Hogan, pressing the business end of the bat against his rival's throat like a sword tip "and you? You're a dead man"
Sting learned to trust no one. The only person he could rely upon was himself. In WCW you couldn't trust anyone. Friends were friends for a month, a week sometimes before turning their back on you in pursuit of the gold. It was all about the gold. That was where Sting was different. He was all about justice. Seeing his former friends like Randy Savage, Lex Luger, Kevin Nash turn into such heartless remorseless monsters tore his blackened soul in two. There was no one he could turn to and it made him stronger. It made him unbeatable. It buoyed him up as he took on the entire Hollywood NWO faction and beat them. It made him immoveable and a strong threat to everyone around him. He would tag team with people but would always keep one eye on his corner, waiting for that dagger to sink into his back.
Lightning cracked outside, forking across the expanses of the grey skies. Then silence. Sting looked up, his eyes trained on the doors. He blinked and they opened without the aid of human hands. Against the ravaged background, a short distinct figure was outlined. It walked in and looked around, taking in the forbidding darkness that filled the warehouse. Then it noticed Sting, silhouetted against the deep grey of the skies and the rain coated window.
"Greetings Dark Warrior" the figure said, the voice soft and sure "Greetings Walker of the Night" Sting replied, without a glance His voice was cracked and scratched, worm from lack of use. It held authority though and seemed seeped in sarcasm. The figure walked closer, his black boots sounded loudly on the concrete floor.
"So this is where you haunt" he mused "I figured it wouldn't be a five-star hotel, maybe a graveyard is more your style"
"I have a vulture not a crow"
The figure laughed, the noise bounced off the walls.
"And now you have a raven"
Sting smiled, turning to take in the figure before him. The first to arrive. He was dressed in a red and black kilt that fell to his knees and an ornate gold and black jacket over a bare chest. His short black hair growing well after Father Mitchell shaved it off and two black make-up lines dragged down from his eyes. Those eyes were like dark pebbles and he gave an elaborate bow
"At your service" he replied with a mocking smile "crows and ravens can fly together"
Raven has not changed as far as Sting could see. He still held that dry mocking wit deep in his dark soul. He was a 16 year veteran of wrestling, a legend on the indie circuit and adored as a cult figure on the internet. He was full of darkness, visions of the future and a Messiah like quality. Wrestlers were drawn to him. Wherever he was in whatever federation, he created his own factions with barely any effort and a steely look in his eyes. He had power in him only he could describe. Yet even he fell behind the Dark Warrior. He was part of the dark gathering.
"How's indie life treating you?" Sting asked, his voice low
"The same as always, I still wait to fulfil my destiny and win the TNA title"
There was a beat of silence as two warriors regarded each other through cherry black eyes and painted faces. So much history no one knew of. The two were connected and had only recently met face to face through the TNA which Sting joined briefly to test the waters. But he knew of Raven, felt his presence and saw him through visions. He knew he was one of the good guys, one for justice.
"How did you know to come?" Sting asked suddenly
"I saw the lightning crack" Raven replied, kicking aside some debris at his feet "and knew I was needed"
"Another time of reckoning is upon us; my prophecy is to be fulfilled again"
"What goes around comes around; it shall be fulfilled many times over before we are put into the ground"
"The words have taken on another meaning" Sting got to his feet as he spoke "another curse has risen from the ashes, another wrong to be righted"
The next part of his prophecy blossomed in his mind
"We look to the sky for a vindicator, someone to strike fear into the black hearts of the same men who created him"
"The black hearts of the same men who created me" he repeated aloud, his lips pursed in concentration "so many of them still alive"
"So many for us to destroy" added Raven "each of them will be struck out as they destroy people's lives"
"I am the Dark Warrior; I am the one who has to deal the blow"
"And I am the Walker of the Night who walks by your side" added Raven "I will follow you wherever this takes you, that is my right and my calling"
Sting nodded and jumped down from the window ledge, landing in a swish of black leather duster beside Raven who barely blinked at the sudden movement.
"Do you know the name of the man we are called to stop?" Sting asked
Raven smiled, a sudden dangerous ravenous smile
"The demon who's entered our own little hotbed of hell" he replied "Eric Bischoff"