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| The Black Flame Within (Sunset Gauntlet); The Dragon Clan, Part III | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 10 2017, 07:47 PM (90 Views) | |
| Eric Donavan | Jul 10 2017, 07:47 PM Post #1 |
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[align=center]“If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.” Niccolo Machiavelli[/align] <span style='font-family:Times'>[align=center]HYBRID Combat School Fairvew, North Carolina July 9th, 2017, 9:07am[/align] The official training center of HYBRID Wrestling is uncharacteristically empty this morning, which is not terribly surprising considering that Predator & Prey was just last night and most of the students and trainers are sleeping off the after-effects in their hotel rooms back in Knoxville. As soon as the card ended, Eric and Lyra took their leave of Thompson-Boling Arena and made a beeline for home. A couple hours sleep and a light breakfast later, the Dragon Clan made the drive from Asheville to Fairview as the sun was coming up over the mountains. While the world slept, the Clan, taking their third go at becoming HPW Tag Team Champions, rose with fire in their eyes and blood pumping lava-hot in their veins. As we come upon them, Eric is one corner of one of the three training rings, working a pair of punch pads onto his hands. The sleeveless white top he wears clings to his torso, part of it disappearing into a pair of emerald-colored workout shorts emblazoned with black and gold tribal dragons. His dark hair is pulled back tightly, as are the ebony locks of Lyra, who waits in the opposite corner of the ring. Black sports top and pants with purple piping look as though they’re painted onto her pale, athletic figure while her wrists and ankles alike are wrapped in black athletic tape. She leans into the turnbuckles, her eyes closed and her head lowered. Eric turns once the gloves are in place and gazes upon his wife and partner for a few moments before he speaks. Eric Donavan: Ready? Not immediately answering, the Priestess of Pain does lift her head after a moment, nodding once. Eric Donavan: No, you’re not. What are you thinking about? Again, no verbal response is offered. Lyra’s head lowers and she shakes her head back and forth, fingers curling in and flexing out over and over again. Eric watches her calmly before rolling his eyes. Eric Donavan: Okay, the silent treatment. That means I did something. Would you mind at least telling me what it is? I can’t make amends if- Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: How long, Eric? Taken briefly aback by the interruption, Eric raises a brow. Eric Donavan: How long? Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: Twice we have had those championships in our grasp and twice we have been denied for no other reason than that the Shane Sisters are gormless, insufferable harlots without a grasp of honor or class. That doesn’t even count the situations with that idiot who ran into your match with Daniel Corvin and with Wulf interfering in the tag match you had alongside Corvin. Yet… still... Her fingers clench tightly enough that her knuckles pop audibly. Eric remains silent during her monologue but there’s a tinge of red to him, a vein or two threatening to pulse. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...still you insist on doing things ‘right’. The words are there and so is the intent. You certainly possess the means. But every time you reach the edge and are about to teach lessons in dire need of learning? She storms forward, hands up, and throws a forearm shot that Eric blocks just in time with the left-hand punch pad. The force behind the shot alters his expression somewhat, stoicism giving way to a layer of surprise atop a hot, bubbly, angry center. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You relent. A left to the body immediately follows, prompting a quick response from Eric while Lyra starts punctuating every word with another swing. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You... A tight right hook... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...hold… A rising left knee... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...BACK! A right-side shoot kick that gets past Eric’s attempt to block it, allowing Lyra’s lower leg to collide with the Irish Dragon’s left side. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: WHY are ANY of them still BREATHING?! Wincing slightly from the kick, Eric flings his arms down to make the punch pads fly off, ducking another right hand and grabbing hold of Lyra’s left arm when she responds with another body shot aimed for the floating ribs. Crossing her arms up, one in each of his hands, he braces his right leg behind hers and forces her to the mat hard. She lands on her upper back and shoulders, immediately attempting a bodyscissors. Barely evading her clutches, Eric takes a knee atop his wife, pressing her arms down against the mat over her head. Lyra does not resist the position and actually relaxes slightly when she feels the weight of her predicament. But only physically. Her anger is still flaring. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: What happened to you?! His predominant expression was one of confusion through Lyra’s onslaught. Now Eric is back to his semi-standard stoicism, staring down at his wife on the mat, trying to find the words or perhaps the action that will best answer her question. Eric Donavan: What exactly do you want me to say, Lyra? Huh? That the black beast buried deep inside of me sleeps the sleep of the dead? Maybe it would be easier if I chalked it up to married life and a loving family whittling my edge down to nothing. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ve become complacent and willing to let things slide because that’s life. Gosh, so many possible answers... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: I’m serious! Anger gives way, albeit slightly, to desperation… frustration. Lyra wrenches at her arms but leverage and power are on Eric’s side; she is not going anywhere until he decides otherwise. Eric Donavan: What happened? Lyra… do I seriously have to explain this again? Did you forget everything that went down in NEWEra a few years ago? Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: That is the past! You are not the man you were! Eric Donavan: Thanks to YOU! Eric’s forceful response shocks Lyra into silence. After a couple of moments, he lets go of her and sits back on the canvas, one arm resting on his bent leg while he stares at his open right palm, chuckling softly. Lyra sits up slowly, looking confused while staring at him. Eric does not look at her as he expands upon his answer. Eric Donavan: You keep asking me where the man I was went as if you’ve forgotten how I was when we first met. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: I... A deep breath is drawn in, then released, by the Priestess. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...I remember. Eric Donavan: One word from the wrong person and I became a monster who tore apart anyone in his path. At one point, you were almost in the crossfire. Or did you forget that? Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You scared the hell out of me... Eric Donavan: And I never want to do that again. I’ve lost count of the injuries I’ve inflicted and the careers I’ve ended. When I walked my happy ass into ECWF, I promised myself that I’d do things right, that I was good enough to go back to the top of the business without giving in to the rage that has already cost me so much. Like my brother. Tensing at the mention of Snake, Lyra hugs her legs close to her chest but Eric shakes his head again. Eric Donavan: And it would be so easy. To open that cage, to let out the monster… and in turn, to carve open every jackass that dared to cross either of us in Hollywood Pro. But that’s the trick, baby: once the monster’s out, there’s no guarantee that he can be put back again. Is a risk like that worth gold and glory? Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: They can’t be allowed to get away with this, Eric. The Shane Sisters conniving their way to the titles and through defenses of them, people trying to settle their strife on our time, costing us victories and satisfaction alike... Unfurling, Lyra sits cross-legged now, gazing at Eric directly. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: Wulf is a great guy, and his partner is amusing in his own way. But he cost you a victory several weeks ago. He stuck his nose in knowing the risks and he never got his comeuppance for that… not even when we beat him and Hammerstein last week. Azul and Vertigo, like them or not, are good at what they do, but they couldn’t get by us. Straight up, two-on-two, Team Hot & Trashy are our bitches. And you own a victory over the very-recently dethroned Corvin, something that I am certain Sam Tolson is aware of, as are the higher-ups. Eric Donavan: We’ve told this to the world how many times already, Lyra? Almost to the point of bragging, I’m certain. What is your point? Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: The point, mi amor… Rising onto her hands and knees, Lyra makes her way over to her husband and places herself directly before him, her hands resting on his biceps. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...is that they’re afraid of you. Of us. And they damn well should be. While so many others bounce from company to company, talking noise that they can’t back up? We’re making statements. We’re putting asses in seats. And the scariest part is that we’re just getting started. Eric Donavan: You’re forgetting the Golden Rule: whoever has the gold, makes the rules. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: Then our goal is clear. That smirk… that infuriating, intoxicating, mentally-debilitating smirk. Lyra licked her lips at the sight of it. Eric Donavan: Just like that, huh? Forgetting, are we, that a fifth team may be joining this little fracas? That such a wild card as this could drastically alter our chances at becoming champions? Laughing softly for a moment, Eric soon turns serious again. Eric Donavan: I’ll do everything within my power just like I know you will, Lyra. That’s all we can reasonably do. I don’t want the monster unleashed again because I don’t trust myself to be able to control it. It’s like driving drunk: you think you can handle yourself just fine. But you can’t. And then you wake up to find out that you’ve ended lives and ruined others. And eventually… that karma catches up and poof… your life is over. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You did NOT just compare yourself to Serge! Eric Donavan: You know I’m right. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You are not a murderer! Eric Donavan: Tell that to my brother. Lyra is on her feet in seconds, with Eric slowly following after. For all the world she looks like she wants to hit him, but as her hand raises, Eric shakes his head once. Lyra tenses, curls her fingers into a fist, then lowers her hand and stomps in a huff. Eric Donavan: Lyra... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: What?! Stepping in, Eric places his hands on his wife’s shoulders. Eric Donavan: I have to do this as a man. Not a monster. If I have to give in to that kind of power and temptation for anything, it isn’t worth having. And before you go telling me that you believe in my ability to control it… don’t. Because we both know that’s bullshit. I didn’t need the monster to become ECWF World Heavyweight Champion, I didn’t need it to start HYBRID Wrestling and make it into the success that it is… and I didn’t need it to bring you into my life. Shutting that beast away, in fact, is what opened the door to all of this. Do you understand? Nodding after a few moments, Lyra steps into Eric’s chest and just leans there, not putting her arms around him but just… supporting herself against him. Eric Donavan: I hold to my word that we will be champions. Maybe Tuesday night, maybe a month or a year from now. But we will become champions. And as to our self-imposed mission... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: You mean…? The Dragon nods, his smirk manifesting again. Eric Donavan: Maybe it’s about time we did some recruiting. But first things first. Hair up and square up, baby. Retrieving and replacing the gloves, Eric smacks them together firmly. He wiggles one, then the other, at Lyra, who smirks right back at him. Eric Donavan: Each one is a sister. Show me what you got. Fists up again, Lyra prepares to lunge in as Eric squares himself and the scene cuts to a close. It returns after a few moments to Eric and Lyra again, after what we can only assume is a few hours later. Showered and dressed, with Lyra in a purple, gypsy-style skirt over laced sandals, a white peasant blouse and a myriad of jangling bracelets on each arm and Eric in a gray Armani with a crimson tie, the Dragon Clan stands before the ring they’d just worked in, before the camera, eyes forward. Eric Donavan: Wulfhammer, you guys threw down hard last week and brought the fight to us. It wasn’t enough to beat us, but it was enough to impress us and further galvanize our respect for you both. The time will come when we clash again and we’re expecting an even better fight when that time comes. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: And what do you know? That’s just a little over a day away! Smirking, Eric nods slightly. Eric Donavan: Azul and Vertigo, same goes for you. You know what we’re capable of by now. You’d better double-up on the training and double-down on the offense before you enter the Gauntlet on Tuesday night. Because if you come up against us the same way you did a couple weeks ago, the only change to the situation is that you’ll go down just a little faster than you did the first time. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: The higher you fly, the further there is to fall. And everything that flies will eventually come crashing down to earth, right into the jaws of the waiting predator. That’s us, enfants.. The Dragon Clan shares a glance, smiling at each other, though the mirth fades completely when the simultaneously turn their eyes back to the camera. Eric Donavan: They call themselves the hottest… Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: They call themselves the smartest, too… Eric Donavan: You might appeal to the bottom-feeders who can get by the fact that you two will spread your thighs for anyone or anything to further your careers... Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: And I suppose some would call you intelligent for managing to still be champions if they didn’t bother looking too far beneath the thin layer of bullshit you’ve spread over your little reign… Yes, the time for funny jokes is definitely over. Eric Donavan: But how smart is it, really, to smack a four-time World Heavyweight Champion with a reputation for violent outbursts and a tendency to spray fire in his opponents’ faces? Maybe you two think that the end justifies the means and that you’re still champions means that it was worth it. Let me tell you something, girls: it wasn’t. Every time you sneak your way out of fighting straight up, using underhanded means to keep your ill-gotten gains, it just makes your opponents that much more determined to bring you down. Just like winning at a casino prompts you to keep betting higher so that you can win more… the bottom is going to eventually drop out. And the way things stand right now, the only thing that will keep Lyra and I from torturing you into bouts of blood-curdling screaming is winning those HPW Tag Team Championships. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: He might have let it go if you just whacked him with the belt, but putting your filthy lips on me? Eric is… possessive, you see… Tugging open her half-buttoned shirt just slightly shows a slender, jewel-adorned leather adornment around her neck. She lets the item speak for itself. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: ...and you got FAR too personal. Yes, we know, it worked. So did your tactics during your defense against us. But for how long do you think you can keep it up? Did you ever, in those drugged-up, addled brains of yours, consider that there’s a reason HPW might want the gold from around your waists? Look in the mirror, if not. You’ll see it soon enough. Sliding his index finger between the collar and Lyra’s neck, Eric draws her into a kiss a deep one, one that has her clinging to him just so she can still stand up. When they part, one could swear they saw smoke spilling from between their lips. Eric Donavan: I’ve broken better than you for the fun of it, Montana and Dakota. And I’ve laughed my pale Irish ass off while they were carted off on stretchers, dripping blood every inch of the way. Just because I’m not willing to be that monster again, however, doesn’t mean that I can’t, or won’t, snap you like silicone-enhanced twigs. It’s sort of like the Genie in Aladdin said: you’d be surprised what you can live through. But I wouldn’t be. I know how far the body can be pushed before it shuts down because I’ve been to that point. And I spit in Death’s eye and turned my back. There’s nothing either of you can do that can stop me. Slow me down, perhaps, put obstacles in my path, maybe… but stop me? I am inevitable. The Dragon Clan is a force that a pair of hookers like you couldn’t hope to stop. We’re walking away with those championships, Shane Sisters… one way or the other. Your only choice in the matter is if you’ll fight like champions as we take them from you, or make us curb stomp you like the parasites that you are. Everything burns. Lyra, still steaming from the kiss, leans into Eric, shooting a cold glare. Lyra LeVeux-Donavan: EVERYTHING. Fade to black.</span> |
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