Guest Pa|adin Report post Posted April 6, 2003 “Open the door man.” “Sorry… too busy.” “Too busy? It’s two in the afternoon, what could possibly be so time consuming you couldn’t talk to your only brother?” “… Drinking.” Blackwell shields his eyes as the light from the hallway blinds him. The man simply shakes his head at his brother, closing the door behind him and walking to the bar, pouring himself a drink as Blackwell downs yet another, laying back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He asks, taking a seat across the room from him, just sipping at his drink as Blackwell grabs the bottle of scotch from the coffee table. His brother swipes it away from him. Blackwell scowls, “Do what to myself? I’m doing fine for myself, shank you very much. I’m happy, I’m…” Before he can finish his sentence, he begins to doze off, but his brother shouts at him to force him to wake. “I don’t want to see you ruin yourself over this!” He pleads, slamming his drink down on the table, looking straight into his brother’s eyes. “Don’t you see what happens when you do the right thing? People boo you, Chris, they boo you, for doing the right thing. I’ve been watching you these past few weeks, I’ve seen you win match after match, yet those people out there, they don’t care. You do your job, and they boo you for it. I know you believe in doing the right thing, following the right path and doing things fair, but damnit, it doesn’t mean shit to them.” “Do you think I’m shtupid?” “… What?” His brother asks, puzzled. “You must, ‘cause you’re treating me like a child for gods shake. Remember, broooother, I’m older than you, which meansh, I’m wiser than thou. Do, do you think I’d listen to every word you’d shay? Did you? You may be my brother, but I’ve had to fend for myshelf since I was a child, mopping up your messes, getting you out of trouble. So now, you come along and tell me these shings in my, ‘best interestshs?’ Unlike you, I shtill have faith in people!” “Your obviously drunk, because what you just said is utter bullshit, ok? Let me remind you of something, which should sober you up good. I’m sure you remember this day, July 15th, 1997. Nearly six years ago now…” The mystery man, his face hidden by the shadows, but his blue eyes still pierce through the darkness, staring at his brother. Blackwell looks up, staring back at his brother, then down at the floor, shaking his head again and again, trying to shake off the effects of the alcohol long enough to remember… … ”I can’t believe this! He’s got him up on his shoulders!” The announcer is literally screaming to hear himself over the crowd, who cheer wildly, watching on as the monster of a man in the ring lifts his helpless opponent up on his shoulders. Across the ring is Christian Blackwell, looking on his despair as he tries to break the hold his tag team opponent has on him, but it’s no use, he’s too weary to fight on. He watches on as his brother is thrown off the man shoulder’s, falling, falling, falling towards the canvas… …His head crashing on the mat, bouncing off, lying motionless as the man standing above him raises his arm to the crowd, who chant his name. He grins as he nods his head and points to the steel chair lying by itself on the other side of the ring, the crowd getting to their feet and literally chanting “Yes!” “He’s calling for the steel chair! This has been an unbelievable match folks, and now this is just punishment, but the crowd just can’t get enough of it!” The announcer cries. Blackwell, pain surging through his body, keeps silent, not giving them the satisfaction of hearing him scream in pain. But his brother is another story entirely… blood streaming down his forehead, trickling from his mouth, trying to bring himself to his feet to fight on. His opponent on the other hand, is already on his feet, steel chair in his clutches, a sick smile on his face, but the fans love it, and they call for more, the noise in the arena building. Blackwell watches his brother climb onto his feet, only to look up as the chair comes crashing down… “CRACK!” “CRACK!” “CRACK…” … Blackwell climbs from his seat, a little shaky as first, but sobered by the startling realization of that moment of his past. He walks around the room, not sure what to do, nor say. He looks back at his brother, who has his eyes closed, still remembering. “I didn’t want to think about that again…” His brother looks back up at him, “But you understand why I made you remember.” “I guess so…” “I was never the same after that night, I was in hospital for weeks, while you continued to fight for me, and what did the crowd did then? Did they care about me being hurt? About us being beaten to an inch of our lives?” “…No…” “Heaven forbid they would give at least a little sympathy, support us in some way, after all we did for them. All we got from them was a slap in the face, at least that’s how it felt for me, then they tossed us aside. And what of the team we faced? Were they not booed for their deplorable actions?” “…No…” “No. They were cheered as if they were heroes. They were the new ‘play thing’ for the fans to be content with, and we were chewed up and spat out. We were once cheered by the fans, but they are fickle Chris, they don’t care who you are, or what sort of person you are. They cheer for whoever takes their fancy at the time. I’m sorry for forcing this on you, but can’t you see now? Can’t you see that your efforts don’t mean shit to them!? I don’t want too see you make the same mistake I did! I tried to make them love me, and I got nothing in the end! Nothing! I had the ultimate honour bestowed upon me, and they had the audacity to say I did nothing to deserve it! Don’t mess up your life for them Chris!” Blackwell, a tear rolling down his cheek, looks at his brother as he gets up from his seat, turning towards the door… “Don’t do it for them. Do it for yourself, do it for the honour of your family. We are a dying breed brother, don’t walk out on me now…” The door opens, the light from the corridor fills the room, but Blackwell stands in the center of his darkened abode, watching his brother leave… “I won’t…” He whispers… ... 'Can't you, see that I am needing? Begging for so much more, than you could ever give... I don't, want you too adore me, don't want you to ignore me, when it pleases you... Yeah... and I'll do it on my own...' Muse - Muscle Museum Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest TheBostonStrangler Report post Posted April 6, 2003 Very nice, Mr. Blackwell. This guy has so much backstory to him. It creates a great, complex character that has a ton to say, and a great reason for doing everything he does. I love all these promos, and hopefully we'll be seeing more of them in the future. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Edwin MacPhisto Report post Posted April 7, 2003 I only just saw this, but: rulz0r. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Crowe Report post Posted April 7, 2003 I hope you do know that Blackwell is a future champion. SJL World Champion I should say. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
