Post by Rhaps on Jul 26, 2013 20:12:50 GMT -4
Rhaps is standing somewhere backstage in the Solid Core Gymnasium and a lot of backstage equipment is lying strewn across the floor, almost as if those stage hands working to clear it had left in a hurry. The SIC Monster is standing perfectly still, his head pointed to the ceiling and his eyes are closed. He takes a deep breath as if he is inhaling some delicious nectar or some honeyed smell that is currently giving the Slice-O-Matic 9000 some deep seeded pleasure. Soft whimpering can be heard and he looks down to see a man tied up and his shirt stripped. From his attire that has been discarded to the floor, he is clearly one of the stage hands that work backstage and his night has just taken a significant turn for the worse. Rhaps smiles manically as he looks down at the quivering figure. The man’s eyes bulge in his skull as the Safety Ranger drops to his haunches and extracts his infamous knife. He puts his fingers to his lips to urge his new torture dummy to be silent, because in either scenario, the experience he is about to be subjected to will not be pleasant.
Rhaps: Rhapsy wishes you would just remain silent. You are determined to ruin the fun with your constant complaining. After all, you have twelve pints of blood and Rhapsy doesn’t intend to drain it all from you, just a little experimentally surgery for this evening. Perhaps you would like to see what one of your kidneys looks like or maybe you have never considered shedding some of that extra weight, from your toes.
The stage hand begins screaming with fright, the tape over his mouth obscuring the fear entrenched screams of pure fear. The Canterbury Carver laughs sickeningly, his utter contempt for the individual lying supine at his feet shining through. The man’s hands and feet have been bound and he now flops and squirms like a fish in his bindings, trying vainly to find some means of escape from the torture he is soon to be subjected to. Rhaps lowers the knife and presses it almost gently into his cheek, a thin line of crimson oozing from a shallow wound. As the stage hand begins to anticipate worse to come, the Englishman seems to relent and he withdraws his blade quickly.
Rhaps: Rhapsy is having second thoughts. It really would be a shame to not properly enjoy this moment. After all, you have a rare opportunity to find out exactly what sort of person you are. Have you wondered whether you were a coward or not or what pain a man like yourself could tolerate. Think of it as an experiment into the human subconscious. How much pain can the average man take before he is filled with nothing but rage and an overwhelming thirst for vengeance upon the man who removed the shackles that society places on all of us.
Then you will be like Rhapsy and realise that the world that they want us to live in is full of dull individuals who have never felt a true release. Rhapsy will show you a world where lies will no longer hold you prisoner, a world that shines in imperfection but can be rendered pure with just one twist of a knife.
Rhaps brings his hand to the tape covering the man’s mouth and he rips it off in one smooth motion, causing his victim to scream once from the agony. He smiles evilly before the knife is slowly dragged across the employee’s exposed chest. His blood curdling cries reverberate around the empty corridors as time and again the knife is plunged into his flesh. Rhaps continues his ritual purging of the man’s sins, his screams growing more and more desperate as his life blood is slowly drained from him through a hundred cuts. It seems to last an eternity before his torment finally gets the better of him and the stage hand welcomes the cool embrace of unconsciousness. The Englishman smiles to himself before hefting the man over his shoulder.
Both Rhaps and his knife test dummy traverse the halls before he finds the door he is looking for. The Rhapsitasic One kicks the door open to Vladimir Strife’s office and he enters the room. Inside, the lights have been dimmed and it is fairly obvious that the man himself hasn’t been here for quite some time since it is the night of his return to the King of the Deathmatch title picture. Rhaps nods at that thought, relishing the thought of tangling with his old nemesis in the only arena that ever breathed new life into his depraved soul. The stage hand is draped unceremoniously across the God King’s desk and Rhaps extracts another length of rope. He lashes the poor soul firmly to the desk before slapping his face. The EVPW employee returns to his own personal hell as Rhaps continues to beam that sick smile at him, his knife held aloft almost invitingly.
Stage Hand: Please…..no more. I can’t take any more pain. If you have any shred of humanity you’ll stop this.
Rhaps: You wish to appeal to whatever humanity is left inside this shell of a man? HA. Whatever is left in this body is just the furnace of hellfire that will be unleashed upon the world in beautiful destructive chaos and tonight you are my implement, you are the medium through which the Beast speaks. Now, we’re up to the best part.
Rhaps lowers the knife and the blade rips into the man’s torso once more. His hand jerks this way and that as he carves the man’s chest into ribbons. Fresh shrieks erupt into the still air as he continues his gruesome work. A few more minutes of this pass before Rhaps steps back and admires his handiwork. Words have been sculpted into the unfortunate man’s chest, leaving a clear cut message for the Behemoth. The words read ‘Tonight, we drown in blood’. Above this, the maniac superstar has etched his signature ‘R’ into the man’s right cheek. Rhaps smiles once more before he turns and leaves the room, the man’s muted cries being left in his wake.
TBC ?
Rhaps: Rhapsy wishes you would just remain silent. You are determined to ruin the fun with your constant complaining. After all, you have twelve pints of blood and Rhapsy doesn’t intend to drain it all from you, just a little experimentally surgery for this evening. Perhaps you would like to see what one of your kidneys looks like or maybe you have never considered shedding some of that extra weight, from your toes.
The stage hand begins screaming with fright, the tape over his mouth obscuring the fear entrenched screams of pure fear. The Canterbury Carver laughs sickeningly, his utter contempt for the individual lying supine at his feet shining through. The man’s hands and feet have been bound and he now flops and squirms like a fish in his bindings, trying vainly to find some means of escape from the torture he is soon to be subjected to. Rhaps lowers the knife and presses it almost gently into his cheek, a thin line of crimson oozing from a shallow wound. As the stage hand begins to anticipate worse to come, the Englishman seems to relent and he withdraws his blade quickly.
Rhaps: Rhapsy is having second thoughts. It really would be a shame to not properly enjoy this moment. After all, you have a rare opportunity to find out exactly what sort of person you are. Have you wondered whether you were a coward or not or what pain a man like yourself could tolerate. Think of it as an experiment into the human subconscious. How much pain can the average man take before he is filled with nothing but rage and an overwhelming thirst for vengeance upon the man who removed the shackles that society places on all of us.
Then you will be like Rhapsy and realise that the world that they want us to live in is full of dull individuals who have never felt a true release. Rhapsy will show you a world where lies will no longer hold you prisoner, a world that shines in imperfection but can be rendered pure with just one twist of a knife.
Rhaps brings his hand to the tape covering the man’s mouth and he rips it off in one smooth motion, causing his victim to scream once from the agony. He smiles evilly before the knife is slowly dragged across the employee’s exposed chest. His blood curdling cries reverberate around the empty corridors as time and again the knife is plunged into his flesh. Rhaps continues his ritual purging of the man’s sins, his screams growing more and more desperate as his life blood is slowly drained from him through a hundred cuts. It seems to last an eternity before his torment finally gets the better of him and the stage hand welcomes the cool embrace of unconsciousness. The Englishman smiles to himself before hefting the man over his shoulder.
Both Rhaps and his knife test dummy traverse the halls before he finds the door he is looking for. The Rhapsitasic One kicks the door open to Vladimir Strife’s office and he enters the room. Inside, the lights have been dimmed and it is fairly obvious that the man himself hasn’t been here for quite some time since it is the night of his return to the King of the Deathmatch title picture. Rhaps nods at that thought, relishing the thought of tangling with his old nemesis in the only arena that ever breathed new life into his depraved soul. The stage hand is draped unceremoniously across the God King’s desk and Rhaps extracts another length of rope. He lashes the poor soul firmly to the desk before slapping his face. The EVPW employee returns to his own personal hell as Rhaps continues to beam that sick smile at him, his knife held aloft almost invitingly.
Stage Hand: Please…..no more. I can’t take any more pain. If you have any shred of humanity you’ll stop this.
Rhaps: You wish to appeal to whatever humanity is left inside this shell of a man? HA. Whatever is left in this body is just the furnace of hellfire that will be unleashed upon the world in beautiful destructive chaos and tonight you are my implement, you are the medium through which the Beast speaks. Now, we’re up to the best part.
Rhaps lowers the knife and the blade rips into the man’s torso once more. His hand jerks this way and that as he carves the man’s chest into ribbons. Fresh shrieks erupt into the still air as he continues his gruesome work. A few more minutes of this pass before Rhaps steps back and admires his handiwork. Words have been sculpted into the unfortunate man’s chest, leaving a clear cut message for the Behemoth. The words read ‘Tonight, we drown in blood’. Above this, the maniac superstar has etched his signature ‘R’ into the man’s right cheek. Rhaps smiles once more before he turns and leaves the room, the man’s muted cries being left in his wake.
TBC ?
