Broken Saint Beach Brawl RP

[MasterEvil]

Another week without Sapphire and I feel less and less a man. I shouldn’t have let her leave my sight and now she is trapped in that godforsaken box. Why has Flame done this? Why has he kidnapped her instead of attacking me? If this some kind of revenge for what I did to him on my return night? I wish I know but instead of searching for answers, I’m looking for clues as I am inside in court…the very same court where I had my daughter stolen from me four odd years ago. If that hooded girl is right then I’ll be having a heart attack in two months time, can I survive it? It can only be answered by a question…who is that hooded girl? She said that I need to look back on my past to find the clues needed to find my answer, if I get the answer wrong than I won’t survive that very heart attack. But if I’m going to die in two months time, why am I fighting to reunite with Yashira? Her pregnancy is a fact but not the answer, I love her so much I can’t bear to see her suffer for what I have done. Flame wants me to embrace my pain but there is a thin line between embracing the pain and letting the pain take continue…and if what he does to my special girl is what I fear, then….then…I just don’t want to know what happens.

So here I am in this court sitting by the defendant’s desk, remembering that painful memory and realising the painful truth that my little Sabrina will have utterly no clue on who her real father was, while the cameraman was sitting in the judge’s seat. The camera resting on his right shoulder as he signals that the camera is now recording me, its time to shoot my promo.

TBS: My old name was Jericho Agbonlahor and four odd years…four odd years ago I was legally helpless as I watched the last thing worth being “Jericho Agbonlahor” for was lawfully robbed from me by a woman who hated my guts out from the day she met me. But what is a name if it’s not just a title? Or what is a title if it’s not just a name? From that moment my old name became nothing more than a shackle binding me to such cruel memories. So I killed “Jericho Agbonlahor” until there was nothing left but this “Broken Saint” sitting before you. But who may you be Flame? You attack me, set me on fire and emotionally torture me just for three words…a catchphrase…embrace the pain. Why should I feel your pain man? Why….me? Why…me? Why? Do you want to feel sorry for you Flame? Were you nearly beaten to death by parents or something? You set people on fire and smile as they wither to a blazing death, why should I feel sorry for you? Or maybe you don’t want me to feel sorry, no, maybe you want me to feel your pain because deep inside you’re screaming for help but worried that no one really knows how to help you. So, by making them feel your pain, you hope that they’ll understand how hurt you are and possible help. A saint is a good-hearted person. A saint is an iron-willed person. A saint is forgiving and compassionate…

While speaking my words the palms of my hands rested against the desktop, as if my wrists were cuffed to it. I don’t know if my words sound cold or emotionless…all I know is that I could almost picture that damn smile on that bitch’s face when the judge ruined everything I once was. Oh god the grin on her lawyer’s face still angers me to this day as my hands clench themselves into fists while I continued to speak. When I finished saying my words about who a “saint” is, I stood up from the desk and slowly began to walk around the desk until I was in front of it. It was within the next moment that I was suddenly against the judge’s stand, my hands grasping both sides of the camera as they forced it to glare directly at my face.

TBS: But that isn’t me, that has never been me, not even when I was “Jericho Agbonlahor.” I understand that your pain is burning you on the inside Flame…or may I say Shane…but instead of obtaining a form of aid from me, you have invited me to give you a new definition to the word “pain.” Maybe I don’t fully understand what was the motive, or purpose, of all you’ve done to me but after three weeks of this shit…why should I fucking care? Why should I fucking care that I got beaten back-to-back by some Chris McKenzie guy and Brian-never going to be WEW Champion-James? Why should I fucking care if, no matter what I do, if the writers have their heads up their asses at times? And why should I fucking care if all I need to do, to get sweet revenge against you Shane, is to set Electra Charity ablaze? The simple answer? No, I don’t fucking care. You legitimately pinned me on the last Animosity but in Tables, Ladders and Chairs there is no pinfall or submission…just climb a ladder and grab whatever is dangling above the ring, be it the keys to unlock the box or a bottle of lighter fluid to set it alight. Your perfect chance to hurt not just in body but also in heart as all you need to do is just destroy my body then burn the box. At the very moment the smell of burnt flesh chokes the air I breath…I’ll change, maybe not in front of your eyes but I will change. I could ‘embrace the pain’ like you always want me to or I could just end up become something worst…so very much damn worse.

My tone sounded sick, in a gory kind of way, as my words were filled with anger, darkness and a bit of sadistic glee. At the very moment I mentioned Flame’s real name I ripped the camera out of the cameraman’s hands while forcing it to look more at me and less at the court behind me. Is this anger I feel? Is it fear? Or could it be desire fuelling me on? I mentally wish I knew but I don’t…so instead I walked back over to the defendant’s desk and sat on it, keeping the camera staring into my eyes, before continuing to speak.

TBS: Amusing how courts were suppose to be impartial. With an honest jury, two good lawyers and an incorruptible judge…only four years ago I found out how much of a lie it was. Was daughter was taken away from me and only just now I know what I should do to you Flame. Tomorrow is Beach Brawl, my fourth or so pay-per-view on the bounce, and not only will Seattle experience the greatest summer event ever…but they’ll also witness the trail of Flame. I’m going to be the judge, the jury and the executioner for this trail Shane and well, let’s go through the charges. Assaulting an innocent man with a weapon…guilty. Sending an innocent into a coma by burning them alive…guilty. Assaulting, kidnapping and torturing a pregnant woman…guilty. Those are were the charges, all of them are guilty…the sentence? Wait until tomorrow Shane, the executioner shall see you in the ring. I may not possess an axe, knife or rifle…but all I need to get my revenge are just Tables, Ladders and Chairs. You might have chosen this kind of match but you failed to see that all it’s done is given me the permission to do whatever I wish to you. Maybe I don’t exactly need the weapons…and maybe I don’t need to risk permanent injuries…but I will. I will use whatever is in my hands to hurt you, to torture you, to make you scream in pain. I will go for all the high risk just to certify the fact that you will not WALK away from the match on your own power! Now, dear Flame, may you ask why I am so goddamn pissed right now? Because, honestly, I am afraid…

I spoke with both blazing fury and flaming anger, I spoke with the same volcanic rage I caged in since waking up from that damn coma Flame gave me a couple of months ago. I may never understand the true reason why Flame has done all of this to me but my words were simply fuelled with more and more frustration and ire until my voice was adrenalized by pure animosity towards this seemingly heinous individual. With my peripheral vision I could tell that the cameraman was worrying in case I plan to attack him at any point during my promo, since my trainer did attack the cameramen in all his original promos. But then I noticed an extremely shocked expression on his face when I mentioned the word ‘afraid.’ So I spun around and dropped myself in a sitting position, with my back against the judge’s stand. I then let the camera get a mid-range shot of me before I spoke up once again.

TBS: I am afraid of what might happen to the next person I walk pass before our match. I’m afraid of what I could become once the bell rings. I’m will happen to you during our, Flame. And, most of all, I am afraid of making an almost exact repeat of what happened four years ago. I already stated how I lost my child Sabrina, but I have yet to why I lost her. A few weeks before Sabrina’s first birthday…me and my wife, my sweet Serena, were celebrating how anniversary in the pub while my sister-in-law was babysitting Sabrina. We were totally smashed, so smashed that Serena was unable to move without me carrying her, and decided to drive home since I was still young and partly stupid. The light was green for us as we talked and flirted each other but when we were about to kiss…everything changed. a speeding truck couldn’t use its brakes on time and went straight into the side of us. We rolled at least five times before finally stopping upside down. I was barely breathing but when I looked over I knew from the moment I saw her…Serena was dead, because of my daft decision to drive while intoxicated. Even though the truck driver was sympathetic and offered compensation, I knew it was all my fault and not his…he was only the third wheel in my crime. So yeah, I deserved to be charged for drink-driving and perhaps I don’t deserve to have Sabrina…but I wanted to at least hold her and kiss Serena one last time…

I felt my control over my emotions slipping at each word I have spoken out, my left arm wrapping around myself to supply some kind of comfort. I never thought I would ever admit my darkest month while being broadcasted but maybe its time to let it all go, especially when I could be forever gone in two months time. My left arm squeezed me gently as I began to speak about the truck hitting the car, even closing my eyes when I got to the words ‘Serena was dead.’ I’m literally admitting my guilt on the fact and would anyone truly care? I don’t blame if they don’t since the pass four years of hell has all been my fault and my fault alone. But when I got to my last two lines I felt the wetness of a lone tear streaking down my right cheek, obviously will be seen by whoever was watching this as it took some of my face paint off…I haven’t felt something like that in years, four years to be precise. Instead of wiping the tear off of my face I simply continued to speak for a final time in this promo.

TBS: Yes…I’m crying on air…congratulations Flame, you’ve cracked the Broken Saint shell and have peeked into the “Jericho Agbonlahor” that barely remains. That month four years ago has made me into this depressed outcast in front of you and the reason why I’m going to fight for my life…is because my life is on the line. Yashira is most likely the last chance I’ll ever have of having a future, and that’s not just because of my child being in her womb. Yashira Maran is my light, my night, my day, my dawn…she is EVERYTHING to me and I will gladly surrender my last breath to defend her. You want me to feel your pain, to understand your pain, to embrace your pain…but do you know about my pain? The pain of continuously looking for the End of Heartache? The pain of knowing that you killed your own love? The pain of causing your child to be taken away from you? The pain of realising that it’ll all be my fault if you manage to burn Sapphire and cause her to have a miscarriage? You might see this as stepping stone to greatness but this is not some pride match for me…this isn’t about a match…this isn’t about proving that I deserve a possible title shot…this is not even about Broken Saint versus Flame…to me this is Shane versus Jericho Agbonlahor. You tried to end me and now you’re trying to break a broken man by smashing the last thing he treasures in this world. You have spoken about “embrace the pain” Flame…well, tomorrow night, somebody will feel my pain…and it won’t be me…

A few more tears slowly ejected themselves from my eyes as my guilt-filled voice box, or scientifically known as “larynx,” traded valuable air for the words spoken by this utter nobody that I am. After saying my last few words I dropped the camera and crossed my arms, the elbows resting on my knees, before resting my tear-stained face in the gap between me wrists and my chest. I heard the cameraman move off the stand and my teary peripheral vision barely noticed him picking up the camera and walking off, leaving me alone in the room that ruined who I was.

TAG; Flame
WORDS; Don't know anymore, lol
OUTFIT; Saintly
NOTES; I should have spent more than today to create this RP. >_> Wish you luck though Cash. ^_^
CREDITS; FlawlessGFX Exclusive for BROKEN SAINT
LYRICS; “Just Close Your Eyes” by Waterproof Blonde