Every hero has a secret | [Semi-Finals RP #2]

Morrison: “What is Peyton doing? There is no point in doing this!”


The day was September 12th of 2012. A small Toronto crowd listened to the distinct noise of a steel chair hitting skull and flesh. Blood dripped upon the canvas of a below-average ring. The crowd murmured in shock, unsure if they should boo for Peyton who just smashed a poor man’s face in. Some thought they should cheer for the carnage. No one knew for sure. An unconventional song of violence played as Peyton raised the chair again…and brought it down again.


Morrison: “You retained, Peyton! No need to keep this up!”

Norfolk: “It was an unsanctioned match, Morrison. He can keep bashing him until he is damn well tired.”


Morrison: “That just sounds…gruesome!”

Norfolk: “I would say I love it, but I…I think he has enough.”



Norfolk: “Stop it, Peyton!”

Crack! 

Crack! 

Morrison: “The chair is bent out of shape; Mulligan is barely awake.”


Peyton flung the chair out of the ring, stepping over “Mulligan”. He rose the tarnished belt high, covered in both his and Mulligan’s blood. A look of pure satisfaction was on his face as he turned back to the resilient man. Peyton scowled and threw the belt down and turned his full attention to the rising man. He walked over and began to bring him up…only to lock him in a Dragon Sleeper. Mulligan clawed at Peyton’s arms. Peyton tugged tighter, ripping all the breath from Mulligan’s form.



He dropped him roughly back onto the mat and walked over to his belt. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, exiting the ring. The crowd finally settled and began to boo him. Peyton walked calmly behind the curtain.

---

Peyton: “I think I’ve heard the same thing over and over again. The whole hero thing is…off.”


Peyton smirked as he sat down in the empty MSW ring. He sat on top of a turnbuckle, gazing out towards the empty seats. The jacket was not on today; he had garbed himself in normal attire today.


Peyton: “Fine, fine, Manning. I will humor you. I will take off the hero outfit and still come beat you down. I am MSW’s hero. Yeah, you do not get that. It is fine. Many people do not get it. I believe Mr Stevenson does not even get it either. Fine, I understand. I do not need a cape, a logo, or a cowl to come down to this very ring and beat you. I have my philosophy on how to go about things and on how to see you people.”


He played with a coin in his hand.
He guided it through his fingers seamlessly.

Peyton: “I’ve heard this tale before.”


He cleared his throat.


Peyton: “I’ve travelled the world, boy! I have won championship after championship while you were still walkin’ ‘round in your diapers, watchin’ me win. I’ve been to Japan, Mexico, anywhere where there is wrestling, I’ve been there. I’m the best man here. I am the Anti-Christ.”


He waved his hand, indicating him dropping the accent.


Peyton: "Pretty good Southern accent for a canuck, huh?"

He chuckled at his own sense of humor.

Peyton: “You can take that mentality and do something obscene with it. I am tired of people like you. Villains, degenerates, criminals, assholes, or whatever you want to call yourself coming along and acting like they run the place. I do not see you backstage, writing tax reports and what not. You handle none of the finances or anything of the sort. You might be successful, but you are just a competitor, an employee like I. You’re a human, like me. I can kick your teeth in like you can to me. The entire crowd is going to paying to see me vs. you.”


He smiled.


Peyton: “It is going to be a fantastic match, I know. It will be a war. I have aspirations to defeat you, Bryce. No matter the odds, I have all the plans in the world to defeat you. If you want me to, I will not bring the theatrics. I will not come in with a cape and stuff. I will just come in there with the idea of destroying the one thing that is causing anguish for MSW. And the one thing that Frank Washington or someone else who have seen me compete knows that I am tenacious. I do not take lightly to someone’s condescension.”


He flipped the coin his hand and watched it land in his palm.
It was heads. He continued to guide it through his fingers.

Peyton: “Okay, fine, Bryce Manning. You should have craved to face MSW’s personal hero, because the other side, the more serious side, is a lot more dangerous than what you believe. I can only wish you luck. I take no solace in having to decimate you, but I have to, Bryce. I want the MSW World Championship to stay away from condescending guys like you. The world wants me to as well. And remember one thing...if we're quoting comics. I got one for ya.”