The Storm has only Just Begun -- UWS RP Board

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Date Posted: 03:06:35 07/24/03 Thu
Author: Craig Lassiter
Subject: The Storm has only Just Begun

It's nearly dark in the middle of a summer day. Curious that. There's definitely a storm brewing. Clouds swirl a mixture of blue, grey, and black in an all-natural portent to the tiny people below. Even now, scant hours before the inevitable, they still run around, preparing themselves against unbeatable nature. Local stores are cleared out of the staples: milk, bread, candles, batteries, and even cigarettes and snack foods. If mankind has learned anything during its short lease of this planet, it's to never abstain from their vices, even in the face of imminent danger.

The first droplets of rain send the unprepared scurrying like ants, although significantly less organized, it has to be said. Overly cheery to their neighbors, because in the back of their minds they wonder if--maybe--that might be the last they ever see of them. One particularly callous member of the small fishing village regrets not getting his weed wacker back; just in case the terrible was to happen to the man who borrowed it.

Among the rushing, diminishing hordes of people, one man walks casually, his rain slicker cinched tight against the ever-intensifying rain. Obviously a stranger, he watches the villagers rushing with curiosity, occasionally nipping from a droplet-covered silver hipflask. Over the span of half an hour, the village becomes a ghost town; shutters are latched, doors are bolted and secured, and windows are taped or boarded. The stranger continues onward, towards an empty playground, the rain coming down in sheets now and the sky becoming even darker. Taking a seat on a rubber swing, he retrieves his hipflask and downs the last of its contents. Screwing the cap back on, the stranger takes his eyes off the sky to watch the water cascade off the side of the smooth flask.

Just as the sound of far-off thunder rumbles over the land, the stranger looks up, tilting his yellow raincap up to reveal himself to be Craig Lassiter. Even underneath his slicker, his face is dripping wet thanks to the shifting winds of the oncoming storm.

"What do you give a man who has everything?" he asks, to no one in particular. "The answer, of course, is a place to put it all. And what do you show to a man who has seen everything? The answer... nothing. Because no man has seen nothing and lived to tell the tale."

Craig kicks his booted feet forward, releasing him into a casual swing, holding the chain supports on either side. The wind pushes him from side to side, but he maintains a slow swinging to and fro from that same wind.

"I've seen a lot in my day. But just when I think I've seen everything, something or someone comes along that breaks all the rules and reminds me of just how little I have seen. Sin and all his boys--what do they call themselves, The Acts of God?--are nothing new. Religious zealots of differing ranges and styles on paper, but they are no different than the hundreds of other punks I've seen pass through the halls of wrestledom over the years. The only difference between them is the size of the chips on their shoulders."

Craig lowers his feet, sinking them into the mud underneath the swing that had not been there minutes previous. His swinging slows, then stops.

"Curtis Slamm," he said, blowing a droplet of rain off the tip of his nose in the process, "now he's different. A friend from the 'good ole days', I really worry about him. Sure, everyone has their own personal demons; some can control them, and some cannot. And now, after my retirement tour has come to a screeching halt, I'm thrust back into a match with a whole lot on the line. Not only are we outnumbered, but we are facing the UWS Tag Team Champions, presumably, along with either Sin or Eric Manson." Craig wipes the water from his eyes as the winds pick up again. "You know something, I've never held a tag team title in this business. I remember when I teamed up with Sean as 'The Messengers', now that was something. We were on our way to tag team gold when the fed went belly-up. It's a shame, really. But now I've got a chance to win gold with a man who has done it all. But I still worry about him. He's been all over the page as of late. I just hope he can suck it up when need be. Three-on-two is difficult enough, but three-on-one is no picnic, let me tell you."

The windspeed continues to rise as Craig steps off the swing and walks towards a large metal slide. Hearing the sound of thunder even closer, he changes his mind and heads over to the fence, leaning against it to hold himself up against the wind.

"A lot of people ask me about Babe, as if I'm supposed to know anything. Sure, we have our history, but if I live a million years, I'll never understand women. They seem motivated by the phases of the moon, and I guess in a way they are. But Babe is more complicated than most women even. I thought I knew where she was coming from, but then she pulled this 180. The one thing I do know about her, is just how tough she is. This girl has been attached to the wrestling business--a male dominated organization, to say the least--since she was seven years old. I'm sure psychologists these days would warn against such a thing, but what's done is done. This girl isn't afraid to fight for what she wants, because that's all she's ever seen in her life. Two people want something, they fight, and the better man or woman gets it. Babe once said to me, 'Who remembers the silver medalists?' She's a fighter, that's for sure. And I'm not looking forward to putting myself in her way."

"But sometimes you've got to stick up for what you believe in. Sometimes you've got to do something that you know is going to hurt to make things better in the long run. It's the difference between yanking off a bandage in one go, and prying it off slowly. The net result is the same, but who wants to torture themselves longer than necessary? Regardless to what I've done to my body over the years, I sure don't. Speaking of which..."

Craig adeptly grabs his raincap as the wind gusts it off his head.

"Where was I?" he muses. "Well, now I've got a million dollar bounty placed on my partner's head. Sure, in my wilder days, I'd be putting together a scheme to get that case myself as we speak. But those days are long passed. Right now, it just means there will be a whole lot more difficult trying to fend off the Acts of God. The UWS is chock full of guys who would push their mother down a flight of stairs for nine zeroes. Hell, I used to be one of them. But not anymore. At Dark Carnival, Slamm and I are going to have to see just what we've got left in us. The kids are younger and hungrier but never underestimate the value of experience. Some of us have seen it all. And the fact that I'm not looking forward to seeing nothing is gonna keep this heart beating, no matter what. Dark Carnival is going to be a wild ride, that's for sure."

Craig Lassiter smiles as rain drips off every part of his face.

"And I'm actually looking forward to it."

The dark sky lights up behind him as he grins, proving that nature has a sense of theatre. As the rain continues to fall in all directions, Craig just saunters off through the playground, whistling as he walks.

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