Post by knightmask on Apr 26, 2017 6:42:03 GMT
Pinned beneath 405 pounds of metal, the wrestler called KnightMask called upon his strength, his passion, his faith and his soul. In a single, primal growl, he pitted them against the rusting steel barbell and its cast iron plates.
There was a collision. Strength and will, steel and gravity.
The bar exploded off the wrestler's chest, ascending up, up and up until his arms straightened and then fell slightly back, dropping the bar onto the rack above him. The effort left his head light and his vision a haze. The will and the spirit had triumphed, but even in defeat, steel and gravity had extracted a toll.
Kick Axe's 'Hunger' pounded his ears as he staggered off of the bench, towards the pull-up bar. He broke into a run, flinging his body into the air and catching the bar in his hands. With a grunt, he pulled his chin up to the bar, then past it, until his arms were extended underneath him and he was looking down at the rest of the gym. Keeping his arms straight, he raised his body up, then his legs followed. He held the handstand on the pull-up bar for a second, then commenced into inverted push-ups before falling back into a hang and repeating the motion.
"Wow...was he always that strong....?" a young wrestler asked, as he watched KnightMask's training, his mouth agape in awe.
"No, no...." answered a woman's voice, "He wasn't."
The trainee turned to see a woman standing next to him. Her face was sharp featured and high cheek-boned but also soft and nearly round in its shape; the black silken hair that framed it reached down to the middle of her legs, legs whose power was apparent even beneath a thick layer of soft, smooth bronze skin.
Her dark, almond eyes somberly almost sadly observed KnightMask's. She had the look as if she was watching something intimately familiar to her, almost the look that his mom used to have when she watched him play.
"So...how did he become like he is now?"
"Through pain. Lots and lots of pain...”
The trainee looked questioningly at the beautiful stranger to the gym, who seemed to know so much about KnightMask.
“His brother, his uncles, his cousins, his father...all of them were wrestlers. The Charging Bulls were the top wrestling team in the state most years and even when they weren't, they were the most feared.
“KnightMask...he preferred to draw, to read comic-books, play with action figures...he loved the superheroes. For as long as I can remember, he loved superheroes. While other people in Sparta were looking up to all the top wrestling stars, Tyrone was looking to Spiderman and Batman as his role models."
The woman looked over at KnightMask, who had taken to the Olympic rings, where he held himself aloft in an iron cross.
“KnightMask didn't win much. Not as a child. In fact, for a long time, he never won. Every time he stepped onto the mat, he was simply bowled over by the anger, the cruelty and the intensity of his opponents. He lacked a mean streak. He was nice, obliging and almost...submissive. If you didn't know better, you'd think he wasn't trying, but that wasn't it. He was trying the hardest of all of them. But he wasn’t training because he wanted to be able to assert dominance over others or because he wanted to hurt people. “
Dropping from the rings, KnightMask slid into the ring, where a collection of wrestlers awaited him, springing onto the attack as soon as he entered.
“So, why become a wrestler if you don’t want to hurt people? Isn’t that what it’s about? Beating your opponent?”
“Not for KnightMask. I guess in KnightMask’s case…he just wanted to realize his superhero ideal. The other boys in his family had shattered it for him and he wasn’t going to rest until he’d reasserted its truth. Wrestling was his medium for doing that. And I guess it wasn’t a bad fit. The superheroes expressed their heroic qualities through combat, didn’t they?
"
"But...I still don't get it. Why wouldn't he have gotten involved in the comic industry or something...if he loved superheroes so much...?"
"Well...I suppose part of it was his older brother. It was important to him...maybe even more important than it was to KnightMask. He wanted to give the wrestling world something back. He pushed KnightMaks so hard...I think he was either going to kill him...or turn him into the wrestler he'd wanted him to be. He didn't want wrestling to be dominated by men like his father, you see...or men like he himself had been for much of his career...and then...there was the shadow..."
The woman, though looking in the direction of KnightMask as he sparred in the ring, seemed to be fixed upon something more distant. The young wrestler followed her gaze and realized that she was looking through the window at the full moon.
"...the shadow...that fell over all of wrestling, leaving in it darkness and tumult...KnightMask, he hoped...could be a torchbearer, not only of the family name...but of something greater...to illuminate the world of wrestling...to bring it out of the darkness...that was Taurus's hope. That was Taurus's mission."
"Taurus...? The Club American Wrestling champion...? The Universal Warrior League champion...? That's KnightMask's older brother...? But then that means he's also brothers with...with..."
A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning were followed by a torrent of rain that pounded down upon the roof of the gym. 'Bark at the Moon' played through the sound system, while in the ring, KnightMask exchanged holds with a partner. Iron weights clanged and dropped. Expert kicks slammed into the heavy bag. Yet the dominant sound wa the plaintive howling of a chorus of wolves.
She wouldn't speak the name. She merely nodded.
ROGAR.
There was a collision. Strength and will, steel and gravity.
The bar exploded off the wrestler's chest, ascending up, up and up until his arms straightened and then fell slightly back, dropping the bar onto the rack above him. The effort left his head light and his vision a haze. The will and the spirit had triumphed, but even in defeat, steel and gravity had extracted a toll.
Kick Axe's 'Hunger' pounded his ears as he staggered off of the bench, towards the pull-up bar. He broke into a run, flinging his body into the air and catching the bar in his hands. With a grunt, he pulled his chin up to the bar, then past it, until his arms were extended underneath him and he was looking down at the rest of the gym. Keeping his arms straight, he raised his body up, then his legs followed. He held the handstand on the pull-up bar for a second, then commenced into inverted push-ups before falling back into a hang and repeating the motion.
"Wow...was he always that strong....?" a young wrestler asked, as he watched KnightMask's training, his mouth agape in awe.
"No, no...." answered a woman's voice, "He wasn't."
The trainee turned to see a woman standing next to him. Her face was sharp featured and high cheek-boned but also soft and nearly round in its shape; the black silken hair that framed it reached down to the middle of her legs, legs whose power was apparent even beneath a thick layer of soft, smooth bronze skin.
Her dark, almond eyes somberly almost sadly observed KnightMask's. She had the look as if she was watching something intimately familiar to her, almost the look that his mom used to have when she watched him play.
"So...how did he become like he is now?"
"Through pain. Lots and lots of pain...”
The trainee looked questioningly at the beautiful stranger to the gym, who seemed to know so much about KnightMask.
“His brother, his uncles, his cousins, his father...all of them were wrestlers. The Charging Bulls were the top wrestling team in the state most years and even when they weren't, they were the most feared.
“KnightMask...he preferred to draw, to read comic-books, play with action figures...he loved the superheroes. For as long as I can remember, he loved superheroes. While other people in Sparta were looking up to all the top wrestling stars, Tyrone was looking to Spiderman and Batman as his role models."
The woman looked over at KnightMask, who had taken to the Olympic rings, where he held himself aloft in an iron cross.
“KnightMask didn't win much. Not as a child. In fact, for a long time, he never won. Every time he stepped onto the mat, he was simply bowled over by the anger, the cruelty and the intensity of his opponents. He lacked a mean streak. He was nice, obliging and almost...submissive. If you didn't know better, you'd think he wasn't trying, but that wasn't it. He was trying the hardest of all of them. But he wasn’t training because he wanted to be able to assert dominance over others or because he wanted to hurt people. “
Dropping from the rings, KnightMask slid into the ring, where a collection of wrestlers awaited him, springing onto the attack as soon as he entered.
“So, why become a wrestler if you don’t want to hurt people? Isn’t that what it’s about? Beating your opponent?”
“Not for KnightMask. I guess in KnightMask’s case…he just wanted to realize his superhero ideal. The other boys in his family had shattered it for him and he wasn’t going to rest until he’d reasserted its truth. Wrestling was his medium for doing that. And I guess it wasn’t a bad fit. The superheroes expressed their heroic qualities through combat, didn’t they?
"
"But...I still don't get it. Why wouldn't he have gotten involved in the comic industry or something...if he loved superheroes so much...?"
"Well...I suppose part of it was his older brother. It was important to him...maybe even more important than it was to KnightMask. He wanted to give the wrestling world something back. He pushed KnightMaks so hard...I think he was either going to kill him...or turn him into the wrestler he'd wanted him to be. He didn't want wrestling to be dominated by men like his father, you see...or men like he himself had been for much of his career...and then...there was the shadow..."
The woman, though looking in the direction of KnightMask as he sparred in the ring, seemed to be fixed upon something more distant. The young wrestler followed her gaze and realized that she was looking through the window at the full moon.
"...the shadow...that fell over all of wrestling, leaving in it darkness and tumult...KnightMask, he hoped...could be a torchbearer, not only of the family name...but of something greater...to illuminate the world of wrestling...to bring it out of the darkness...that was Taurus's hope. That was Taurus's mission."
"Taurus...? The Club American Wrestling champion...? The Universal Warrior League champion...? That's KnightMask's older brother...? But then that means he's also brothers with...with..."
A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning were followed by a torrent of rain that pounded down upon the roof of the gym. 'Bark at the Moon' played through the sound system, while in the ring, KnightMask exchanged holds with a partner. Iron weights clanged and dropped. Expert kicks slammed into the heavy bag. Yet the dominant sound wa the plaintive howling of a chorus of wolves.
She wouldn't speak the name. She merely nodded.
ROGAR.