It is the night of the first show I'm going to be on. This is not me on the Creaturetron or via satellite or anything like that. This is Slade in the flesh. Speaking of flesh I can't lie when I say getting all oiled up seems kinda gay therefore, against the will of some of these television producers for the DWF I am not going to do it.
I've got my gear all on. I went with the short tights as opposed to the longer ones, even though I do prefer them because you can have more room to add visuals. But the main thing that made me change my mind is that every main eventer except Sting had short tights. I do not want anyone thinking I've got something to hide or I'm out of shape. The design I chose for my tights was a futuristic "Superman" stylized S for Slade on the back of black tights with silver highlights. The kneepads have the same logo with the same colors. My boots are long similar to how The Rock's but have some an image of silver colored flames from the bottom to the center of them reminiscient of Hollywood Hogan's boots. I'm also wearing black gloves with silver stars that kinda look like alien ninja stars on the outside. Yeah, attire is Fresh Supa. That's right. Fresh Supa. It's a Slade catchphrase. Don't worry. I already trademarked it. I get a quarter everytime someone says it.
My hair, one of my favorite physical attributes is as long as it's ever been, and slicked back into a ponytail and I cut off all of my facial hair for a younger look but I keep the sideburns, which happen to be cut in a way that it looks like if your finger touched the edge of them you might cut yourself.
I look in the mirror to admire myself only to realize how I sore I really am from beating the crap out a few douchebags trying to hit up some local Bank of America in the downtown area of the city the show is in. It didn't take long to wrap that situation up and give the authorities a heads up. It had been awhile since the Shadowman had prowled the night.
I glance around before letting my fangs extend. Every single time I do the taste of her blood tickles my tastebuds. I don't have the appetite for anyone else's sense that weird night I first encountered her. Most people know her as Kristen Stewart. Yeah, that skinny ass, pale, white chick in the Twilight flicks. Or that's what I used to think. Turns out she's alot more than that and her acting ability is much better than she gets credit for because she's got everyone, for the most part, fooled. Turns out she is like me. It also turns out I'm feening for some more of her blood.
Shaking my head to get myself out of my brief daze, I look back into the mirror and I see her standing behind me!
"Shit! Where the hell did you come from!?" I almost jump out of my skin.
She puts a finger over my lips and hushes me. I have no idea how the hell she got into the arena and I'm not even going to try and ponder how she got into the locker room area not being seen or heard. As I feel her cold, slender, digit on my lips I can't lie to myself. I wanted to see her.
She let her fangs extend brought her lips to mine, putting her tongue so that she pierced it and kissed me just as the blood started to flow. With a kiss, she fed me her blood and gave me that fix I'd be longing for since I saw her. The kiss was arkward at first, but quickly, quicker than before, I just gave in and returned the wave of passionate coming from her end. In fact, I took it a step further and pulled her in by the small of her exposed back from the black "Snow White & The Huntersman" belly t-shirt she was wearing. She had her hair all let loose and crazy with that "Punk/Rock" style she so loved to exploit and had a pair of tight jeans that complimented her tiny, tight ass. She is full "Kristen Stewart" mode.
After a minute or so she drew back, slowly and reluctantly, then looked into my eyes letting her true eyecolor of blood red appear to me.
"I had to come and wish you luck. I can not stay. It would cause too many complications to be seen here."
"But I..." I stuttered.
"I know you have questions. After tonight you will have them all answered."
She playfully put her hand over my eyes and then took them away and of course, when she took them away, she was gone. It was like she was apart of my imagination but I couldn't have dreamed what just happened up. While this thing going on got weirder and weirder the last thing I needed was for Viper or Seth to find out ANYTHING about it. They were expose my situation and screw everything up. Slade and the Shadowman had to remain two seperate entities with two seperate lives. Period.
Taking a deep breath and licking the last tickle of Rayven's blood from my mouth, I made sure my fangs were retracted, then took a look at a nearby monitor only to see that it was now time for Viper's Pit. I had no doubt in my mind she'd be calling me out so I decided to start out to the sound of her music. I would be following right behind her anyway.
The walk to down the aisle was like walking to be praised after winning a glorious war and walking to the gallows to be beheaded all at the same time. It was quite the rush. This fued I started with Viper and Seth was exactly all I thought it would be and much much more. I had to get the best out of both of them. I didn't care which one took me me on in what match or even if they demanded some stipulations. I was ready to go. I didn't need any fans cheering me either. I wanted to prove to them and the rest of the world I was the real fucking deal and then some. Deep down, I wanted to be like them. Viper was right about me to an extent but I would never admit that to her.
Could it be she was onto me and knew more about me than I knew myself? Naw. Couldn't be. It's funny. In another she probably would have been a great Master as I would have been a great Padwan to her.
Oh well. That is out the window.
I stand right outside the curtains to the entrance. Let's see how this goes....