The Legend Of Tommy Levi
"I feel like Im constantly waiting for something" -Dawkins
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I Feel Like I'm Constantly Waiting for Something Posted by He had tried to just fly to Europe the day of his match, and then fly home afterwards, but it was starting to wear on him. So he'd been in England since Tuesday, and it was starting to wear on him. He needed to be home, to make sure no one was desecrating his haven. Unfortunately, he couldn't. To make matters worse, he was taking on the APA, two guys that hadn't even mastered sloppy ENGLAND english, much less superior AMERICAN english. He was alone in his room, but the case could be made that HE wasn't even really there. He just stammered along, not caring that should anyone walk in, they'd be listening to the ramblings of a mad man Storm... Storm... I didn't mean to. Boyce put you, Boyce hates you. Boyce wanted you to hurt... you hurt him, I hurt you... HE hurt you... No love from your husband... Boyce did it. Storm, hear my pleas... hear them... He winced, trying to take out the images from Tuesday. He had immediately shoved his finger down his throat until the warm singe of vomit rushed up his throat, and down onto the cold cement floor of his locker room when he'd finished his match with her. Yet still, a few days later, it still hurt APA He knew where he could focus his fury, his hatred. Those two yokels... they'd be Boyce of Reason and Tommy Levi as far as he was concerned. It wouldn't be a good day for them Agostino... Preacher... they think they can? They think they can sit there, and talk about; gay jokes aren't funny. It's not funny. It must be hard when you're scared. Storm, I'm SORRY! He could hear her screams in his mind... he felt her body going lifeless once again. Violently he shook his head, and made strides toward regaining his composure. He buried his face into his hands, slowly lifting his head. His eyes were barren deserts, showing no emotion. He was a robot. Rendered without feeling I want to conquer the world, give all the idiots a brand new religion. Agostino, Preacher, you boys are in for a wild ride. For one wild night. I heard what you said. I wasn't amused. All you can do is hammer me with homosexual remarks? Say what you want. Do all you can. Break all the frickin rules, and go to hell with Superman, and die like champions... tomorrow night, you WILL die. You could've just kept your mouths shut. I had no beef with you. You're not Tommy Levi. You're not Storm's b'tch Boyce. You're simply two guys, who like to talk as if they were twelve or thirteen. And hey, that may work against nothing talents like our champion, the coward Damian Storm. But against me, you boys are in over your head. Two on one, eh? Well, the devil's danced many times, and it looks like he's gonna bring out his BEST dancing shoes tomorrow. I fear for what will happen. But I assure you, whatever happens, it's NOT your fault. But it's not mine, either. Blame Boyce. Blame the President. Much like he did to his own wife, he put you in there to be sacrificed. He put you in there to settle HIS scores. Unfortunately, you boys didn't know that you can't beat what you don't know. And you don't know me. And that could very well be the scariest thing you've ever been told. You don't know me. And you won't know me. Not until I give you the education you're begging for. Too bad that by then, it will be too late for you guys. Boyce... it's Boyce's fault. A pisser? Ask Boyce... He laid back on his bed, the heels of his hands pressed against his eye sockets. He just wanted the nightmare to end. One week to go, and then it'd be time. Until then, there'd be many casualties. | ||||