MD 82: Rush, Sam Smith, Isabel Stone vs Celeste Crimson, Matt Tastic, Sandy Deserts
- Thread starter Showtime
- Start date
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Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Matt Tastic & Sandy Deserts & Celeste Crimson have been granted a 24 hour extension.
The scene opens inside of a dimly lit office. A single lamp sitting atop a thick oak desk illuminates all of its surroundings. The fireplace sits dormant -- the ash inside a remnant of a long-forgotten fire, a distant memory. A bookshelf is draped on the back wall, casting a long shadow across the room; the books on the shelf are covered in a thick layer of dust, almost sealing in every bit of knowledge they have to offer. Sam Smith sits behind the desk in a comfortable leather chair with a pen in hand, scrawling his thoughts onto yellow notepad.
I write to be heard. My thoughts clang around inside of my head like loose change inside of a washing machine. I must suppress these thoughts from the outside world, keeping up appearances is as important as anything when you're in a position like I am. Being in the public eye -- being a professional wrestler -- means that you have to be some sort of perfect being, free from any flaws. The second you begin to show those flaws, people will begin to tug at the threads and leave you an unraveled mess, alone to cope with the aftermath.
I guess I'm sitting here writing all this down, hoping that it'll help me create a stronger outward appearance -- an appearance that will strike fear into the eyes of the WZCW roster and fans alike -- but that is difficult enough, considering the personal fear I had to overcome to even sit at this desk. I haven't entered this office since Chelsea left me, because it holds so many memories. I was afraid of seeing what I had once been and this office represented that perfectly. My law degree hangs above the fire place, various awards and accolades litter shelves across the room; this room holds the man I used to be within its walls.
Smith drops the pen and leans back in his chair. He lets out a deep sigh, staring off into the ceiling.
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A younger Sam Smith sits in the very same office, at the same desk, and in the same chair. The lights in the room shine brightly, while his desk is covered in paperwork. Sam -- cleanly shaven, dressed in a tailored suit, his face still containing an innocent youth -- intently looks down at the paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration.
???: "You work too hard."
Sam looks up from his papers and smiles at the sight of his fiancée, Chelsea Shaw standing in the doorway of his home office. Chelsea is dressed magnificently -- a form-fitting dress accentuating her body, her long blonde hair hanging down just past her shoulders.
Sam smiles before responding.
Smith: "Just trying to catch up on this case, it's a big one."
Chelsea: "That's what you said about the last one, too."
A mischievous smile crosses her lips.
Chelsea: "I'm starting to think you love that job more than you love me."
Sam grins and winks back at her. She meant the world to him, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Smith stands up from his chair and walks over to Chelsea, putting his arm around her.
Smith: "Ready to go?"
Chelsea stuck out her left hand, brandishing the diamond engagement ring around her finger.
Chelsea: "My parents will be ecstatic."
Sam leads her out of the room, turning around to take a look at his office before flipping off the lights and closing the door behind him.
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Sam snaps out of it, looking back down at the yellow notepad on his desk, as he grasps the pen and begins writing again.
As much as things have changed in my life, certain things are still the same. Deep down inside, I still have the same lingering fear of failure that I used to have. I want to prove everybody wrong -- the fans and wrestlers who wrote me off, while I put my career and my livelihood on the line to impress them -- but I don't know if I can. A little over one year ago, I was in the midst of my first Elite X Championship reign -- a fluke, some had called it, while other completely overlooked the fact that I had made history; nobody has ever held that belt longer than I had -- and now here I am today, once again Elite X Champion, having made history in becoming the first two-time champion.
Most wrestlers would be satisfied with these accomplishments, but not I. I had bigger dreams, I had intentions of being the World Heavyweight Champion, but I squandered most of my opportunities against real top flight talent, like Barbosa and Showtime, while I clung onto a false sense of accomplishment, and remained satisfied with the mediocrity that the Elite X Championship represents. It is with these thoughts in my mind that I approach my match this week; myself, Rush, and Isabel Stone are tasked with taking on Matt Tastic, Celeste Crimson, and Sandy Deserts, in a match I'm fairly certain was thrown together without any rhyme or reason.
I don't know Isabel Stone, aside from the fact that she was one of a few young wrestlers who didn't completely shit the bed in their opportunity with the mentorship program, but I do not trust her -- just as I'm sure she does not trust Rush and I. My opponents are nothing out of the ordinary, I've faced Celeste and Tastic many a time, never having lost. Deserts is the wildcard, but I don't think she's a threat. Deserts and Crimson fall into the same category, they're both women in a men's sport, just trying to find their place -- as a matter of fact, the same goes for Stone. Tastic, on the other hand, just seems to be treading water until he can lose another title shot, as always.
It seems fitting then, truth be told, that this match comes as I approach a crossroads of sorts in my career. Will I be satisfied with the mediocrity if the Elite X Championship, facing the Tastics and Crimsons of this world, who have been in the company longer than I have and have absolutely nothing to show for it? Or, will I strive for more? Will I try to prove that my words are not hollow, that the promises I've made to destroy WZCW along with Rush, are not hollow? I know what I want to become, but I face many challenges in getting there. I accept that, but I do not accept the twisted logic within WZCW that will get in my way, trying to latch me to the mediocrity that I've been associated with for far too long.
Triple X, a man I defeated in a TLC match, gets to face the King for a Day, while I am tossed into a random tag match. For far too long, I've been saddled with matches and opponents far below me, while the likes of Tastic and Crimson have walked into matches against the likes of Rush and myself, repeatedly failing to prove their worth. The double standard in WZCW is sickening, and there's nothing that I can do about it alone, or that Rush and I can do about it as a team. I -- we -- can only go out and face the opponents we are given. It is no fault of our own.
Truth be told, some of the blame lies on my shoulders. I just recently squandered an opportunity against the World Heavyweight Champion, and was harshly flung back down the rungs of the ladder to face career midcarders. I refuse to become one of them and be satisfied with being fed to the stars, and earning opportunities for championships solely out of company loyalty.
I deserve the opportunities at the top of the card that are given to people like Steven Holmes -- the man I defended my title against repeatedly, as he received opportunity after opportunity -- just as I deserved the opportunity that El Califa Dragon got on his first day in the company, when I first stepped foot through the doors of WZCW. The madness within WZCW is not lost upon me, as it in upon most others. I am not WZCW's White Knight crusading against evil, I am crusading against lopsided thinking this company promotes, that inspired so many -- myself included -- to give up everything they had to get a chance to step into the WZCW ring.
I embrace the boos, the hatred from the crowd, and the dirty looks from the other wrestlers -- I accept that as my fate, because I am no longer one of the sheep that this company herds. WZCW sends out a message of opportunity, as if the wrestlers should be grateful for being able to step into the ring. Any man in his right mind would see the flaw in that thinking, just as I wish I could have. The company forced me to destroy my back, my knee, and left me as a shell of myself, having to depend on painkillers just to slightly dull the pain -- but WZCW would fire me on sight if they knew, which I why I have to hide it, as I refuse to fall short of destroying this company, and I refuse to disappoint Rush. It's paradoxical. Ridiculous, even.
I am on a warpath, and I encourage anybody in WZCW -- Callahan, Barbosa, SHIT, Titus, I don't care -- to stop me. Showtime better begin to count his days with the belt, as once I get a second chance at him, he will not be as lucky as he was the first time. In the interim, Tastic, Deserts, and Crimson all better realize who they are stepping into the ring with, because I am a far different man than I once was.
Smith sets the pen down next to the pad of paper. Adrenaline courses through his body, as his anger had overtaken him while writing. He reaches over to the sole picture frame on his desk and flings it into the wall across the room.
Among the shattered glass and broken frame lies the photo. The photo shows Sam Smith backstage with Chelsea Shaw, moments removed from winning his first Elite X Championship, a giant grin across his face and the title raised high.
I write to be heard. My thoughts clang around inside of my head like loose change inside of a washing machine. I must suppress these thoughts from the outside world, keeping up appearances is as important as anything when you're in a position like I am. Being in the public eye -- being a professional wrestler -- means that you have to be some sort of perfect being, free from any flaws. The second you begin to show those flaws, people will begin to tug at the threads and leave you an unraveled mess, alone to cope with the aftermath.
I guess I'm sitting here writing all this down, hoping that it'll help me create a stronger outward appearance -- an appearance that will strike fear into the eyes of the WZCW roster and fans alike -- but that is difficult enough, considering the personal fear I had to overcome to even sit at this desk. I haven't entered this office since Chelsea left me, because it holds so many memories. I was afraid of seeing what I had once been and this office represented that perfectly. My law degree hangs above the fire place, various awards and accolades litter shelves across the room; this room holds the man I used to be within its walls.
Smith drops the pen and leans back in his chair. He lets out a deep sigh, staring off into the ceiling.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A younger Sam Smith sits in the very same office, at the same desk, and in the same chair. The lights in the room shine brightly, while his desk is covered in paperwork. Sam -- cleanly shaven, dressed in a tailored suit, his face still containing an innocent youth -- intently looks down at the paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration.
???: "You work too hard."
Sam looks up from his papers and smiles at the sight of his fiancée, Chelsea Shaw standing in the doorway of his home office. Chelsea is dressed magnificently -- a form-fitting dress accentuating her body, her long blonde hair hanging down just past her shoulders.
Sam smiles before responding.
Smith: "Just trying to catch up on this case, it's a big one."
Chelsea: "That's what you said about the last one, too."
A mischievous smile crosses her lips.
Chelsea: "I'm starting to think you love that job more than you love me."
Sam grins and winks back at her. She meant the world to him, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Smith stands up from his chair and walks over to Chelsea, putting his arm around her.
Smith: "Ready to go?"
Chelsea stuck out her left hand, brandishing the diamond engagement ring around her finger.
Chelsea: "My parents will be ecstatic."
Sam leads her out of the room, turning around to take a look at his office before flipping off the lights and closing the door behind him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam snaps out of it, looking back down at the yellow notepad on his desk, as he grasps the pen and begins writing again.
As much as things have changed in my life, certain things are still the same. Deep down inside, I still have the same lingering fear of failure that I used to have. I want to prove everybody wrong -- the fans and wrestlers who wrote me off, while I put my career and my livelihood on the line to impress them -- but I don't know if I can. A little over one year ago, I was in the midst of my first Elite X Championship reign -- a fluke, some had called it, while other completely overlooked the fact that I had made history; nobody has ever held that belt longer than I had -- and now here I am today, once again Elite X Champion, having made history in becoming the first two-time champion.
Most wrestlers would be satisfied with these accomplishments, but not I. I had bigger dreams, I had intentions of being the World Heavyweight Champion, but I squandered most of my opportunities against real top flight talent, like Barbosa and Showtime, while I clung onto a false sense of accomplishment, and remained satisfied with the mediocrity that the Elite X Championship represents. It is with these thoughts in my mind that I approach my match this week; myself, Rush, and Isabel Stone are tasked with taking on Matt Tastic, Celeste Crimson, and Sandy Deserts, in a match I'm fairly certain was thrown together without any rhyme or reason.
I don't know Isabel Stone, aside from the fact that she was one of a few young wrestlers who didn't completely shit the bed in their opportunity with the mentorship program, but I do not trust her -- just as I'm sure she does not trust Rush and I. My opponents are nothing out of the ordinary, I've faced Celeste and Tastic many a time, never having lost. Deserts is the wildcard, but I don't think she's a threat. Deserts and Crimson fall into the same category, they're both women in a men's sport, just trying to find their place -- as a matter of fact, the same goes for Stone. Tastic, on the other hand, just seems to be treading water until he can lose another title shot, as always.
It seems fitting then, truth be told, that this match comes as I approach a crossroads of sorts in my career. Will I be satisfied with the mediocrity if the Elite X Championship, facing the Tastics and Crimsons of this world, who have been in the company longer than I have and have absolutely nothing to show for it? Or, will I strive for more? Will I try to prove that my words are not hollow, that the promises I've made to destroy WZCW along with Rush, are not hollow? I know what I want to become, but I face many challenges in getting there. I accept that, but I do not accept the twisted logic within WZCW that will get in my way, trying to latch me to the mediocrity that I've been associated with for far too long.
Triple X, a man I defeated in a TLC match, gets to face the King for a Day, while I am tossed into a random tag match. For far too long, I've been saddled with matches and opponents far below me, while the likes of Tastic and Crimson have walked into matches against the likes of Rush and myself, repeatedly failing to prove their worth. The double standard in WZCW is sickening, and there's nothing that I can do about it alone, or that Rush and I can do about it as a team. I -- we -- can only go out and face the opponents we are given. It is no fault of our own.
Truth be told, some of the blame lies on my shoulders. I just recently squandered an opportunity against the World Heavyweight Champion, and was harshly flung back down the rungs of the ladder to face career midcarders. I refuse to become one of them and be satisfied with being fed to the stars, and earning opportunities for championships solely out of company loyalty.
I deserve the opportunities at the top of the card that are given to people like Steven Holmes -- the man I defended my title against repeatedly, as he received opportunity after opportunity -- just as I deserved the opportunity that El Califa Dragon got on his first day in the company, when I first stepped foot through the doors of WZCW. The madness within WZCW is not lost upon me, as it in upon most others. I am not WZCW's White Knight crusading against evil, I am crusading against lopsided thinking this company promotes, that inspired so many -- myself included -- to give up everything they had to get a chance to step into the WZCW ring.
I embrace the boos, the hatred from the crowd, and the dirty looks from the other wrestlers -- I accept that as my fate, because I am no longer one of the sheep that this company herds. WZCW sends out a message of opportunity, as if the wrestlers should be grateful for being able to step into the ring. Any man in his right mind would see the flaw in that thinking, just as I wish I could have. The company forced me to destroy my back, my knee, and left me as a shell of myself, having to depend on painkillers just to slightly dull the pain -- but WZCW would fire me on sight if they knew, which I why I have to hide it, as I refuse to fall short of destroying this company, and I refuse to disappoint Rush. It's paradoxical. Ridiculous, even.
I am on a warpath, and I encourage anybody in WZCW -- Callahan, Barbosa, SHIT, Titus, I don't care -- to stop me. Showtime better begin to count his days with the belt, as once I get a second chance at him, he will not be as lucky as he was the first time. In the interim, Tastic, Deserts, and Crimson all better realize who they are stepping into the ring with, because I am a far different man than I once was.
Smith sets the pen down next to the pad of paper. Adrenaline courses through his body, as his anger had overtaken him while writing. He reaches over to the sole picture frame on his desk and flings it into the wall across the room.
Among the shattered glass and broken frame lies the photo. The photo shows Sam Smith backstage with Chelsea Shaw, moments removed from winning his first Elite X Championship, a giant grin across his face and the title raised high.
Muffin Top Merkley
Be a man!
Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do. One chance is all you need.
You only get one chance in this lifetime, dont go down being labelled as a bitch.
Life is short so live life to the fullest. Seize every day and make the most out of every opportunity.
The follies which a man regrets most in his life are those which he didnt commit when he had the opportunity
*****************************
[Color=RoyalBlue3]
Once again, Matt Tastic was given the opportunity to run with the WZCW ball, and once again, Matt Tastic tripped over his own feet and dropped it. Nobody was surprised by Tastic blowing another chance, but somehow nobody expected it to happen either despite it happening in the past repeatedly.
Time and time again, Matt Tastics good behaviour is rewarded with opportunity after opportunity. And time and time again, Matt Tastic has been unable to hit the ball thats been lobbed at him. Even though Tastics proven hes not a reliable closer, after he performs a few more tricks for WZCW management, hes given another doggy treat.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Matt Tastic will surely receive more gold stars, atta boys and pats on the back from WZCW, but it will not be at my expense. The Law of Averages will not win Matt Tastic my EurAsian Title.
Tastic failed twice at Unscripted. First he was unable to win the EurAsian Championship during our match, and then once the bell had rung, he was unsuccessful in making me tap in his little attempt at jockeying for position and remaining relevant in the title hunt. Matt Tastic should be welcoming the new help to WZCW on Ascension, but instead hes allowed to stay topical by competing in six-man tag match on Meltdown.
Sorry. Six-person tag match.
On Meltdown, all of Tastics wetdreams come true when he gets to work along side two women. Matt has a hard enough time pleasing just one woman; he wont even know what to do with two of them. Since Matt will be surrounded by women, our match at Meltdown will likely be even shorter than our match at Unscripted and Matt will have to apologize to his partners and then lie to them when he says I swear that this has never happened to me before.
On one side of Matt will be Celeste Crimson, a woman who lost her touch in this sport. Once successful for her being the only women around who won matches in similar fashion to when a girl wins a game of mini-golf on the first date. Once the guys in the locker room realized that her legs werent opening, we stopped letting her win. Now shes left to her own devices, and continues to be Exhibit A in my argument of why women dont belong in the wrestling ring, especially when being compared as equals to men.
Filling out the rest of Tastics sexual fantasy is Sandy Deserts, one of the newest crop of talent to WZCW and someone who should be earning her stripes on Ascension. Which just goes to prove the old adage Its not who you know, its who you blow. Equal opportunity does not belong in the wrestling ring and not only is Sandy trying to prove herself in a mans sport as a woman, which is a gimmick in its own right, shes a gimmick with a gimmick. Not being comfortable and confident with your abilities, shes relying on two gimmicks to keep her head afloat, which is like wearing a belt and suspenders.
Matt Tastic has always proved that he suffers from performance anxiety whenever he gets to dance, but with Celeste and Sandy accompanying him; its going to be on an entirely new level.
The real matter that needs to be evaluated is not my opponents which are dime a dozen losers, but the fact of why this specific match is even taking place. After both Sam Smith and myself walked out of the most unpredictable Pay-Per Views as the victors, are we being delegated to babysitting duty. Were supervising someone who has proven to have no worth in this company by being unable to win the mentorship program. Isabelle Stone is literally the bottom of the barrel, and our handicap in this match.
Which the exception of once match, every time Matt Tastic and I have been opponents, I have been the one with my arm raised in victory. At Unscripted, I retained my championship and regained my one and only loss to him. I clearly stand above him, so why am I being shown as being equal to him or Celeste?
Sam Smith overcame his challenge in the form of Triple X, to prove that hes not only the greatest Elite X Championship who makes history with every title reign; hes one of the best wrestlers in this company. What does his victory get him? Smith should be moving upwards facing the Steven Holmes, the Titus, the Drake Callahans of WZCW, but rather than proving his position, he gets pinned to me and is forced to help me fight my fight.
Sam Smith and I speak the truth and because of it, we are constantly tried to be squashed under WZCWs thumb. Management books us against their pets in hopes that that would be enough to silence us into acceptance of what this company really is acceptance of our roles in the companys assembly line.
WZCW is a gift in the hands of unworthy management and the fans across the world. Its a gift that many people just like Sam and myself have broken our bodies to enjoy.
Now it is a gift that we will fight take away.
Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
... beep.... beep... beep... beep...
The constant noise of the heart-rate monitor pulsates loudly throughout the hospital room, obtaining a higher frequency with every "beep." The bright white light makes sure everything in the room is clearly visible with an added eerie look of over-cleanliness: white walls, white floors, white bed sheets. The only thing that actually has colour is Sandy Deserts who sits patiently beside the hospital bed, holding the hand of the Professor who is staring right back at her, although quite wearily. She smiles at him as he gives one last smile before attempting to open his mouth to talk... but the words cannot come out. Depressed by his inability to say anything, the Professor looks away almost ashamed that he cannot even hold a conversation with Sandy any more. A look of frustration overcomes Sandy who slaps the bedside table softly, letting go of his hand and stands up, looking to leave. He makes eye contact once more before he closes his eyes, looking to get some sleep. Sandy grabs her bag and exits the room, turning off the lights behind her.
As she goes to leave, she looks through the window from the corridor inside the Professor's room once more, shaking her head with some guilt in her face before she heads off, leaving him to rest for the night. She pushes the button for the elevator and waits for it to arrive. The wait seems like forever, causing Sandy to think which leads to her getting teary-eyed. She wipes her eyes and holds back the tears, not wanting to make a scene in public.
***BUZZZZZZ***
Sandy rummages through her bag as her phone vibrates, indicating that she has received a text message. She opens up the message that her friend Celeste Crimson had sent her that reads only a simple sentence:
Things just weren't going Sandy's way...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A calm breeze strokes the face of Sandy who watches the waves of the beach ripple across itself along the water. Her feet are buried in the sand with some waves slowly creeping up to her legs, wetting the sand where her feet are getting more and more stuck in the ground. She turns around to see the view of the hospital, not far from the beach (a couple of blocks away) before quickly turning back to the ocean, trying to make herself more positive and in a relaxing mood, not thinking about the Professor. Despite the soothing sounds of nature, it still gets her to ponder.
One of the key elements to the Sandman's nature is how excellent and diverse our imagination can be. There are many people out there who have grown up in all sorts of ways, under the influence of environmental and social factors that the dreams they have will range from one end of the spectrum to the other. I've never found what these ends are like but I have seen the dreams of many people to the point where I can look into a person's eyes and tell them the sorts of dreams that they will and are having.
Sandy looks down for second before lifting her head back up.
But what I saw today in someone who I can say I have known the longest in my life was complete emptiness... I did not see anything; no dreams in the mind of the Professor. The lack of a sleeping story has caused much pain for him, making him unwilling to give in to the Sandman's dust in fear in witnessing a nightmare or something much worse: nothing. For a man whose intelligence is quite high and revolves his entire life around psychology, there is nothing more fearsome than losing the ability to imagine and spending the rest of your days unable to dream... and all this was caused by wicked people who use other people to make a point.
A slight grimace appears on Sandy's face for a short moment.
Labels like this can be given to people like Rush and Sam Smith, two men who are considered the best because they hold championship gold along their waists. They've defeated high-profile competitors just to attain and retain these titles so they can continue to be known for their skills and abilities. Normally, this would be praised by many and adulation would be thrown at these two men, more than they can handle but they keep those belts because they smash the dreams of others by creating themselves as nightmares. They research the ideals and imagination of their competition and create themselves as the opposite; what they fear the most. Rush, the dominant monster accompanied by Sam, the cunning opportunist, two men banded together who lick their lips at any exploit and use each other to keep themselves relevant.
To their credit, they've defeated many people who have stood in front of them looking to take them down but they did not understand the true threat that these men pose - the ability to create a nightmare. Unfortunately for them, they face 3 individuals who can see past the nightmare they project and expose them for what they truly are; scared bullies who will do anything to conceal their identity. They look at the team they face and they see that these 3 individuals can pose a threat; Tastic is someone who has a laid-back attitude and ignores any serious threat as a challenge; Celeste has been through hell and back; and I'm something they've never yet to face. Together, we've got a team that could shatter their credibility and has the ability to work together cohesively where all they see on their team is a 3rd wheel to their marriage - Isabel Stone.
Sandy repeats her name very softly and with a bit more anger behind it.
Izzy, I've known you for quite some time and you have with me although we don't see much eye-to-eye. This is the part of the story where the dream becomes a reality for you because now you are free of the Professor you so cleverly slain on multiple occasions and are standing on your own in the big bad world. Yes, you might have Rush & Smith in your corner with Tastic & Celeste in mine but when that dust settles and its only the two of us standing in that ring, just remember that you're an adult now - every action you make will result in a consequence in that action, regardless whether or not it is good or bad. Your action to put away a dear friend of mine and take away his dreams has put you in major debt because it is going to cost you. When Meltdown comes, I'm going to personify bankruptcy and create this own financial nightmare just for you so you can catch a glimpse and begin to understand what this decision you've made to hurt my friend has done to my dreams.
I'm coming for you Izzy and I'm not going to stop until you have consistently sleepless nights because the only thing that you will see in your dreams... is me.
Sandy takes one more breath of air and one more glimpse of the nature in front of her before she closes her eyes and turns around, looking to head back.
The constant noise of the heart-rate monitor pulsates loudly throughout the hospital room, obtaining a higher frequency with every "beep." The bright white light makes sure everything in the room is clearly visible with an added eerie look of over-cleanliness: white walls, white floors, white bed sheets. The only thing that actually has colour is Sandy Deserts who sits patiently beside the hospital bed, holding the hand of the Professor who is staring right back at her, although quite wearily. She smiles at him as he gives one last smile before attempting to open his mouth to talk... but the words cannot come out. Depressed by his inability to say anything, the Professor looks away almost ashamed that he cannot even hold a conversation with Sandy any more. A look of frustration overcomes Sandy who slaps the bedside table softly, letting go of his hand and stands up, looking to leave. He makes eye contact once more before he closes his eyes, looking to get some sleep. Sandy grabs her bag and exits the room, turning off the lights behind her.
As she goes to leave, she looks through the window from the corridor inside the Professor's room once more, shaking her head with some guilt in her face before she heads off, leaving him to rest for the night. She pushes the button for the elevator and waits for it to arrive. The wait seems like forever, causing Sandy to think which leads to her getting teary-eyed. She wipes her eyes and holds back the tears, not wanting to make a scene in public.
***BUZZZZZZ***
Sandy rummages through her bag as her phone vibrates, indicating that she has received a text message. She opens up the message that her friend Celeste Crimson had sent her that reads only a simple sentence:
"We need to talk."
Things just weren't going Sandy's way...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A calm breeze strokes the face of Sandy who watches the waves of the beach ripple across itself along the water. Her feet are buried in the sand with some waves slowly creeping up to her legs, wetting the sand where her feet are getting more and more stuck in the ground. She turns around to see the view of the hospital, not far from the beach (a couple of blocks away) before quickly turning back to the ocean, trying to make herself more positive and in a relaxing mood, not thinking about the Professor. Despite the soothing sounds of nature, it still gets her to ponder.
One of the key elements to the Sandman's nature is how excellent and diverse our imagination can be. There are many people out there who have grown up in all sorts of ways, under the influence of environmental and social factors that the dreams they have will range from one end of the spectrum to the other. I've never found what these ends are like but I have seen the dreams of many people to the point where I can look into a person's eyes and tell them the sorts of dreams that they will and are having.
Sandy looks down for second before lifting her head back up.
But what I saw today in someone who I can say I have known the longest in my life was complete emptiness... I did not see anything; no dreams in the mind of the Professor. The lack of a sleeping story has caused much pain for him, making him unwilling to give in to the Sandman's dust in fear in witnessing a nightmare or something much worse: nothing. For a man whose intelligence is quite high and revolves his entire life around psychology, there is nothing more fearsome than losing the ability to imagine and spending the rest of your days unable to dream... and all this was caused by wicked people who use other people to make a point.
A slight grimace appears on Sandy's face for a short moment.
Labels like this can be given to people like Rush and Sam Smith, two men who are considered the best because they hold championship gold along their waists. They've defeated high-profile competitors just to attain and retain these titles so they can continue to be known for their skills and abilities. Normally, this would be praised by many and adulation would be thrown at these two men, more than they can handle but they keep those belts because they smash the dreams of others by creating themselves as nightmares. They research the ideals and imagination of their competition and create themselves as the opposite; what they fear the most. Rush, the dominant monster accompanied by Sam, the cunning opportunist, two men banded together who lick their lips at any exploit and use each other to keep themselves relevant.
To their credit, they've defeated many people who have stood in front of them looking to take them down but they did not understand the true threat that these men pose - the ability to create a nightmare. Unfortunately for them, they face 3 individuals who can see past the nightmare they project and expose them for what they truly are; scared bullies who will do anything to conceal their identity. They look at the team they face and they see that these 3 individuals can pose a threat; Tastic is someone who has a laid-back attitude and ignores any serious threat as a challenge; Celeste has been through hell and back; and I'm something they've never yet to face. Together, we've got a team that could shatter their credibility and has the ability to work together cohesively where all they see on their team is a 3rd wheel to their marriage - Isabel Stone.
Sandy repeats her name very softly and with a bit more anger behind it.
Izzy, I've known you for quite some time and you have with me although we don't see much eye-to-eye. This is the part of the story where the dream becomes a reality for you because now you are free of the Professor you so cleverly slain on multiple occasions and are standing on your own in the big bad world. Yes, you might have Rush & Smith in your corner with Tastic & Celeste in mine but when that dust settles and its only the two of us standing in that ring, just remember that you're an adult now - every action you make will result in a consequence in that action, regardless whether or not it is good or bad. Your action to put away a dear friend of mine and take away his dreams has put you in major debt because it is going to cost you. When Meltdown comes, I'm going to personify bankruptcy and create this own financial nightmare just for you so you can catch a glimpse and begin to understand what this decision you've made to hurt my friend has done to my dreams.
I'm coming for you Izzy and I'm not going to stop until you have consistently sleepless nights because the only thing that you will see in your dreams... is me.
Sandy takes one more breath of air and one more glimpse of the nature in front of her before she closes her eyes and turns around, looking to head back.
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