The Black Gael

by **krzy** Tue Oct 24, 2017 12:35 pm

In this CMV.com exclusive video, a man is shown sitting crossed legged on a baked concrete floor, head to chest covered in paint. He looks up at the camera with bloodshot eyes, his words vaguely slurred as he speaks.

Papa used to read me the stories.

Papa used to preach the warnings.

Be careful, son, he said. No man, no weapon, will ever be as dangerous to you as the bottle. Alcohol, he told me, corrupts. It changes you. All the ma's and pa's would tell the children the story of Gael, the monster who feasted on the blood of the intoxicated. As they stumbled home late at night, he would swoop down and their lives would never be the same.

But I was never afraid Papa. Gael was no boogeyman to me. I ran right to the dangers you tried to scare me away from. With bottle in hand I'm brave! I'm strong! I'm alive! Papa would be so disappointed in his last son, but his voice is foriegn to me.

Papa's gone...

Papa's gone...

Papa's gone...

Papa's gone to the land where the food and drink never stops and he can enjoy it all without fear of Gael...

I remember one of the stories you told me.

About the man who was cheating on his wife with a floozy he met at the pub. You told me that one papa, remember that? Except it only came out when you thought I was a sleep. I heard every word and I dreamed of it all.

The man, you said, would stay out late at night every night after telling the woman he used to love that he was at work. The new lover would meet you at the pub to drink the night away with you through laughter and through sadness. Some nights you'd come straight home, others you'd take a detour. Until one night you went too far. One night your veins were filled with liquor, not blood, and that night Gael was hungrier than ever.

He took her from you, papa, and you had no choice but to come back home.

Did you envy me because I could sleep and you couldn't?

Did you detest Gael because he gained while you lost?

Did you hate me for being a shackle you couldn't break?

Was Gael good or bad...you never said.

You only said to be wary.

Time has sapped the strength from your words because I've been anything but. I took his name, papa. Did you know that? I am Gael, but if it was out of respect or fear, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that I'm safe now. The paint protects me. The paint masks the stench of my blood when I cave to my cravings.

Sometimes I think about washing it off so Gael could take me. But I'm not ready to give up yet. Look at me now, papa. I'm gonna be a fighter. I used to go to the bar every night until time lost all meaning. And then one day it was all gone. The bar was destroyed and I had nowhere to go. Was that a sign from you, papa or was Gael giving me one last chance to redeem myself. Does he love me more than you...

The scariest part was that with the bar gone I had nowhere to sleep because I spent all of my money trying to make the pain go away. With my last dollar I took a bus down to a training facility and now I have the chance to make something of myself. Deep down I know I'll drink the money away. It's all I know to do. Maybe I should let Gael take me to you. But I'm scared.

Am I a hypocrite, papa?

These men don't fear Gael. They mock the paint. They whisper behind my back. It's the paint that keeps him away.

It keeps him away.

I'm not ready to meet him.

They laugh and it's okay. They all have their demons. They all have their fears. I'm the only one brave enough to name myself after mine. Papa! No one can touch me!

The scariest part about the night is closing my eyes and hearing your stories like all those years ago. How much has changed. I'm not the man you wanted that boy to grow up to be. Being in CMV won't change that...it's only the means to and end, no matter the cost. I don't want to fight. I was supposed to be the only victim. I don't want to hurt anyone but myself. I have to. The streets are too cold at night without a bottle to keep me warm.

The camera slowly zooms out to reveal that this newcomer to CMV, The Black Gael, is surrounding by a disturbing, concerning amount of bottles. Bigs ones, small ones they all once contained liquor and now they're all empty. The Black Gael begins rocking back and forth is whispering the same sentence over and over again as if it were a mantra or a prayer.

I am not a bad man...

I am not a bad man...

I am not a bad man...

I am not a bad boy...

Just before the scene fades to black, The Black Gael pulls a flask out of his pocket with a trembling hand. He pulls off the cap and takes a long pull, swallowing down the burning liquid, his inhibitions and regrets. He puts the cap back on, wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand and sighs.

Papa, I'm as ready as I ever will be. There's no turning back now.

by C9 Suntan Tue Oct 24, 2017 1:18 pm

Holy shit

by Gumble Tue Oct 24, 2017 1:27 pm

This is beautiful.

by **Mr. Dashing** Tue Oct 24, 2017 2:26 pm

10/10 very chill inducing

by Austin Wed Oct 25, 2017 1:02 pm

Again proving yourself to be an incredibly underrated writer. Cheers.

by **krzy** Mon Oct 30, 2017 11:43 am

Moments before his match here on Reality Wrestling, The Black Gael is shown to be visibly anxious as he paces back and forth backstage, flask in hand. He speaks in the same erratic cadence as last time, sharply switching from vomiting out words at an intelligible rate to talking as if he were choosing each word individually, letter by letter. Each sentence puncuated by a telltale slur. He can walk fine and play the part, but his deeply baggy eyes and hoarse voice give the game away.

Papa!

Papa it's almost time. And it's about that time where I feel like I'm expected to fail. Millions of eyes are out there, papa! Brown, red, green...they're all out there watching for the misstep that sends me crashing face first into the ground.

It all feels too familiar; I bet they all wear your mask. I hope they do.

I pray they do.

Maybe then it'll feel a little like home.

It was about a Tuesday, wasn't it, papa? It was Saturday night after school, and I remember it perfectly because you were wearing a red shirt. You told me that Gael wasn't my friend. You told me that Gael was a monster who preyed on the foolish, but then why hasn't he taken me, papa?

Haha! Why am I still alive? If I am....with every sip it gets so much harder to tell. With every bottle the numbness spreads. It's so close to my heart now, papa. It's so close that I can feel my heart struggling with every beat. It wont give up on me. Why does it love me more than you?

Why am I supposed to fear Gael when it's the only thing that made sense? It takes you when your become a danger to not just everyone, but yourself too. We should all take his name. We should all praise him and thank him for making this world a better place! But Gael, I pray to you as this paint dries on my skin, to spare me. I will do better.

I will be better.

Please spare me.

Please watch me as I evolve into a being greater than prophesied at my birth.

Tonight is the beginning. I will enter that arena, and I will stare down Brandon, and I will make him fear Gael. Brandon, I don't know much about you, but you're the one they lay before me. You're the one they chose, and I can only imagine your disappointment when you say that you would be pit against a broken man. Well, I'm sorry. You won't be able to hurt me anymore than I already have been. It's a matter of tolerance.

We all have our demons, Brandon, and you've already seen mine...I AM mine! Papa, they don't know! Or even worse, they don't care. But that's okay...it's okay....its okay...I only have to keep myself safe. I only have to...

The sentence trails off there as something in the corner of his catch grabs his attention. The Black Gael, after staring for a few seconds, shakes his head and takes a long pull from the flask.

Brandon, be careful.

by DullChameleon Mon Oct 30, 2017 12:45 pm

Good stuff my man

by **krzy** Mon Oct 30, 2017 1:22 pm

by DynamicWrestler Mon Oct 30, 2017 2:03 pm

Another great promo, keep it up boro.

by **krzy** Mon Nov 06, 2017 4:32 pm

The Black Gael sits alone in the locker room, one two, three empty bottles surrounding him, his words vaguely slurred, his eyes more red than white.

Papa!

Did you see? Did you see?

Papa...do you even care?

You've done this to me. You've made those questions hound me and haunt me.

Why won't they let me sleep? I tried counting sheep. I tried counting backwards from one hundred. If tried to count my flaws but it never worked! Only one thing ever helped, but it numbed everything else in the process. You told me the stories of Gael, warned me to be careful, but you were a hypocrite. You were the bad man, weren't you? That's what ma always said anyway until you made her....go away.

It's okay, papa. Because I did. I fought and I won. I won and I felt alive. I felt alive and I celebrated. I celebrated and I don't know how I got back here. It's a cycle that I can't beat. A cycle that being in CMV only parallels. I fight and I drink. I drink and I fight. It's consistency. It's a new normal. As long as I wear the paint Gael cannot punish me for my transgressions. When we finally meet I will bow down. I will kneel and I will apologize and beg forgiveness. But I'm not brave enough yet. And I don't know how to get there.

You never had answers for the questions I had, papa, and now I know nothing. Now I am nothing but a vessel for pain and agony and regret and heartbreak that refuses to do one good thing and just. stop. breathing. Until then I've been forced to carry on. Each step gets harder, but if I stand still too long, Gael may catch up.

And so I run and and I dive headfirst into the next conflict. Will you watch and see, papa? I get another chance tonight. Me and Brandon locked in a battle for the right to survive once again. They say he's special, papa. A champion. The gold glitters and whispers my name. I hear it. It wants to be with me. I tell it soon. I tell it Brandon is a broken man that doesn't deserve her. It will know true love soon enough.

The Black Gael continues to speak but his words become unintelligible. He takes a long pull from his flask followed by a deep breath. His next words come out in a barely audible whisper.

Brandon, be careful.

by **Mr. Dashing** Mon Nov 06, 2017 9:21 pm

Super interested as to why he calls all of his opponents Brandon and I hope to find out soon, very intruiging story that you're building around this chatacter.

by **krzy** Tue Nov 14, 2017 4:50 pm

The Black Gael sits crossed legged in the middle of the hallway, rocking back and forth as he grips a metal flask tightly in one hand, the other cradling the back of his neck. Coming off of a thrilling victory over then Rising Star Champion Miles Kelly, a match where the springboard forearm he calls Blackout wasn't able to get the job done forcing him to use the devastating ~~reverse~~ package powerbomb Sobering Ride Down the Stormy Whiskey River to keep his foe down for the three count.

It was a victory that came at a cost.

Gael's words come out in a hurried, hoarse whisper.

Everything...

It's all gone...

Papa, I gave everything to stand victorious and this drink refuses to be the glue that keeps the pieces together. All it does is make the pain go away for a little while. But tonight I need the pain!

I need the reminder.

I need to remember all that I lost to win.

When my body cried out no more...when my muscles started to stiffen...when my joints refused to bend...when my brain started to fog...

When it looked like I would meet my demise, Gael pulled me from the jaws of defeat, and told me to use it...the weapon that I swore I'd only wield in desperate times because I'd hurt myself just as much as the other man.

But I had to. The gold, papa, it shone and it spoke and it called my name. I need it. It needs me. We'll be complete once we have each other.

Time is all I need. But time is a luxury I can't afford. I spent all I had on a vice that threatens to destroy me if I walk away.

Destruction awaits either way.

Tonight I will pay for my transgressions.

Last week I gave everything to make victory mine, and tonight I have no more blood to bleed.

I know Brandon, conniving and malicious, awaits to feed on the scraps that remain.

May he have mercy.

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