Re: The Black Gael

by **krzy** Mon Nov 20, 2017 9:21 am

Black Gael, freshly returned to Reality Wrestling after an unsuccessful outing on Genesis, has palms pressed against a locker, back turned to the camera.

Papa forgive me!

It was all too new!

The lights! The sounds! The smells!

I forgot who I was. And I don't know how I got there. Everything I am. Everything I should be.

All out of the window.

I tried to imitate. I tried to be myself. Everything failed.

I was so scared.

I am so ashamed.

And here...right here in my lowest moments I crave release from the demons. I pray for relief for the mental anguished as they weigh on me like a million cinder blocks. I almost want to wipe this paint off.

I would down my last bottle of whiskey as the sun watches in disapproval and dare Gael to try and take me away once and for all.

But you told me, Papa. It was all in the stories. You said how those who met Gael either never returned or never was the same. I'm not special. I would be no different.

I'm too scared to cross that line.

All I can do now is press forward because all that lies behind is the dark past that I can shake. But I look forward, and I see Brandon waiting tonight.

Waiting to make a feast out of the scraps.

And if I stand still I'll never find a normal that isn't this.

So I have to fight.

I have to fight because I must survive.

Survival means that I'll find redemption while I draw breath.

I'll do what I can, papa...what I have to.

Even if Brandon suffers.

by **krzy** Thu Dec 07, 2017 7:49 pm

The Black Gael can be found backstage on his knees breathing heavily, palms of both hands planted firmly on the ground as though desperately trying to prevent himself from falling through it. Gael is drenched in sweat to the point that it has soaked through his headgear, odd because as cliché as the saying may be, he just about that match against Johnny Vegas without breaking a sweat.

Gael roughly pushes himself off the ground positioning himself so that he's sitting on his heels. His chest rises and falls erratically with each jagged breath that he has to force through his lungs. His eyes are red, wet streaks visible on his cheeks, only one boot on.

The only thing that's in tact is the body paint.

Gael gasps as air hitches in his throat. With a shaky right hand he pulls a bottle off the ground and takes a long pull from it before tossing it to join its siblings, the poisonous sextuplets. the liquid does nothing to soothe Gael's nerves. If anything, it bothers him more. His gasps are more audible and he behinds rocking back and forth while still kneeling.

He loses his balance and falls forward coming back to the position he was in minutes ago, hands pressed against the ground, straining to keep his head from colliding with the concrete or one of the glass bottles that lies on it. Gael clenches his right fist and punches the floor just hard enough for the pain to get his adrenaline going in the same way you'd jump start a car's dead battery.

In the blink of an eye, Gael pops up to his feet and looks around at the hallway. Empty. He's alone. He's always been alone. He starts pacing back and forth, jaw tight, curled fingers attached to rigid arms. But the burst of energy doesn't last. He stumbles toward the wall and drops to a knee pressing a hand against the wall.

Papa, they tried to change.

They.....they tried to break me...

No rules, they said. They told me that I could do anything. Buts that's not fair, Papa. I need rules. I need them. I was so worried that I wouldn't be the same; now I'm scared that I'll never change. Weapons were there for me to use, but I couldn't. The only other weapon that I've ever wielded carries the toxins that poison me everyday.

I didn't want to hurt another man, papa, not Brandon, but it's so tempting. It could be so easy to let go and break someone until they can't be fixed, then they'll know what it's like to wake up and see this face staring back at how. They'll know how the lies and the pointing, it all hurts.

I am not am animal! Like fighters in the coliseum shedding blood for the entertainment of the masses. I don't deserve that! Why did they try! Papa I just...I just...

If it's so bad today, how much worse will it be tomorrow? How much farther will they try to push? How many more will have to die before they are content? Why does the answer scare me so. I almost...I almost wish Gael would come, take me away so that these thoughts, both real and imagined, will no longer plague me.

Where is he, Papa? In the stories he was omnipresent. He was everywhere. He knew everything. He was always there take away the monsters who didn't adhere to their limits. Where is he Papa? What is he waiting for? I know it's the paint, the paint is what keeps him at bay, but he could at least try. Then at least I'd know he's watching.

I was so stupid. I've past the point of no return because fear won't let me walk backward. Like the ribbon tied around the rebellious neck, I've used the paint to protect me and now it's become a permanent part of me. Sometimes I forget what my real face looks like underneath, and sometimes I feel likes it's best that I never remember.

Gael tries to stand, and it's a struggle, but he manages to make it. Only for a few seconds. He leans his back against the wall, eyes locked to the ground, breaths coming in at a slightly more even pace as if speaking were a form of therapy for him. But he doesn't say another word, only his breathing fills the void left by his silence. He runs both hands

What about tomorrow, Papa?

What angle will they take?

How badly will I be punished for not breaking their rules?

Why does they feed off violence? Why do they thirst for blood?

Why does a part of me look forward to the next time? I'm so afraid that I'll like it.

Tonight I fought back, I wanted Brandon to live another day, but I won't have that kind of strength forever.

I've spent too much energy quieting the singing of the gold as it calls to me. It promises to make me whole, and I want to believe so bad that it would never lie. My very first match here I got a taste, I saw what it could do. I saw how the gold shines and changes the way people look at you. I think it could fix me, but I need to get closer so that I know for sure. I have to try. I have to try. I have to, I have no other choice. I will go through Brandon if I have to.

Do they not trust me?

Are they afraid of me?

He lets the question linger in the air and silence fills the halls once again. With his back still against the wall, he begins sliding down until he's sitting on the ground. His voice cracked as he asked it, and he can't find it in himself to continue. He buries his face into his hands and sighs deeply.

Are they ashamed of me?

The screen fades to black as Gael reaches for his flask.

by **krzy** Mon Jan 22, 2018 3:13 pm

A situation has unfolded backstage on Fusion.

It's causing a grand ol' confusion, as wrestlers, staff and the odd straggler rusg over to see what all the hubbub is about.

And, boy, is it a doozy.

The Black Gael has wandered over to Fusion, on his hands and knees in the middle of the hallway completely hysterical, beyond the point of being reasoned with and calmed down. He's still in his ring attires from the pay per view, his eyes red, tears smudging his face paint, his chest reddened from him seemingly aggressively rubbing away the body paint that was once there.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready.

He repeats it over and over and over again as though it were a mantra, or part of some kind of ritual or a prayer that's fallen on deaf ears as he continues to repeat it despite his voice fading from the strain. He pushes himself up until he is only on his knees. He reaches for the empty bottle of beer he must have brought into the building with him, holding onto it like a child might a blanket, as if searching for comfort.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready for the disappointment. I was a afraid, Papa! What if the gold didn't save me? What if there's nothing that can save me? What if there's nothing that makes the pain go away? Brandon save me.

He growls, a guttural, almost animalistic sound that causes the bystanders to take a step back, and they weren't even standing that close to him to begin with. Gael breathes in and out, but if that's supposed to be a tactic to calm himself that it isn't working.

Maybe it's not the pain that needs to go. Maybe it's me.

Gael take me. Papa told me that these words would summon you.

He begins whispering a poem.

As poison flows through my veins
Revealing all hidden by the veil
An admission nothing of value remains
I call...

Gael shakes his head.

No!

He crushes the bottle in his hands, pressing glass deep into his palm, he doesn't cry out. He doesn't even flinch. He uses his now bloody palm to draw a "G" on himself then sighs as if relived.

As if safe.

Not now.

Not yet.

He forces himself off the ground and begins to walk away, the crowd parting to give him room.

by **krzy** Fri Feb 02, 2018 12:57 pm

The Black Gael is spotted in a hallway backstage, face covered in paint, a "G" hasitly drawn on his chest, hopefully not in blood this time around. He's pacing back and forth, and who knows how long he's been like this?

Who knows where he's been all this time?

Who knows if he'll ever be close to okay?

Papa!

They mock me.

I said I wasn't ready.

I said I was scared that the gold wouldn't make me whole, but I find myself right back where I started no matter how far and how fast I tried to run.

And now I have nowhere left to run. I have nowhere left to hide. They've found me again and they vowed to punish me for my transgressions.

They see me barely staying afloat and so they take my head and push me under until I stop struggling.

But I can't, Papa.

I can't stop struggling.

I can't stop living...even though sometimes that's all I ever want. No matter how much I try to numb to pain it always comes back worse than it was before. The doubts cripple me, the voices paralyze me and sometimes I don't know how I ever manage to take the next step.

Yet I do.

And then before I know it, I'm walking.

Then I'm running.

Then I take to the skies and before I know it: I'm free.

But it never lasts long enough. When I black out and I'm blessed by purgatory, Brandon is never there when I wake up.

He mocks me.

He hates me.

He watches me suffer from a distance, and he never offers a helping hand.

Just like you, Papa.

Just like...EVERYONE!

THEY ALL STARE!

THEY POINT!

THEY LAUGH!

THEY JUDGE!

they think they're safe, and that's not fair.

IT'S NOT RIGHT!

WHY AM I CHOSEN TO SUFFER?

WHY AM I THE ONE DESTINED TO DROWN?

WHY

WHY

WHY

why.....

I see Brandon in every one I look at, and this one calls himself a demon.

But I believe in monsters.

And Gael is the only monster I fear.

He touches the G on his chest with trembling fingers.

But I'm safe...we're all safe from him...for now.

by Batman Fri Feb 02, 2018 3:48 pm

You've made it. 100/10.

by **krzy** Fri Feb 02, 2018 4:45 pm

Thanks! Means a lot coming from you

by **krzy** Sun Feb 04, 2018 4:41 pm

An interviewer, tasked with getting Gael’s thoughts about his big title win, shows up to the scene that words cannot describe.

Let’s try it anyway.

Gael is on his knees, cradling the CMV Rising Star Championship in his arms--the title he was so scared to win he got himself counted out in his match against Matseo Yume, but had to stand his ground after RGP claimed there was a being more dangerous than Gael.

And so the Black Gael rocks back and forth, eyes staring, unblinking at the Rising Star Championship, screaming at the top of his lungs--yelling at the championship.

HEAL ME!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

SAVE ME!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
help me...

The last plea comes out in a whimper. Tears stream down his face, smudging his face paint.

He begins mumbling incomprehisble things, his voice sharply changing from a whisper to a scream back to a whisper then to a scream, and so forth, without any forewarning.

Finally, he’s swarmed by medical staff and security. They pull Gael down the hallway, and he’s so spent, both physically from the match and emotionally by this tirade that he doesn’t put up a fight as he’s taken away from the building…

...and his championship.

by **Solaris Arc** Sun Feb 04, 2018 4:42 pm

this man high as a kite rn

by **krzy** Sun Feb 04, 2018 4:50 pm

whoa there, buddy!
gael's an alcoholic, a vice that he's been struggling with and unfortunately the temptations are always too much for him
he doesn't do any other drug, though, so he wouldn't be high
i hope that clears up some misconceptions!

by Batman Sun Feb 04, 2018 6:22 pm

Good shit, good match. I heard rumors that RGP plans on retaliation after he finishes up with Skarsgaurd at Cyberslam. Just rumors tho, i'm not sure if they are true or not.

by **krzy** Tue Feb 13, 2018 11:34 am

Seconds after Reality Wrestling goes on the air, Johnny Sampson appears on the titantron.

Ladies and gentlemen, as you may have noticed, The Black Gael, real name Brandon Rayne, hasn't been on any of CMV's weekly programming this week. I meant to make an announcement on Fusion, but I've been so caught up in feuding with Schmidty for the second straight season because apparently my world revolves around him and his nonsense at the expense of you know doing my job and seeing to the well being of other wrestlers on my show cause two seasons worth of drama with the same character isn't getting stale at all haha no really guys I'm truly enjoying every second of it please kill me

Sampson clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

I digress, I'm here to announce that Black Gael's title defense for tonight has been canceled. He came to Fusion, to me, seeking solace, desperate for a brief reprieve from his troubles and I haven't been able to give him the attention I deserve because I'm wrapped up in my own petty quest for revenge. It wasn't until he finally snapped, broke down after what should have been a joyous occasion in winning his first ever championship in CMV, that I realized I've been an awful General Manager.

But it was at that moment that I intervened in Gael's life and sent him off to rehab so that he can be treated for his one and ONLY vice, Sol, alcoholism. I booked him in a match on Fusion cause I'm dumb and thought his illness, something that plagued him for God knows how long, could be cured overnight. I realized the errors of my ways tonight, and I don't see the justice in punishing Gael for my failure and for receiving the help he desperately needed.

With that said, the show must go on and the Rising Star Championship must be defended. As much as it pains me to say it, if Gael isn't well enough by Cyberslam, the title match will still proceed as planned...we'll just be guaranteed a new champion.

by Batman Tue Feb 13, 2018 7:24 pm

Was excited to read this promo. You let me down. Cry in private.

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