Posted at 7:07 pm on Jun 10, 2007 by:
Red Spyder
You’d think a post like this wouldn’t have any killing in it.
Red quickly collected the only bag that he brought with him that night from his locker room, a duffel bag that had contained his wrestling gear and now had the clothes that he wore to the arena, and left through a back entrance to the parking lot where his car was located. He didn’t feel like changing clothes again.
He was still bleeding from some of his injuries sustained during his fight against Creeper. Most of the minor ones had already completely healed and he could’ve focused his electrical energy to heal the rest of them, but he didn’t bother with it at the moment. The match was good, but it could’ve been better. He wasn’t at his best during it. Creeper was a better opponent than Red had expected. Red had underestimated the Unholy Monster and…
He didn’t want to think about the match anymore. At least he was back in the ring again. Soon, he would be back at the top where he belonged with gold around his waist. CW had a nice roster of superstars, some he was familiar with and some he wasn’t. He was confident enough that he could crush all of them eventually though, as he’d promised before his arrival.
Reaching his car, he took out his keys and opened the trunk to put the bag in it before going around to the driver’s door. He unlocked it and began to open it when he sensed someone coming up behind him. He spun, expecting anyone and anything, to find that it was just some guy who was barely twenty years old. The guy approached Red, slowing to a stop a few feet away from him. He was silent for a moment, just staring at Red.
“Uh…hey, you’re Red Spyder, right? Can I have your autograph?”
Red sighed. He didn’t want to sign any autographs. He wanted to snap the guy’s neck with his bare hands and continue on his way. He nodded though. After all, it was just one autograph. What could it hurt? He put his keys back into his pocket as the guy handed him a small piece of paper and pen. He scrawled his named across it, not really caring what it looked like. He was tired and wanted to leave. He handed the pen and paper back to the guy. The guy looked down at the paper and then back up at Red.
“Wait, could you make it out to Cody? I’d really appreciate it.”
Red took the pen and paper back and started to write again, but suddenly stopped. Fuck it. He was going to kill this guy. After all, it was just one fan. What did it matter? No one would know that Red did it. He was too far away from any of the arenas outside security cameras and no other people were around.
Red dropped the piece of paper to the ground before lunging at the guy, driving the pen into the side of his neck before pulling on it so hard that it tore out almost the entire front of his neck. It was a strong pen. It barely even bent. Too bad it was covered in blood now or else Red probably would’ve kept it. The guy fell to his knees, staring at Red again, blood squirting out of his destroyed neck into the air and splashing onto the pavement.
Red tossed the pen aside, hearing it clatter against the ground, and took his keys back out before getting into the car and starting the engine. He peeled out of the parking lot, causing the piece of paper with his autograph on it to blow away, and sped onto the street, leaving the dieing guy and his pen. Even if someone found the guy now, it would be too late to save him. He’d lost too much blood.
Red drove up the nearest onramp for the freeway and turned on the radio. There was a news report about a man shooting several people before getting away on foot and now the police were searching for him. Red switched the radio stations until he found some music that he liked. He was going to his mansion. He weaved his car around traffic, going way over the speed limit, hitting more than 100 mph at times.
Soon, he found himself at home. He hit the brakes, skidding to a stop in front of his mansion’s front doors. He cut the engine, got out of the car, and retrieved his bag from the trunk before heading inside…
