Post by Donzig on Aug 9, 2021 19:06:45 GMT -5
Inside the same empty decaying room as always, Donzigs sits in his battered antique wingback chair. His fingers drum against the cracked leather of the arms, and he tilts his masked head with a hiss. Sinclair stands slightly behind him, a book in her hands as she reads absently. Donzig grabs the arms of the chair, leaning forward as he growls. 'My time here will be brief, I have several items I have found in this house that need to be returned to a certain old antique store. They may or may not be cursed.'
Sinclair pauses in her reading, and arches a brow. Donzig waves a hand, snorting. 'It is not my fault, Lewis Vendredi broke his deal with the devil to sell cursed antiques.'
Sinclair stares, mouthing that over again before shrugging as she leaned on the chair. 'Vendredi? Doesn't that mean friday in french?'
'Oui.'
Sinclair looks clearly confused, and Donzig shrugs before he leans back in the chair once more. He taps his fingers against the arm of his chair, shrugging before he speaks again. 'The speculated origins of Friday the Thirteenth as well as that of the number 13 being unlucky can be traced back to Norse mythology. You see there were 12 gods having a dinner in Valhalla, Loki arrived uninvited and made it thirteen. He then arranged for the blind god Hoder to kill Baldur, and the entire earth was plunged into darkness.'
Donzig paused, and he tilted his head. 'Speaking of uninvited guests and plunging the word into darkness, Steve Awesome invited himself to the ring because of that other univited guest Freakke to ruin my title match! They were as bad as Hoder and Loki! And the world is paying for it now! So it is fitting, very fitting on Friday the 13th that I will have my vengeance on them!'
Sinclair nodded, and then arched a brow. 'So are you Balder? Or is that D?'
Donzig waved off her comments, and shook his head as he fell silent. Then he continued, fingers raking and picking at the crumbling leather of the chair. 'On Friday the 13th, 1309! The King of France, Phillip the Fourth began the prosecution of the Knights Templar! In league with the Pope, and his counselors to steal the wealth of the Templars! To avoid paying what he owed!'
A fist slammed down, and Donzig leaned forward as his fingers twisted into a claw before him. 'Just like Gus Arnold steals from us! Just like Gus Arnold persecutes us! Just like Gus Arnold refuses to give us our due! Well, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar laid a curse on Phillip, eh? And so I shall be a curse on Gus and that pretender, D! Until I get what I am owed!'
Donzig lifted a hand, drawing a deep breath as he leaned back again in the chair. He reached up, adjusting his mask before he spoke once more.
'At Camp Crystal Lake, a boy named Jason Vorhees drowned. Now his camp counselors could have saved him, they could have done something! But instead of saving Jason? They were off indulging in depravity, and debauchery, and wallowing in their own decadence!' Donzig snapped, and Sinclair was staring again. He rose to his feet, starting to pace angrily as his hand waved towards the camera. Nodding to himself as he continued. 'And so the lake was cursed, and Jason's mother murdered the camp counselors to stop the camp from re-opening! And frankly?'
Donzig pauses.
'Who can blame her for being angry at some corporate entity that destroyed her family by negligence, eh? Who can blame her for saying never again! By the way, you know who else likes to wallow in depravity? You know who else loves debauchery? Steve Awesome! There I said it! So Steve wallows in his own decadence, eh? And Camp Crystal Lake? That's NPW for the thick people in the back? They indulge him! They let him go! Like it doesn't matter!'
Donzig glares at the camera, and hisses. 'Gus Arnold let's it happen! He doesn't care who is drowning in his lake, oh no! No! No! No!'
Sinclair was staring at this point, and she lifted a hand slowly. 'Um, I thought the killer was Jason?'
'Ah, a common mistake. Jason only became the killer in the second film, and didn't gain his famous hockey mask until the third.' stated Donzig with a vague wave of his hand, and Sinclair blinked at him.
'How many of these films are there? Like did you watch them all?' Sinclair gaped, clearly mystified.
Donzig jerked his head in a quick nod, shrugging. 'If you count the Nightmare on Elm Street crossover and the reboot? 12.'
'Twelve?' Sinclair was stunned, clearly not believing this. Donzig grunted, and waved a hand at her dismissively before he resumed his pacing.
'Where was I? Oh, yes!' Donzig snaps his fingers. 'I! I am here to protect Camp Crystal Lake from people like Steve Awesome! From people like Freakke, who I assure you is just as bad as Steve! Oh, he is not depraved and wallowing in debauchery? But he is certainly basking in bad comedy, the delusion he is funny! Rather like Friday the Thirteenth Part VIII: Jason takes Manhattan!'
'Hold on, hold on.' Sinclair gapes, clearly bewildered by this American madness. 'Manhattan? How did he get from the camp to New York City?'
'Well, after he was killed in Part VII an underwater electric cable resurrected him. He followed that line for a time before he boarded a ship on a senior cruise to New York where he set about murdering the students.' Donzig said, stating it rather matter of factly. Sinclair was staring back at him, clearly befuddled before she gave a hopeless shrug.
'Okay, I have to know. How did they beat him in Manhattan?'
'Ah, he was dissolved by toxic waste in the sewers.' Donzig lifted a finger.
'What?' Sinclair gaped, and Donzig nodded before she threw up her hands before stalking from the room. 'How American!'
Donzig watched her go, sniffing before he shrugged. He dropped back into his chair, reclaiming her book before he opened it with a shrug. 'I didn't even get to tell her how he became a cyborg.'
Sinclair pauses in her reading, and arches a brow. Donzig waves a hand, snorting. 'It is not my fault, Lewis Vendredi broke his deal with the devil to sell cursed antiques.'
Sinclair stares, mouthing that over again before shrugging as she leaned on the chair. 'Vendredi? Doesn't that mean friday in french?'
'Oui.'
Sinclair looks clearly confused, and Donzig shrugs before he leans back in the chair once more. He taps his fingers against the arm of his chair, shrugging before he speaks again. 'The speculated origins of Friday the Thirteenth as well as that of the number 13 being unlucky can be traced back to Norse mythology. You see there were 12 gods having a dinner in Valhalla, Loki arrived uninvited and made it thirteen. He then arranged for the blind god Hoder to kill Baldur, and the entire earth was plunged into darkness.'
Donzig paused, and he tilted his head. 'Speaking of uninvited guests and plunging the word into darkness, Steve Awesome invited himself to the ring because of that other univited guest Freakke to ruin my title match! They were as bad as Hoder and Loki! And the world is paying for it now! So it is fitting, very fitting on Friday the 13th that I will have my vengeance on them!'
Sinclair nodded, and then arched a brow. 'So are you Balder? Or is that D?'
Donzig waved off her comments, and shook his head as he fell silent. Then he continued, fingers raking and picking at the crumbling leather of the chair. 'On Friday the 13th, 1309! The King of France, Phillip the Fourth began the prosecution of the Knights Templar! In league with the Pope, and his counselors to steal the wealth of the Templars! To avoid paying what he owed!'
A fist slammed down, and Donzig leaned forward as his fingers twisted into a claw before him. 'Just like Gus Arnold steals from us! Just like Gus Arnold persecutes us! Just like Gus Arnold refuses to give us our due! Well, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar laid a curse on Phillip, eh? And so I shall be a curse on Gus and that pretender, D! Until I get what I am owed!'
Donzig lifted a hand, drawing a deep breath as he leaned back again in the chair. He reached up, adjusting his mask before he spoke once more.
'At Camp Crystal Lake, a boy named Jason Vorhees drowned. Now his camp counselors could have saved him, they could have done something! But instead of saving Jason? They were off indulging in depravity, and debauchery, and wallowing in their own decadence!' Donzig snapped, and Sinclair was staring again. He rose to his feet, starting to pace angrily as his hand waved towards the camera. Nodding to himself as he continued. 'And so the lake was cursed, and Jason's mother murdered the camp counselors to stop the camp from re-opening! And frankly?'
Donzig pauses.
'Who can blame her for being angry at some corporate entity that destroyed her family by negligence, eh? Who can blame her for saying never again! By the way, you know who else likes to wallow in depravity? You know who else loves debauchery? Steve Awesome! There I said it! So Steve wallows in his own decadence, eh? And Camp Crystal Lake? That's NPW for the thick people in the back? They indulge him! They let him go! Like it doesn't matter!'
Donzig glares at the camera, and hisses. 'Gus Arnold let's it happen! He doesn't care who is drowning in his lake, oh no! No! No! No!'
Sinclair was staring at this point, and she lifted a hand slowly. 'Um, I thought the killer was Jason?'
'Ah, a common mistake. Jason only became the killer in the second film, and didn't gain his famous hockey mask until the third.' stated Donzig with a vague wave of his hand, and Sinclair blinked at him.
'How many of these films are there? Like did you watch them all?' Sinclair gaped, clearly mystified.
Donzig jerked his head in a quick nod, shrugging. 'If you count the Nightmare on Elm Street crossover and the reboot? 12.'
'Twelve?' Sinclair was stunned, clearly not believing this. Donzig grunted, and waved a hand at her dismissively before he resumed his pacing.
'Where was I? Oh, yes!' Donzig snaps his fingers. 'I! I am here to protect Camp Crystal Lake from people like Steve Awesome! From people like Freakke, who I assure you is just as bad as Steve! Oh, he is not depraved and wallowing in debauchery? But he is certainly basking in bad comedy, the delusion he is funny! Rather like Friday the Thirteenth Part VIII: Jason takes Manhattan!'
'Hold on, hold on.' Sinclair gapes, clearly bewildered by this American madness. 'Manhattan? How did he get from the camp to New York City?'
'Well, after he was killed in Part VII an underwater electric cable resurrected him. He followed that line for a time before he boarded a ship on a senior cruise to New York where he set about murdering the students.' Donzig said, stating it rather matter of factly. Sinclair was staring back at him, clearly befuddled before she gave a hopeless shrug.
'Okay, I have to know. How did they beat him in Manhattan?'
'Ah, he was dissolved by toxic waste in the sewers.' Donzig lifted a finger.
'What?' Sinclair gaped, and Donzig nodded before she threw up her hands before stalking from the room. 'How American!'
Donzig watched her go, sniffing before he shrugged. He dropped back into his chair, reclaiming her book before he opened it with a shrug. 'I didn't even get to tell her how he became a cyborg.'
