Post by Deleted on Aug 18, 2021 9:07:12 GMT -5
“Kingdom Pro. Project Honor. Next Level Wrestling; it truly does not matter what banner I’m under on any given night - the end goal is always the same for me and my family. ....”
Static intro abruptly cuts to black screen with only Lazarus Arjen’s voice coming through to start.
Afterward, we slowly fade in to see Lazarus sitting - flanked by three members of his ‘family’ as he calls them; Charon Seede, Euan Hill and Aurora Ray. The rest of the Killjoy clan was somewhere in Europe where they’re needed for the time being.
New Orleans, Louisiana would be the backdrop behind the foursome. They were all located on an elevated balcony of some building that overlooked Bourbon Street. Lazarus and Charon know this street well from their youth - not only the debauchery that they would get into, but the brutality that would ensue below them on more than one occasion. Aurora had her back to the camera as she leaned over the railing watching the people below, Euan’s massive presence stood statuesque behind Lazarus and Charon leaned against the wall casually drinking his beer.
“Violence.”
“Pure violence, nothing more and nothing less.”
“You know all about that don’t you, Graham? You have a reputation for being a big, nasty motherfucker who uses brute strength and violence to mercilessly beat opponents. That is - when you care enough to put more than ten percent of yourself into something. But you don’t care. You didn’t care enough to actually try at Eve of Champions which was why you let David Goon get the better of you; it’s a blessing that I was there to cave his head in wasn’t it? Better your championship go to me than him. When you care to show, though, you’re next to untouchable - but that is rare. I’ve already exposed you, Graham. Exposed you as the man who cares too much about meaningless, throwaway accomplishments. Quantity over quality in your case - the more championships, the more accolades, the better you feel about yourself - am I right? The more companies you join, the more your name is out there - the more you feel your legacy grows. However, all that seems to grow is the story of the massive let down you have become. Long gone are the days of the Gaijin Kaiju that terrorized Japan. Long gone are the days of the Guillotine who was revered anytime his name was whispered. All that’s left is a shell of what once was. At Collision Course, I will violently stomp that shell - shattering it into a million pieces. That is what will be left of you when I’m finished, Graham. However, should you decide to show, I beg you - bring the suffering. Bring strength, violence and pain. I promise you, I can take all that you bring - and dish out even more.”
Lazarus shifted his body just slightly - but that cold, dead stare remained locked on the camera. He snarled, continuing.
“It’s a common trope to say you’ve gone through hell; but you don’t know hell. Hell is being the literal whipping boy of your abusive father figure who would take the frustrations of the day out on a frail, pre-teen child. Hell was sleeping underneath barred up windows, fearing that night would be the night you caught a stray bullet through the siding of your house. Hell was watching your mother standing on the corner, turning tricks, just so she could score the next rock to liquify and shoot into her veins. If you want to talk of Hell; I’ve been there. I’ve seen the devil, looked deep into his eyes and came out the other side victorious. I was built from all of the violent tendencies of man and flourished in the underbelly of society. I was built for war, built to deal out pain and punishment to all that I see fit; and Adam Sanders fits the bill.”
“Shouting alone in an empty warehouse, explaining the backstory of your handed opportunity; it means less than shit to me. I’ve dragged world champions to the dirt and stabbed them in the face with syringe needles, I’ve caved skulls in with lead pipes, driven members of the opposite sex into ring aprons from the top rope with drivers. Do you honestly think I give a single shit about you, your history in XHF or your life? Adam; I don’t value my own life - how am I supposed to care for yours? What you’ve done makes no difference to me, all that matters is you stand in front of me with a sense of entitlement; the same aurora surrounds you like it did all of those people we grew up fighting. That alone is enough for me to want to carve your neck up until you become a walking PEZ Dispenser. Violently, I’m going to remind you that I’m not like the guys you beat before; I will bury you.”
Everyone turned to stand behind Lazarus now.
“Violence took everything from me, leaving me on the edge of death. Violence is what re-created me and violence is what I bring every time I lace up a pair of fucking boots. Violence is what I have to offer you both at Collision Course.”
“Do you think I’m concerned with wins and losses? Do you think I’m concerned with a fucking championship? My goal is nothing more than to hold your body, listening to your last breath draw from your lungs while blood pools underneath your beaten, battered and sliced up body.”
“And after the breathing has stopped - after it’s all said and done - all that is left is to pen a letter to your families …”
Abrupt cut to static ...
Static intro abruptly cuts to black screen with only Lazarus Arjen’s voice coming through to start.
Afterward, we slowly fade in to see Lazarus sitting - flanked by three members of his ‘family’ as he calls them; Charon Seede, Euan Hill and Aurora Ray. The rest of the Killjoy clan was somewhere in Europe where they’re needed for the time being.
New Orleans, Louisiana would be the backdrop behind the foursome. They were all located on an elevated balcony of some building that overlooked Bourbon Street. Lazarus and Charon know this street well from their youth - not only the debauchery that they would get into, but the brutality that would ensue below them on more than one occasion. Aurora had her back to the camera as she leaned over the railing watching the people below, Euan’s massive presence stood statuesque behind Lazarus and Charon leaned against the wall casually drinking his beer.
“Violence.”
“Pure violence, nothing more and nothing less.”
“You know all about that don’t you, Graham? You have a reputation for being a big, nasty motherfucker who uses brute strength and violence to mercilessly beat opponents. That is - when you care enough to put more than ten percent of yourself into something. But you don’t care. You didn’t care enough to actually try at Eve of Champions which was why you let David Goon get the better of you; it’s a blessing that I was there to cave his head in wasn’t it? Better your championship go to me than him. When you care to show, though, you’re next to untouchable - but that is rare. I’ve already exposed you, Graham. Exposed you as the man who cares too much about meaningless, throwaway accomplishments. Quantity over quality in your case - the more championships, the more accolades, the better you feel about yourself - am I right? The more companies you join, the more your name is out there - the more you feel your legacy grows. However, all that seems to grow is the story of the massive let down you have become. Long gone are the days of the Gaijin Kaiju that terrorized Japan. Long gone are the days of the Guillotine who was revered anytime his name was whispered. All that’s left is a shell of what once was. At Collision Course, I will violently stomp that shell - shattering it into a million pieces. That is what will be left of you when I’m finished, Graham. However, should you decide to show, I beg you - bring the suffering. Bring strength, violence and pain. I promise you, I can take all that you bring - and dish out even more.”
Lazarus shifted his body just slightly - but that cold, dead stare remained locked on the camera. He snarled, continuing.
“It’s a common trope to say you’ve gone through hell; but you don’t know hell. Hell is being the literal whipping boy of your abusive father figure who would take the frustrations of the day out on a frail, pre-teen child. Hell was sleeping underneath barred up windows, fearing that night would be the night you caught a stray bullet through the siding of your house. Hell was watching your mother standing on the corner, turning tricks, just so she could score the next rock to liquify and shoot into her veins. If you want to talk of Hell; I’ve been there. I’ve seen the devil, looked deep into his eyes and came out the other side victorious. I was built from all of the violent tendencies of man and flourished in the underbelly of society. I was built for war, built to deal out pain and punishment to all that I see fit; and Adam Sanders fits the bill.”
“Shouting alone in an empty warehouse, explaining the backstory of your handed opportunity; it means less than shit to me. I’ve dragged world champions to the dirt and stabbed them in the face with syringe needles, I’ve caved skulls in with lead pipes, driven members of the opposite sex into ring aprons from the top rope with drivers. Do you honestly think I give a single shit about you, your history in XHF or your life? Adam; I don’t value my own life - how am I supposed to care for yours? What you’ve done makes no difference to me, all that matters is you stand in front of me with a sense of entitlement; the same aurora surrounds you like it did all of those people we grew up fighting. That alone is enough for me to want to carve your neck up until you become a walking PEZ Dispenser. Violently, I’m going to remind you that I’m not like the guys you beat before; I will bury you.”
Everyone turned to stand behind Lazarus now.
“Violence took everything from me, leaving me on the edge of death. Violence is what re-created me and violence is what I bring every time I lace up a pair of fucking boots. Violence is what I have to offer you both at Collision Course.”
“Do you think I’m concerned with wins and losses? Do you think I’m concerned with a fucking championship? My goal is nothing more than to hold your body, listening to your last breath draw from your lungs while blood pools underneath your beaten, battered and sliced up body.”
“And after the breathing has stopped - after it’s all said and done - all that is left is to pen a letter to your families …”
“I’m sorry for your loss but it had to be this way. You can try to kill me, but it won’t do a damn thing. Humanity died in me a long time ago..”
Abrupt cut to static ...