Post by Donzig on Mar 1, 2022 22:08:51 GMT -5
The scene opens to a rather fancy looking resturant, the walls are painted a soft white and draped with white and light gold curtains. A few waiters and servers roam around the background in suits and ties, waiting on guests who look accustomed to the finer things. A grand piano sits in the center of the room, gleaming white as the pianist slowly plays what seems to be the Eagles.
In the corner of that room, however sits a long table that seems draped in shadows. And there sits the assembled might of Donzig-gun, the Lady Sinclair Godfrey clad in a black and red evening gown as she reclines in her chair at the right hand of Donzig. She sips wine delicately, smiling sightly as she watches the room. The Ninth Baroness clearly in her element. On the other hand of Donzig sits Gavin Drake, his suit jacket undone with his tie hanging loose around his neck. He also seemed oddly at home, but clearly as in his element as the Baroness.
A half empty bottle of scotch sits at his elbow, and he leans back in his chair with a shrug. He looked perhaps like he had one too many, and he smirked to himself.
The Oblivion Death Squad sat at either end of the table, not seeming at all to belong here. But they wore black suits, and ate hearily between drinks. The pair of them occasionally commenting to one another in their native tongue. Sinclair would answer them, or Drake would look at them in confusion. But the Death Squad didn't seem to notice or care that Drake couldn't understand them.
At the center of the table sat Donzig himself, and unlike the rest of Donzig-gun he didn't even bother. He wore his same gear as always, draped in that long black leather coat with his mask over his face. He stared at nothing, the food before him untouched as was the wine at his hand. He didn't speak to anyone, but his voice rasped out slightly off key.
'Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, But you only want the ones that you can't get...
A pause, and he lifted his masked face as he hissed.
Desperado. Oh, you ain't getting no younger;
Your pain and your hunger, They're driving you home...
The rest of the group paused, and Donzig shook his head before he lifted a hand to drag his wrist across the mouth of the mask. Then he lifted his wine, though he didn't drink it as he swirled it absently. A shrug of leather clad shoulders, and he stared at a few patrons who looked too long at the table before they quickly looked away.
'Edward Zepp. It has been a minute, and you see after awhile everyone seems to blur together to me. Like faces in the rain, you see in the darkness of the Void we all look the same to these eyes, eh? But I remember you from your brief time in Canada, you followed that piece of shit Parsons around like a dog.'
Donzig tilted his head, and he sat the wine glass down before he let his fingers drum against the table. And every eye in Donzig-gun watched that tapping finger, and then Donzig growled again. A pause, and a shrug. 'I like dogs, I daresay I love dogs. Dogs are not like people, dogs are loyal.'
His gaze swept across his minions, pausing on each one in turn as he mused.
Sinclair Godfrey.
Gavin Drake.
Mormo.
Moloch.
'I value loyalty. And you know that a dog will stay loyal, even if you mistreat it, even if you abuse it's trust, even if all you do is inflict misery on the poor beast. A dog will still wag it's tail as it's master, it will still greet that master with love. It will defend that master to the end.'
Donzig's hand lifted, and fell.
'Until one day? It doesn't. I have been a dog, Edward. And my former masters learned how much I would take.'
Gavin Drake smirked at that, lifting his glass in salute before he hammered back another drink. He slammed the glass down, and poured another one as he laughed. 'Ah, to absent friends.'
Donzig grunted, lifting the wine glass as the rest of them followed suit. Then he continued, the wine still untouched as he leaned back in the chair.
'Edward, I am sure you're a fine wrestler. I am sure, you're a good hand.' Sinclair snorted at that, hiding a smile behind her hand as Donzig glanced at her. Then he continued with a shrug of leather clad shoulders. 'But you see Edward? I normally don't get too excited about gold, about titles, you see far too often I have seen men who would have been great champions stand there with nothing. I have seen champions not worth shit, not worth a damned thing walk around draped in gold. I have seen men go down in the dirt struggling for a final taste of that meaningless gold.'
Donzig hissed, a hand lifting to brush across his mask before he let it fall to the table.
'I may have done it myself once or twice.'
Drake smirked again, sipping at his scotch as the restaurant continued it's business around them.
'But you see, Edward. This is a game of perception, a game of appearance, of what people expect. And so sadly, to teach them the error of their ways? It seems that I am going to need a title, and what better fucking title then the one that should have been mine in two thousand and twenty one! The SPARK title!'
Other patrons flinched, and the piano hit a wrong note as Donzig's voice rose to an angry shriek. And he lifted a hand, fingers curled near his mask as he took a deep breath. The other members of Donzig-gun stared, Sinclair's face a mask as Drake held his glass near his lips as Donzig took another breath before he shrugged. His fingers dragging across the mask, and he snapped an angry glare at the pianist who started to play again.
Yellow Brick Road.
'You see the sad facts are that if it were not for a certain person who shall remain nameless getting himself pinned? I would have disposed of Vodka Fizz like I did at One Violent Night, and I would have entered the new year as the Spark Champion! But here we are, here the fuck we are.'
Donzig lifted a hand, and he continued.
'You see Edward, you and these others? You're good, you're real good, but I? I am like a God, a dark and angry God.'
That seemed to strike a note to Drake, who blinked before he flashed a smile as his glass lifted once more. 'Amen.'
'And I am coming for what is mine! And the rest I am taking! You see the five of you? Are in my way, and anyone? Anything? That gets in my way? Goes down into the cold and empty dark!' Donzig hissed, and his hand started to fall towards the table in a fist. But he paused, and slowly uncurled his fingers with a shrug. Glancing at the staring Sinclair, before he hissed. 'I am the uncrowned Spark Champion, I have never been pinned in Fireside, I have never been submitted in Fireside! And I have faced off against the best and brightest in the XHF and came out unscathed! So get ready, Edward!'
Donzig waved a hand at the food laden table, and the restaurant beyond.
'You see? To me? Fireside is a feast, and Donzig-gun? It hungers.'
A pause, and then Donzig lifted his hand to splay his fingers across the mask. They tightened slowly, and he pulled the mask off before looking down at it. A nod, and he passed it to Sinclair. She held it reverently, and his fingers slid through his beard before he turned his cold empty gaze to the camera as his face twisted into a scowl.
'Which brings me to this--' Donzig reached inside of his coat, and he produced a single white chess piece. A king and he sat it on the table, and he shook his head. '--I told everyone. Months ago that you couldn't be trusted, that you were playing games. You think I can't see you? But I see you, I have always seen you. I know your kind, and I know how to deal with them. You think we could face each other and I wouldn't know you, eh? You rejected my friendship, you rejected us. And yet we are here now? And you dangle these prizes before us, like we are some common rabble? You think you can break me with pride? That I can't see the trap?'
Donzig reached down, picking up the king to hold it between his fingers. 'No, no, no.'
In the corner of that room, however sits a long table that seems draped in shadows. And there sits the assembled might of Donzig-gun, the Lady Sinclair Godfrey clad in a black and red evening gown as she reclines in her chair at the right hand of Donzig. She sips wine delicately, smiling sightly as she watches the room. The Ninth Baroness clearly in her element. On the other hand of Donzig sits Gavin Drake, his suit jacket undone with his tie hanging loose around his neck. He also seemed oddly at home, but clearly as in his element as the Baroness.
A half empty bottle of scotch sits at his elbow, and he leans back in his chair with a shrug. He looked perhaps like he had one too many, and he smirked to himself.
The Oblivion Death Squad sat at either end of the table, not seeming at all to belong here. But they wore black suits, and ate hearily between drinks. The pair of them occasionally commenting to one another in their native tongue. Sinclair would answer them, or Drake would look at them in confusion. But the Death Squad didn't seem to notice or care that Drake couldn't understand them.
At the center of the table sat Donzig himself, and unlike the rest of Donzig-gun he didn't even bother. He wore his same gear as always, draped in that long black leather coat with his mask over his face. He stared at nothing, the food before him untouched as was the wine at his hand. He didn't speak to anyone, but his voice rasped out slightly off key.
'Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, But you only want the ones that you can't get...
A pause, and he lifted his masked face as he hissed.
Desperado. Oh, you ain't getting no younger;
Your pain and your hunger, They're driving you home...
The rest of the group paused, and Donzig shook his head before he lifted a hand to drag his wrist across the mouth of the mask. Then he lifted his wine, though he didn't drink it as he swirled it absently. A shrug of leather clad shoulders, and he stared at a few patrons who looked too long at the table before they quickly looked away.
'Edward Zepp. It has been a minute, and you see after awhile everyone seems to blur together to me. Like faces in the rain, you see in the darkness of the Void we all look the same to these eyes, eh? But I remember you from your brief time in Canada, you followed that piece of shit Parsons around like a dog.'
Donzig tilted his head, and he sat the wine glass down before he let his fingers drum against the table. And every eye in Donzig-gun watched that tapping finger, and then Donzig growled again. A pause, and a shrug. 'I like dogs, I daresay I love dogs. Dogs are not like people, dogs are loyal.'
His gaze swept across his minions, pausing on each one in turn as he mused.
Sinclair Godfrey.
Gavin Drake.
Mormo.
Moloch.
'I value loyalty. And you know that a dog will stay loyal, even if you mistreat it, even if you abuse it's trust, even if all you do is inflict misery on the poor beast. A dog will still wag it's tail as it's master, it will still greet that master with love. It will defend that master to the end.'
Donzig's hand lifted, and fell.
'Until one day? It doesn't. I have been a dog, Edward. And my former masters learned how much I would take.'
Gavin Drake smirked at that, lifting his glass in salute before he hammered back another drink. He slammed the glass down, and poured another one as he laughed. 'Ah, to absent friends.'
Donzig grunted, lifting the wine glass as the rest of them followed suit. Then he continued, the wine still untouched as he leaned back in the chair.
'Edward, I am sure you're a fine wrestler. I am sure, you're a good hand.' Sinclair snorted at that, hiding a smile behind her hand as Donzig glanced at her. Then he continued with a shrug of leather clad shoulders. 'But you see Edward? I normally don't get too excited about gold, about titles, you see far too often I have seen men who would have been great champions stand there with nothing. I have seen champions not worth shit, not worth a damned thing walk around draped in gold. I have seen men go down in the dirt struggling for a final taste of that meaningless gold.'
Donzig hissed, a hand lifting to brush across his mask before he let it fall to the table.
'I may have done it myself once or twice.'
Drake smirked again, sipping at his scotch as the restaurant continued it's business around them.
'But you see, Edward. This is a game of perception, a game of appearance, of what people expect. And so sadly, to teach them the error of their ways? It seems that I am going to need a title, and what better fucking title then the one that should have been mine in two thousand and twenty one! The SPARK title!'
Other patrons flinched, and the piano hit a wrong note as Donzig's voice rose to an angry shriek. And he lifted a hand, fingers curled near his mask as he took a deep breath. The other members of Donzig-gun stared, Sinclair's face a mask as Drake held his glass near his lips as Donzig took another breath before he shrugged. His fingers dragging across the mask, and he snapped an angry glare at the pianist who started to play again.
Yellow Brick Road.
'You see the sad facts are that if it were not for a certain person who shall remain nameless getting himself pinned? I would have disposed of Vodka Fizz like I did at One Violent Night, and I would have entered the new year as the Spark Champion! But here we are, here the fuck we are.'
Donzig lifted a hand, and he continued.
'You see Edward, you and these others? You're good, you're real good, but I? I am like a God, a dark and angry God.'
That seemed to strike a note to Drake, who blinked before he flashed a smile as his glass lifted once more. 'Amen.'
'And I am coming for what is mine! And the rest I am taking! You see the five of you? Are in my way, and anyone? Anything? That gets in my way? Goes down into the cold and empty dark!' Donzig hissed, and his hand started to fall towards the table in a fist. But he paused, and slowly uncurled his fingers with a shrug. Glancing at the staring Sinclair, before he hissed. 'I am the uncrowned Spark Champion, I have never been pinned in Fireside, I have never been submitted in Fireside! And I have faced off against the best and brightest in the XHF and came out unscathed! So get ready, Edward!'
Donzig waved a hand at the food laden table, and the restaurant beyond.
'You see? To me? Fireside is a feast, and Donzig-gun? It hungers.'
A pause, and then Donzig lifted his hand to splay his fingers across the mask. They tightened slowly, and he pulled the mask off before looking down at it. A nod, and he passed it to Sinclair. She held it reverently, and his fingers slid through his beard before he turned his cold empty gaze to the camera as his face twisted into a scowl.
'Which brings me to this--' Donzig reached inside of his coat, and he produced a single white chess piece. A king and he sat it on the table, and he shook his head. '--I told everyone. Months ago that you couldn't be trusted, that you were playing games. You think I can't see you? But I see you, I have always seen you. I know your kind, and I know how to deal with them. You think we could face each other and I wouldn't know you, eh? You rejected my friendship, you rejected us. And yet we are here now? And you dangle these prizes before us, like we are some common rabble? You think you can break me with pride? That I can't see the trap?'
Donzig reached down, picking up the king to hold it between his fingers. 'No, no, no.'