Post by bloodiedfox on Feb 19, 2023 16:52:35 GMT -5
The scrape of metal on stone.
Jack Gaines draws the knife across the whetstone, the sound of the sharpening filling the air. Seated upon the top steps of the Howe Street Stairs in Seattle, he is giving the task his entire focus. Beside him sits Brendan Harding, his eyes glaring start down the camera lens. He looks tired and angry.
Tarnished: to lose one’s lustre. To shine less brightly. To be seen as of lesser worth than before. Is that what we are?
Brendan closes his eyes and runs a hand up his forehead and through his hair, his knuckles bloodied from impact with hard surfaces.
We challenged Top of the Class for the XHF Tag Team titles in the name of JROK and the people of Tokyo. We failed. To lose so narrowly to such a talented team is no disgrace, but to fail when you strive in the name of others…
He trails off, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, then continues.
So now we seek to earn our second shot, and we will do that by coming to the XHF federation with the deepest tag team division. We step into a gauntlet match where the ultimate goal is to dethrone The Bastards, a team who have reigned supreme for 9 months. We will go to war with duos as brutal as The Glucks; as athletically gifted as Bear-O-Dactyl; as twisted as The Twins. We face the prospect of facing not one but two teams that serve The Scourge known as Donzig; Oblivion Death Squad, the men who eliminated us at End of Days, and the man himself and his right hand woman. We are up against odds that seem insurmountable, but we remember the most important thing:
Jack stops sharpening, putting the whetstone down. Seemingly satisfied, he draws the blade across his pal, then turns his hand over to allow blood to drip between his feet.
The tarnished blade is no less sharp.
A grim smile on his face, he passes the blade to Brendan, who copies his motions. As their blood spills in tandem, Brendan speaks again.
This will not be easy. We do not care.
We are outsiders, against teams we have no experience fighting. We do not care.
There is every possibility we will enter first and have to try and beat every single other team in this match. We do not care.
Our home has burned and the people responsible walk free. My husband is under the thrall of a mad man and no-one seems willing to do a damn thing about it. That is what we care about. That is what drives us. We will carve a bloody swathe through this match because our violence is all we can offer and our opponents are the only targets available. We earn our way to another shot at the XHF Tag Team titles, and we may very well have the W:UK Tag Team titles around our waists as we take that shot.
Brendan squeezes his bleeding hand into a fist and draws it close. Jack, meanwhile, rubs his against his face, face serene as he coats it in fresh blood.
We are Black Knife Cabal. We are the blades by which gods die, and you, ladies and gentlemen…
Jack leans closer to the camera, teeth brilliant white as his crimson face splits into a beatific smile.
…are less than gods.
Jack Gaines draws the knife across the whetstone, the sound of the sharpening filling the air. Seated upon the top steps of the Howe Street Stairs in Seattle, he is giving the task his entire focus. Beside him sits Brendan Harding, his eyes glaring start down the camera lens. He looks tired and angry.
Tarnished: to lose one’s lustre. To shine less brightly. To be seen as of lesser worth than before. Is that what we are?
Brendan closes his eyes and runs a hand up his forehead and through his hair, his knuckles bloodied from impact with hard surfaces.
We challenged Top of the Class for the XHF Tag Team titles in the name of JROK and the people of Tokyo. We failed. To lose so narrowly to such a talented team is no disgrace, but to fail when you strive in the name of others…
He trails off, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, then continues.
So now we seek to earn our second shot, and we will do that by coming to the XHF federation with the deepest tag team division. We step into a gauntlet match where the ultimate goal is to dethrone The Bastards, a team who have reigned supreme for 9 months. We will go to war with duos as brutal as The Glucks; as athletically gifted as Bear-O-Dactyl; as twisted as The Twins. We face the prospect of facing not one but two teams that serve The Scourge known as Donzig; Oblivion Death Squad, the men who eliminated us at End of Days, and the man himself and his right hand woman. We are up against odds that seem insurmountable, but we remember the most important thing:
Jack stops sharpening, putting the whetstone down. Seemingly satisfied, he draws the blade across his pal, then turns his hand over to allow blood to drip between his feet.
The tarnished blade is no less sharp.
A grim smile on his face, he passes the blade to Brendan, who copies his motions. As their blood spills in tandem, Brendan speaks again.
This will not be easy. We do not care.
We are outsiders, against teams we have no experience fighting. We do not care.
There is every possibility we will enter first and have to try and beat every single other team in this match. We do not care.
Our home has burned and the people responsible walk free. My husband is under the thrall of a mad man and no-one seems willing to do a damn thing about it. That is what we care about. That is what drives us. We will carve a bloody swathe through this match because our violence is all we can offer and our opponents are the only targets available. We earn our way to another shot at the XHF Tag Team titles, and we may very well have the W:UK Tag Team titles around our waists as we take that shot.
Brendan squeezes his bleeding hand into a fist and draws it close. Jack, meanwhile, rubs his against his face, face serene as he coats it in fresh blood.
We are Black Knife Cabal. We are the blades by which gods die, and you, ladies and gentlemen…
Jack leans closer to the camera, teeth brilliant white as his crimson face splits into a beatific smile.
…are less than gods.