From Chaos... [RP#1]

[Spike Kane]

We open up on an unusually warm October evening, the sun is setting in the distance, behind what looks to be an abandoned and decrepit castle. The camera swoops over the castle grounds, almost, but not quite unseen, a handful of figures in dark robes can be seen shuffling towards the castle itself, as a droning voice speaks.

“At first, Chaos came to be…”

[Buried Alive.

It’s almost too funny to be true, after going through what I’ve gone through. That utter fear, and panic, when you wake up. Only to find yourself in a coffin, in a grave. A grave people who once loved you have spent hours mourning over, only to eventually turn from you to fit their own agenda. To fit their own story, forever altering the facts to put themselves in a good light.

But then, I’ve never been a child of the light, have I?

Ironic you might think, to have been a host to an Arcangel. To take on the might of God himself, but I know now I was just a pawn. A vessel used in a war I have no care to take part in. A vessel used for the only thing I’ve ever truly been good at….

Violence.]

“Origin of all, primordial Earth….”

The huddled figures begin to make their way into the castle proper, lighting torches with flames as they do so. Their hoods hiding their presence.

[I went out in a blaze of glory.

I’d defeated God himself. I’d defeated his half-breed Demon son. I was on top of the world, even as the cancer was tearing me apart inside. For the time I was given, I tried to make things right. With my love, with my children, with my friends. I’d done whatever I needed to do in this business to succeed, and for as many times as I’d been stabbed in the back, I was just as likely to stab someone else also.

That’s before the literal stabbing happened.

Or maybe not, this hand has had a train spike driven through it on two occasions, once by an upstart who faded into obscurity, and once by my own flesh and blood, my so-called brother who I sent crying back to the pits of hell.]

“In unity there is Chaos, in Chaos there are all things….”

The camera follows the figures as they make their way through the narrow hallways of the castle, and begin to descend a spiral staircase into the depths, and the dark below as the light from their torches bounces off the walls.

[My point being, I’ve been through more than most men (or women) ever could stomach. I’ve been persecuted, looked down on, treated like dirt….often through no fault of my own, just who I am. Or where I come from.

I’ve clawed my way out of the gutter, time and time again. Climbed over the useless bodies of those who are just here to make up the numbers. I’ve excelled everywhere I’ve bothered to lay my hat. From the lowly indy federations who can barely manage a year of existence to the XHF itself. To it’s successors, both nCw and IWF.

Halls of Fame galore.

Yet still, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, you people still look down on me. You still dismiss me.

You’d think by now I’d be used to it. You’d think by now I’d have gotten over it, but you see….what used to give me such delight? Proving people wrong. Rising above their meagre expectations for The God of Xtreme?

It just doesn’t give the same buzz it used to, and I think I know why.

Because after all I’ve done, after all I’ve achieved, to dismiss me so out of hand, to look down on me so casually?

It reeks of ignorance, and that, I just cannot fucking stand.]

As the figures begin to reach the bottom of the spiral staircase, the darkness almost seems to dissipate as the glow of fire illuminates the walls. The further they descend, the more shadows seem to dance across the walls, as the singular voice slowly builds to a low chorus.

“We are the lost…..we are the damned…”

[When I set my mind to something, I always see it through. No matter the cost.

Those who are too ignorant to look beyond the borders of the XHF Network have still witnessed this within the network itself. I set my goal to become the X*Crown Champion and free myself from hell. I achieved it. I set my goal to earn my way to the top within FIRESIDE and bring the place crashing down around the heels of it’s pathetic owner who dared doubt me. I achieved it.

Call to Arms.

Twice.

The XHF Hardcore Title….just because I wanted it.

But now? Well, now my goal is simply to make you suffer Donzig. Something I have devoted my entire focus, and my entire being to.

…..and I’m just getting started!]

The figures reach the bottom and enter a large circular room, in the middle sits a throne encased in black. Etched into it are symbols that seem to shift and move when looked upon. The room itself has several exits, not just the one our crowd entered from. As they join their brethren from multiple corridors….eight to be exact.

“We serve thee, the embodiment of the ruinous powers.”

The lights flicker.

“We serve thee, the Primordial Annihilator”

They flicker once more.

“We serve thee, our Warmaster!”

With a crescendo, the flames die for a few seconds, but when they return, Spike Kane sits atop the throne, with an evil, dark grin on his face.

[If you’ve learned anything about me these past few years, Donzig, you should know…I am a man of my word, and I am a petty piece of trash.

I’m going to make you wish you never even uttered the words….The God of Xtreme.]

“All Bloody Hail”