Post by Donzig on Oct 19, 2024 10:20:46 GMT -5
Inside a blackened room around a dark wood table were gathered the strength of Donzig-gun. They sat around in a circle, and behind Donzig was a bound figure that no one could see clearly. At Donzig’s right hand sat Sinclair Godfrey, and at his left frowning as he glared across the masked figure of the Scourge was Gavin Drake.
Sinclair’s eyes narrowed at him slightly. Donzig’s hands rubbed and twisted together, and he hissed before he leaned forward with a tilt of his masked head. Luthor Carbrey met his gaze, his own fingers drumming against the wood of the table.
Across from him sat the silent brutes of the Oblivion Death Squad. Mormo and Moloch. They watched the others, and Mormo would snarl everytime the unseen figure would struggle against his bonds. Donzig reached up slowly, and his hand splayed across the mask before he tugged it off. He handed it to Sinclair, who laid it reverently aside as the Scourge’s eyes narrowed before he tugged at his beard.
‘The Battle of Britain is upon us. And the fall of WUK.’
A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face.
‘You see inside the Battle of Britain, it will be every person for themselves. You see everyone in this company is a fucking viper, they are a snake, and inside of that ring inside the O2 arena? They will be crawling over each other, they will be snapping at each other’s heels!
The self serving. The self-aggrandizing. The glory hungry. Enemies, upon enemies.’
Slow nods, and Donzig lifted his hand.
‘But not for us, not for Donzig-gun. We are–’
A pause, and he looked behind him to the bound unseen figure.
‘Family. And though families fight.’
The Death Squad looked at each other before their dark eyes went to the frowning figures of Drake and Sinclair. Donzig glanced from side to side, and he tugged at his beard before he waved a hand.
‘At the end of the day, it is us against the world isn’t it?
There will be four of you in the Battle of Britain, and you will be a united front. Because I don’t give two fucks who wins, I just want Lord Dominicus to not rest easy on his throne. Oh, he thinks the biggest things he has to worry about are Fox and Crane nipping at his heels?
That Kasper will drag herself out of that den of iniquity that she calls a bloodline to take back her title?
No, no, no.
What he needs to fear is at this table.’
Donzig’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back.
‘And as for Fox, we will strip away his allies. One by one, his little crew of misfits and monsters will fall at our hands. What better time and place to start than here? I want Fox to be reminded that we are not finished.’
Donzig’ hand lifted and fell across the X-Crown that sat before Drake. His fingers tapped against it, and he hissed as he stared into the shadows.
‘The X-Crown is not enough for me, I must grind every spark of defiance out. I must break the unbreakable.’
A shrug, and Sinclair frowned as the bound figure twisted unseen in the darkness. Donzig ignored it, and he growled.
‘Jason Long. Seth Dillinger. Ryan Young. Doc Holiday.
All of these legends creeping out of the past, trying to take what belongs to us! What belongs to me? To take from me! Well, at the Battle of Britain we will send a message! We will leave them a reminder that their days are done! That their time has past!
I am the future! We are the future! We are the shadows of what is to come!’
Donzig’s hand smacked the table, and his eyes narrowed as everyone else flinched. He leaned forward, snarling as his eyes twitched from side to side. And his fingers claw at the wood, and he spat.
‘I want them all to suffer! I want Long to crawl into Legacy in pieces! As I break Doc Holiday into pieces, as I make sure that he will not walk out of the O2 arena, I want all of you to show these relics where they fucking belong!
I want them to bleed, I want them to hurt! I want Long to see just a shadow of what I am going to do to him, and Lord Dominicus! They will look at what is left of Doc Holiday, and witness the extent of my mercy! They will watch him roll out of the O2 strapped down on that stretcher, and know they are next!’
Donzig smiled a cold evil smile that didn’t touch his empty eyes, and he scowled.
‘And then we will turn our attention to the other riff-raff that has infected my kingdom of WUK. The Slams. The High Rollers.’
Donzig nodded, and he rose slowly to pace around the table. He paused to stare at the bound figure who tried to escape the heavy leather straps that held him to the chair. His face hidden behind a featureless black mask, and Donzig stared down at him. His fingers drifting absently through his beard, and he lifted his chin.
‘You will be the second part of my message, you will show them that no one is safe from me. I will see this all remade in my image. And we will sink as one into the Void. I will break this fucking reality, I will free us all from our Hell. I will do these things.’
A shrug, and he looked back at the table.
‘I want this place on notice, and you will all do as I command. I want WUK to know at Battle of Britain that the New God is here.’
They all nodded, and rose as he swept from the room.
Sinclair’s eyes narrowed at him slightly. Donzig’s hands rubbed and twisted together, and he hissed before he leaned forward with a tilt of his masked head. Luthor Carbrey met his gaze, his own fingers drumming against the wood of the table.
Across from him sat the silent brutes of the Oblivion Death Squad. Mormo and Moloch. They watched the others, and Mormo would snarl everytime the unseen figure would struggle against his bonds. Donzig reached up slowly, and his hand splayed across the mask before he tugged it off. He handed it to Sinclair, who laid it reverently aside as the Scourge’s eyes narrowed before he tugged at his beard.
‘The Battle of Britain is upon us. And the fall of WUK.’
A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face.
‘You see inside the Battle of Britain, it will be every person for themselves. You see everyone in this company is a fucking viper, they are a snake, and inside of that ring inside the O2 arena? They will be crawling over each other, they will be snapping at each other’s heels!
The self serving. The self-aggrandizing. The glory hungry. Enemies, upon enemies.’
Slow nods, and Donzig lifted his hand.
‘But not for us, not for Donzig-gun. We are–’
A pause, and he looked behind him to the bound unseen figure.
‘Family. And though families fight.’
The Death Squad looked at each other before their dark eyes went to the frowning figures of Drake and Sinclair. Donzig glanced from side to side, and he tugged at his beard before he waved a hand.
‘At the end of the day, it is us against the world isn’t it?
There will be four of you in the Battle of Britain, and you will be a united front. Because I don’t give two fucks who wins, I just want Lord Dominicus to not rest easy on his throne. Oh, he thinks the biggest things he has to worry about are Fox and Crane nipping at his heels?
That Kasper will drag herself out of that den of iniquity that she calls a bloodline to take back her title?
No, no, no.
What he needs to fear is at this table.’
Donzig’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back.
‘And as for Fox, we will strip away his allies. One by one, his little crew of misfits and monsters will fall at our hands. What better time and place to start than here? I want Fox to be reminded that we are not finished.’
Donzig’ hand lifted and fell across the X-Crown that sat before Drake. His fingers tapped against it, and he hissed as he stared into the shadows.
‘The X-Crown is not enough for me, I must grind every spark of defiance out. I must break the unbreakable.’
A shrug, and Sinclair frowned as the bound figure twisted unseen in the darkness. Donzig ignored it, and he growled.
‘Jason Long. Seth Dillinger. Ryan Young. Doc Holiday.
All of these legends creeping out of the past, trying to take what belongs to us! What belongs to me? To take from me! Well, at the Battle of Britain we will send a message! We will leave them a reminder that their days are done! That their time has past!
I am the future! We are the future! We are the shadows of what is to come!’
Donzig’s hand smacked the table, and his eyes narrowed as everyone else flinched. He leaned forward, snarling as his eyes twitched from side to side. And his fingers claw at the wood, and he spat.
‘I want them all to suffer! I want Long to crawl into Legacy in pieces! As I break Doc Holiday into pieces, as I make sure that he will not walk out of the O2 arena, I want all of you to show these relics where they fucking belong!
I want them to bleed, I want them to hurt! I want Long to see just a shadow of what I am going to do to him, and Lord Dominicus! They will look at what is left of Doc Holiday, and witness the extent of my mercy! They will watch him roll out of the O2 strapped down on that stretcher, and know they are next!’
Donzig smiled a cold evil smile that didn’t touch his empty eyes, and he scowled.
‘And then we will turn our attention to the other riff-raff that has infected my kingdom of WUK. The Slams. The High Rollers.’
Donzig nodded, and he rose slowly to pace around the table. He paused to stare at the bound figure who tried to escape the heavy leather straps that held him to the chair. His face hidden behind a featureless black mask, and Donzig stared down at him. His fingers drifting absently through his beard, and he lifted his chin.
‘You will be the second part of my message, you will show them that no one is safe from me. I will see this all remade in my image. And we will sink as one into the Void. I will break this fucking reality, I will free us all from our Hell. I will do these things.’
A shrug, and he looked back at the table.
‘I want this place on notice, and you will all do as I command. I want WUK to know at Battle of Britain that the New God is here.’
They all nodded, and rose as he swept from the room.
