Post by Dackle on Oct 17, 2017 14:00:59 GMT -5
The camera opens to a winged back chair sitting in front of a fireplace. The chair is facing the fire, and all we can see is the back as the fire perfectly silhouettes the chair against the stone walls of the room. A small wooden end table is to the left of the chair, with a brown drink in a tumbler glass. A voice comes from the chair.
Well, well. The time is here again. Steve Dackle is finally getting back in the ring. It has been quite some time since I got to maim someone. How sweet it will be. But before I get in the ring and do my worst, I have two messages.
The chair turns and Dackle can be seen. He is wearing a black robe with a dark blue ascot around the neck. He picks up the drink and takes a sip.
Number one…Ahem. Dylan Black, you and I have known each other for a while. Under other circumstances, you may have been someone Steve Dackle could trust. But now, we are forced to watch each other’s back. Well Mr. Black, I have just five words for you. Stay out of my way.
He takes another drink. His sleeve rides down his arm a bit and a large scar along the forearm is seen breaking up a sleeve tattoo. He sets the drink down ever so carefully. He leans forward and the camera pans in on his face.
As for the second one, this goes out to the two poor souls who must cohabitate the ring with myself.
You pathetic piles of human excrement have no idea who I am or what I do. I spent five years in a cave in Afghanistan getting tortured and brutalized. While pain is now as much a part of me as the very scars that are raised from my body, it will soon be yours.
Ya see, I don’t care if I win the match. That is Dylan Black’s concern. I don’t care if any washout wearing a striped shirt rings some dinky little bell and declares I lost. I already lost this game of life. I am miserable. My goal is not to win, but to have you join me. Misery loves company, and now, you both are knocking at my door.
I am not a technical guy. You won’t see no complex holds or a fisherman’s Suplex from this guy, oh no. But what you will see, well, what you will see is the stuff of nightmares.
He takes another sip of the drink.
While you will go off and try a wrist lock or a leg whip, I will dismantle you, literally. I won’t start with an arm or a leg. I am going to hit you where it is uncomfortable and will forever alter your life.
He looks down as if to examine his hand. The camera focuses in on his left hand and multiple scars can be seen on the back.
Fingers are a powerful thing. With a few impacts on a keyboard or mouse, you can do just about anything. With a swipe of a digit, you can communicate to anyone around the world. That’s where I will begin.
I became an expert in joint manipulation while I was in that dark musty cave. I am going to mangle your hand so bad, your new name will be lefty.
Wanna know a fun fact? It takes more pressure to bite through a baby carrot than it does to bite off a human finger. Maybe I will take your pinky finger. I need a new key chain.
And while you sit there and hold your hand, while the blood turns the pale blue canvas into a dark crimson mess, while you are holding your hand and screaming in pain and agony as you contemplate how you will never be able to sign the pathetic checks we get for competing, I will be making my next move.
He rises to his feet and walks over to the bar. The camera follows him. He pours himself a refill and sips again. Now, behind the bar, the camera focuses in once again on his face.
The human ear is a wondrous organ. Most of it lies in your skull, however, the sound collector is the ear lobe itself. It’s a genius way we were created. But the thing is, you don’t need the cartilage to hear. What I am going to do is just rip it off the side of your head. I am going to destroy the very frame of your pretty little smile.
He pauses as the camera shows another scar on the side of his face, near his ear.
Your blood, your very life force will ooze out of the side of your skull. The puddle around you will wided and grow a deeper red. Ya know what I’m gonna do?
I’m going to sit in the corner and look around. While your screams of horror become the soundtrack of the night, I am going to look out among the fans. I am going to watch as a look of sheer disbelief and disgust line the faces of those in the first row. A fine pink mist will dominate their attire as they are absolutely horrified of the events taking place.
He steps from behind the bar. He walks back over and leans against the mantle over the beautiful masonry work of the fire pit. He sips the drink again.
I am going to look deeper into the crowd and see little Timmy. He is at his first wrestling show. His mom brought him here since he daddy skipped out on both of them. Instead of using the child support on clothes for little Timmy, she decided to bring him here.
I am going to watch as he buries his head into his mother’s thigh and asks her through the tears welling up in his little baby blues ‘Why Mommy why?” I am going to look at his crack riddled mother who can say nothing.
I am going to look off to the left and see Derek and Emily. This is their first date. I am going to look out and see his hopes of getting laid tonight grow smaller and smaller as the puddle of your blood in the ring grows bigger and bigger. I am going to watch as the promise of a relationship between the two, something that could have set the world ablaze, dies. Their first date will forever be marred by the memory of what I will do to the both of you.
His voice was becoming more and more intense. After he finished speaking he chucked his drink into the fire. The glass shattered and the fire rose for moments as the alcohol fueled the chaos. He got right up into the camera's lens and began to slightly shake with fury. Then, as if a switch was flipped, he smiled a huge toothy grin. He began to chuckle a bit as he sat back down in his chair.
And then, after I am satisfied that the most amount of physical and psychological pain could be done, I will calmly walk over, tag Mr. Black, and let him put you out of your misery.
And while the EMTs rush to ringside to try and patch you two back together, I am going to calmly walk to the locker room, gather my things, and leave. I will get in a cab, board a plane, and return home, taking solace in the fact that you two, and the crowd, will be like me, damaged.
The chair spun back around and the camera panned into the fire before the scene cut out.
Well, well. The time is here again. Steve Dackle is finally getting back in the ring. It has been quite some time since I got to maim someone. How sweet it will be. But before I get in the ring and do my worst, I have two messages.
The chair turns and Dackle can be seen. He is wearing a black robe with a dark blue ascot around the neck. He picks up the drink and takes a sip.
Number one…Ahem. Dylan Black, you and I have known each other for a while. Under other circumstances, you may have been someone Steve Dackle could trust. But now, we are forced to watch each other’s back. Well Mr. Black, I have just five words for you. Stay out of my way.
He takes another drink. His sleeve rides down his arm a bit and a large scar along the forearm is seen breaking up a sleeve tattoo. He sets the drink down ever so carefully. He leans forward and the camera pans in on his face.
As for the second one, this goes out to the two poor souls who must cohabitate the ring with myself.
You pathetic piles of human excrement have no idea who I am or what I do. I spent five years in a cave in Afghanistan getting tortured and brutalized. While pain is now as much a part of me as the very scars that are raised from my body, it will soon be yours.
Ya see, I don’t care if I win the match. That is Dylan Black’s concern. I don’t care if any washout wearing a striped shirt rings some dinky little bell and declares I lost. I already lost this game of life. I am miserable. My goal is not to win, but to have you join me. Misery loves company, and now, you both are knocking at my door.
I am not a technical guy. You won’t see no complex holds or a fisherman’s Suplex from this guy, oh no. But what you will see, well, what you will see is the stuff of nightmares.
He takes another sip of the drink.
While you will go off and try a wrist lock or a leg whip, I will dismantle you, literally. I won’t start with an arm or a leg. I am going to hit you where it is uncomfortable and will forever alter your life.
He looks down as if to examine his hand. The camera focuses in on his left hand and multiple scars can be seen on the back.
Fingers are a powerful thing. With a few impacts on a keyboard or mouse, you can do just about anything. With a swipe of a digit, you can communicate to anyone around the world. That’s where I will begin.
I became an expert in joint manipulation while I was in that dark musty cave. I am going to mangle your hand so bad, your new name will be lefty.
Wanna know a fun fact? It takes more pressure to bite through a baby carrot than it does to bite off a human finger. Maybe I will take your pinky finger. I need a new key chain.
And while you sit there and hold your hand, while the blood turns the pale blue canvas into a dark crimson mess, while you are holding your hand and screaming in pain and agony as you contemplate how you will never be able to sign the pathetic checks we get for competing, I will be making my next move.
He rises to his feet and walks over to the bar. The camera follows him. He pours himself a refill and sips again. Now, behind the bar, the camera focuses in once again on his face.
The human ear is a wondrous organ. Most of it lies in your skull, however, the sound collector is the ear lobe itself. It’s a genius way we were created. But the thing is, you don’t need the cartilage to hear. What I am going to do is just rip it off the side of your head. I am going to destroy the very frame of your pretty little smile.
He pauses as the camera shows another scar on the side of his face, near his ear.
Your blood, your very life force will ooze out of the side of your skull. The puddle around you will wided and grow a deeper red. Ya know what I’m gonna do?
I’m going to sit in the corner and look around. While your screams of horror become the soundtrack of the night, I am going to look out among the fans. I am going to watch as a look of sheer disbelief and disgust line the faces of those in the first row. A fine pink mist will dominate their attire as they are absolutely horrified of the events taking place.
He steps from behind the bar. He walks back over and leans against the mantle over the beautiful masonry work of the fire pit. He sips the drink again.
I am going to look deeper into the crowd and see little Timmy. He is at his first wrestling show. His mom brought him here since he daddy skipped out on both of them. Instead of using the child support on clothes for little Timmy, she decided to bring him here.
I am going to watch as he buries his head into his mother’s thigh and asks her through the tears welling up in his little baby blues ‘Why Mommy why?” I am going to look at his crack riddled mother who can say nothing.
I am going to look off to the left and see Derek and Emily. This is their first date. I am going to look out and see his hopes of getting laid tonight grow smaller and smaller as the puddle of your blood in the ring grows bigger and bigger. I am going to watch as the promise of a relationship between the two, something that could have set the world ablaze, dies. Their first date will forever be marred by the memory of what I will do to the both of you.
His voice was becoming more and more intense. After he finished speaking he chucked his drink into the fire. The glass shattered and the fire rose for moments as the alcohol fueled the chaos. He got right up into the camera's lens and began to slightly shake with fury. Then, as if a switch was flipped, he smiled a huge toothy grin. He began to chuckle a bit as he sat back down in his chair.
And then, after I am satisfied that the most amount of physical and psychological pain could be done, I will calmly walk over, tag Mr. Black, and let him put you out of your misery.
And while the EMTs rush to ringside to try and patch you two back together, I am going to calmly walk to the locker room, gather my things, and leave. I will get in a cab, board a plane, and return home, taking solace in the fact that you two, and the crowd, will be like me, damaged.
The chair spun back around and the camera panned into the fire before the scene cut out.
