Join me or Perish
Oct 24, 2017 7:35:46 GMT -5
Kira Izumi, 𝓓𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓚𝓸𝓼𝓵𝓸𝓯𝓯, and 1 more like this
Post by Dackle on Oct 24, 2017 7:35:46 GMT -5
The flickering light of the fire in a large stone lined fireplace illuminates a huge study. A large brown leather winged back chair is placed in front of it. The back is turned and a small table is beside it. On that table is a glass tumbler with two chucks of ice and a brown liquid inside. The beads of condensation drip off the glass forming a small ring around the glass. The cracks and pops of the wood in the fire are the only sound to be heard in the opening seconds. A voice breaks through.
Well, here we are again. Another tournament to crown a champion in some promotion. Seems like just yesterday I was in one of these.
A scar covered hand reaches out and picks up the glass. A sip and a gasp of refreshment is made. The ice in the glass chink around and the glass is placed back on the table.
I just got back from some big show in nowheresville. In that big show, I got to tag with someone. He is a former foe and a familiar face from my past. While I may not have been able to put my opponents through the pain I desired, I did enough. I did enough to ensure they won’t be the same. But before I get too far ahead of myself, I must make some things clear.
The chair spins. Seated in said chair, is Steve Dackle. Wearing a red silk smoking jacket and an ascott stuffed around the neck, he addresses the camera directly.
Mr. Black, it was truly a pleasure bringing pain to others with you. I know we go way, way back. But it cannot be denied we make a truly diabolical team. While tagging with someone is not my style, I offer you this. Join me. Help me spread darkness across this prison place we will be in. Help me spread, dare I say, blackness, into the hearts of these jagaloons.
He picks up the glass again and finishes the drink. The ice bangs against the bottom of the glass as it is replaced on the table.
As for the rest of you…I feel I must explain a few things. Ya see, wrestling, or whatever we do here, it is not about winning matches, or titles, or gaining prestige. All wrestling is to me is the ability to injure someone, and not get arrested for it. So whoever is running this firestorm, you can put me in a title tournament. I don’t care. If I win, that just means I get to inflict more damage to another person.
I don’t care if I win. I don’t care if I lose. All I care about is the scream from Igor in cell 227, begging me to stop hurting the guy im in the ring with. All I care about is the look of cringe on the guard’s face. That look of cringe when he knows I can not just destroy the guy I am in the ring with, but himself. All of his hardcore Siberian guard training means nothing if I decide to unleash hell upon him.
Dackle leans back in the chair and crosses his left leg over his right. He folds his hands in his lap and begins to chuckle.
I don’t know who I am facing and, quite frankly, I don’t care. All I give a damned about is when that bell rings, no one can call me off. No one can tell me what to do. I am free to unleash hell, to unleash darkness from my heart into my opponent’s future. So whoever is in charge, send me your best, but beware. After I destroy them, I am coming back for more. The KGB, CIA, Red Army, FWA, AWF, WCW, ECW, or even the Duke himself will not be able to stop me.
He chuckles again as the chair spins back, facing the fire.
Oh, and Mr. Black, this is an exploding offer. Join me or prepare to perish.
The camera focuses back in on the fire as the scene switches to………
Well, here we are again. Another tournament to crown a champion in some promotion. Seems like just yesterday I was in one of these.
A scar covered hand reaches out and picks up the glass. A sip and a gasp of refreshment is made. The ice in the glass chink around and the glass is placed back on the table.
I just got back from some big show in nowheresville. In that big show, I got to tag with someone. He is a former foe and a familiar face from my past. While I may not have been able to put my opponents through the pain I desired, I did enough. I did enough to ensure they won’t be the same. But before I get too far ahead of myself, I must make some things clear.
The chair spins. Seated in said chair, is Steve Dackle. Wearing a red silk smoking jacket and an ascott stuffed around the neck, he addresses the camera directly.
Mr. Black, it was truly a pleasure bringing pain to others with you. I know we go way, way back. But it cannot be denied we make a truly diabolical team. While tagging with someone is not my style, I offer you this. Join me. Help me spread darkness across this prison place we will be in. Help me spread, dare I say, blackness, into the hearts of these jagaloons.
He picks up the glass again and finishes the drink. The ice bangs against the bottom of the glass as it is replaced on the table.
As for the rest of you…I feel I must explain a few things. Ya see, wrestling, or whatever we do here, it is not about winning matches, or titles, or gaining prestige. All wrestling is to me is the ability to injure someone, and not get arrested for it. So whoever is running this firestorm, you can put me in a title tournament. I don’t care. If I win, that just means I get to inflict more damage to another person.
I don’t care if I win. I don’t care if I lose. All I care about is the scream from Igor in cell 227, begging me to stop hurting the guy im in the ring with. All I care about is the look of cringe on the guard’s face. That look of cringe when he knows I can not just destroy the guy I am in the ring with, but himself. All of his hardcore Siberian guard training means nothing if I decide to unleash hell upon him.
Dackle leans back in the chair and crosses his left leg over his right. He folds his hands in his lap and begins to chuckle.
I don’t know who I am facing and, quite frankly, I don’t care. All I give a damned about is when that bell rings, no one can call me off. No one can tell me what to do. I am free to unleash hell, to unleash darkness from my heart into my opponent’s future. So whoever is in charge, send me your best, but beware. After I destroy them, I am coming back for more. The KGB, CIA, Red Army, FWA, AWF, WCW, ECW, or even the Duke himself will not be able to stop me.
He chuckles again as the chair spins back, facing the fire.
Oh, and Mr. Black, this is an exploding offer. Join me or prepare to perish.
The camera focuses back in on the fire as the scene switches to………
