Post by Dackle on Jan 24, 2018 20:00:36 GMT -5
The camera is focused on a roaring fire. It pulls back out to see Dackle, sitting in his chair. He is wearing a black smoking jacket and a silk ascot with the Darkness logo facing out, underneath the unshaven chin of the FWA Fire and Ice Tag Team Champion. His legs are crossed, and his hands are folded in his lap. A cigar is burning in the ash tray to his right, next to a tumbler full of ice and scotch, leaving a condensation ring on the mahogany table. There are a few uncomfortable seconds where the only audio that can be heard is the crackle of the wood burning.
So, it has come to this. It has come to a battle for Supremacy. Instead of getting my title shot at the ColdWar Championship, I get a shot at the XHF Tag Team Belts. It is fitting isn’t it? The name Supremacy. At this show, I get to spread the Darkness. I get to show why everything fades to black. I get to show that when it is all said and done, Darkness reigns Supreme.
Dackle tags a sip from his glass and a pull from his cigar. He keeps the cigar in his right hand as he continues.
Five teams. Five teams will be going against Mr. Black and myself. Five teams, ten men, ten souls who have no earthly idea what to expect. There are people from all around this world that will feel the cold and lonely darkness. Ten fools who think they can escape the shadows and come into the light and glory that shimmers off the gold belts.
He takes another drag from the cigar. He snuffs it out in the ash tray. Dackle then rises to his feet.
Come here Mr. Cameraman. I want you to have a good shot at this.
Dackle unties the robe from around his waist. It falls into his chair. His bare chest, marked with scars and bumps from a life of misery, pain, and torture.
Focus real close on these Mr. Cameraman. This is what I have been through. These are landmarks, monuments of what my body has been through. They are reminders that I am willing to literally tear myself to pieces to get what I want. Some of these, some of these were to get freedom. Some of these were to get freedom from a bunch of … dead men. Some of these were to get freedom from my own mind. And some of these, some of these were to get freedom from the darkness.
Dackle motions for the camera to pan up.
Focus right here. Zoom in right here.
Dackle motioned to his eyes.
I want each and every one of you to look right here, right into my eyes. I want you all to see that this is not some job to me. This is not some character I play on the weekends to earn extra money. This is not something I have dreamt about since I was little. This is not something I live for, enjoy, or even love.
Wrestling is something I need. Wrestling is something I have to do so I do not go on a homicidal rampage and find myself on the other side of the bars in Moscow. You all may love it. You all may live it. I do it to make sure you all will still be breathing. I will succeed and spread my darkness at Supremacy. Myself and Mr. Black, we will rank supreme, or you all will die as we try.
Abruptly, the fire dies and a sick and maniacal laugh can be heard. A loud bang and several crashes are heard as the camera cuts to static.
So, it has come to this. It has come to a battle for Supremacy. Instead of getting my title shot at the ColdWar Championship, I get a shot at the XHF Tag Team Belts. It is fitting isn’t it? The name Supremacy. At this show, I get to spread the Darkness. I get to show why everything fades to black. I get to show that when it is all said and done, Darkness reigns Supreme.
Dackle tags a sip from his glass and a pull from his cigar. He keeps the cigar in his right hand as he continues.
Five teams. Five teams will be going against Mr. Black and myself. Five teams, ten men, ten souls who have no earthly idea what to expect. There are people from all around this world that will feel the cold and lonely darkness. Ten fools who think they can escape the shadows and come into the light and glory that shimmers off the gold belts.
He takes another drag from the cigar. He snuffs it out in the ash tray. Dackle then rises to his feet.
Come here Mr. Cameraman. I want you to have a good shot at this.
Dackle unties the robe from around his waist. It falls into his chair. His bare chest, marked with scars and bumps from a life of misery, pain, and torture.
Focus real close on these Mr. Cameraman. This is what I have been through. These are landmarks, monuments of what my body has been through. They are reminders that I am willing to literally tear myself to pieces to get what I want. Some of these, some of these were to get freedom. Some of these were to get freedom from a bunch of … dead men. Some of these were to get freedom from my own mind. And some of these, some of these were to get freedom from the darkness.
Dackle motions for the camera to pan up.
Focus right here. Zoom in right here.
Dackle motioned to his eyes.
I want each and every one of you to look right here, right into my eyes. I want you all to see that this is not some job to me. This is not some character I play on the weekends to earn extra money. This is not something I have dreamt about since I was little. This is not something I live for, enjoy, or even love.
Wrestling is something I need. Wrestling is something I have to do so I do not go on a homicidal rampage and find myself on the other side of the bars in Moscow. You all may love it. You all may live it. I do it to make sure you all will still be breathing. I will succeed and spread my darkness at Supremacy. Myself and Mr. Black, we will rank supreme, or you all will die as we try.
Abruptly, the fire dies and a sick and maniacal laugh can be heard. A loud bang and several crashes are heard as the camera cuts to static.
