Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2018 3:18:28 GMT -5
*The following was shared a few hours after the previous tape was leaked. The users were immediately banned and most times it was re-posted it disappeared within minutes of it's surfacing*
-Every scene is cut from various feeds of security footage. While walking down hallways or moving around the room a different camera would pick up the action. These would be time stamped and dated and the quality of the footage wouldn't be better than the average cellphone feed. After all, some corners need to be cut. There is a budget to everything in life. Front and center would be two men, starting their way down one of these corridors.-
"Mr. Justice, we have the report on the subject."
-The man who said this would push a folder into the hands of other other. While walking he would start skimming the pages. Often flipping through one to the next and then going back to reference the former. An expression of dissatisfaction would grow on his face to the contrary of most expectations as he then shoves the work back into the arms of the giver.-
"We've spent a lot of money on this so far, and this is all that you eggheads can get me? You think this is a game? Where the colorful words of a smart man can cover up the lack of substance? Do you even know what's at stake here?"
"Sir, If i may, I understand the sentiment. But if you would just look at it again..."
-The man who was suggesting this would try to force the folder back into the hands of his superior. Though, as soon as the documents reached the latter's hands it was picked up and tossed upon the floor. They both stop in the middle of the corridor and look at each other.-
"We're not here for excuses son. We're here for results. I don't think you realize the gravity of this project. We have a specimen in these walls that can change the name of modern warfare. Science was supposed to tell us why that big hunk of shit in D-Block mows through everyone abroad. Why he sends shivers down the spine of everyone who dares get in the same ring. Yet You dumb asses can't even figure out why his blood is discolored yet?!"
"Sir, please realize we were given a super tight schedule..."
-The superior, Mr. Justice, throws the folder on the the floor now and even stomps it with his foot. He grabs his inferior by the collar and backs him into a wall.-
"I just said excuses will not cut it around here. So far, that's all you have given me. We're on a deadline and we need to produce something of value. or do you want to be out on your ass?"
-The man restrained gulps before speaking again.-
"Regardless of the problems adapting it to other test subjects we've already seen changes in subject zero. If nothing else we believe we've isolated the source of their unique properties."
-The man in charge relaxes his grip and lets the other man go, smiles and fixes the former's suit. He then taps his victim's cheek playfully.-
"That's the kind of stuff I like to hear. I'd like to see it for myself though. Come on."
-The cameras follow the two as they begin heading down the hall but they make a cut to a holding area. Each side of a narrow pathway is a row of cells. The camera begins flipping through them staying for a moment capturing the people inside. Many would be writing around in pain, others would be murmuring to themselves rocking back and forth, but all of them had one thing in common. They were giant, bulbous human beings.
The camera then cuts on last time, this time a man twice the size of the others is sitting still, in a straight jacket, staring directly at the camera as if it knew it was trained on him at all times. As if by another divine coincidence the man stands up by rolling up against a wall and using it to prop himself up. His motion is interrupted as he catches his breath from the exertion. After regaining his breath he moves to the camera and stares directly in it.-
"I don't know who's watching, and frankly I don't give a damn. I'm going to get a few things off this big chest of mine. All of my life I've been called an animal. A pig, a cow, sometimes even a hippo. I was looked down on by everyone. Now i'm caged like one too. Penned up and experimented on like a piece of property. Maybe when they're done with me I'll be turned into glue. I don't know.
I don't even know what's really going on here. My days have been full of needles, only three course meals, and pencil necked geeks writing on clipboards. They throw me back in this cell, barely big enough to kick my feet up, where I have to listen to the groans and screams of the others here with me. One of them even said it's all my fault. I've been told that a lot in my life too.
As I sit here, basically alone in my head, I keep thinking about how similar it all is. How nothing really changes for me even if the scenery does. Be it in the AXW ring, a kid with a chicken wing in his hand crying in his bed, or even in this hellhole. To the outside world I'm nothing more than a commodity. Something that needs to be controlled and used.
That's where everyone always makes their mistake though: I'm not an animal, I'm a demon. You can't control demons. You can't predict them. You can't harness the pure power and rage of one. You can't tell them they can't have seconds, they just take them. And there's nothing anyone can do about that either. You can delay it, but eventually you will lose.
I've had a lot of time to think about all of this, but for some reason I keep thinking about Chris Card too. How a man like that gets respect. Everyone appreciates his talents. Even though he has his haters they look on his work and go "well at least he can go in the ring." It seems like success has followed him in every aspect of his life. I hate that.
Normally I wouldn't give my challengers much thought. Hell, normally I can't even string two thoughts together long enough to care. But Dreadvan here has never been respected. That's why if I do get out of here by our match at End of Days Card, I'm not coming to simply win. I'm coming to destroy you. And yeah, it's because I'm jealous of you. But also because I want everyone who wants to be Chris Card to understand that reality is a cruel bitch. Hard work only goes so far.
Being smarter than the rest of the people in the room has limits to it's usefulness. Even the greatest minds in the world had problems they couldn't solve. I'm wanna be that problem for you Card. The nightmare you can't wake up from. In fact, you're lucky in still in here. I didn't even want to wait till End of Days. But I am, and you are not. Yet make no mistake the other thing I'm thinking about is how to get the hell out of here. So don't worry. If I miss our match I'm still coming for you. Sleep with one eye open, and remember to be cautious of demons."
-Dreadvan would still be staring into the camera as sirens begin to go off. Red lights would be pulsating shortly after and the announce system would begin repeating "INTRUDER ALERT, CODE 4." Several armed guards rush past the cell bars and Dreadvan offers a sly smile before the feed cuts.-
-Every scene is cut from various feeds of security footage. While walking down hallways or moving around the room a different camera would pick up the action. These would be time stamped and dated and the quality of the footage wouldn't be better than the average cellphone feed. After all, some corners need to be cut. There is a budget to everything in life. Front and center would be two men, starting their way down one of these corridors.-
"Mr. Justice, we have the report on the subject."
-The man who said this would push a folder into the hands of other other. While walking he would start skimming the pages. Often flipping through one to the next and then going back to reference the former. An expression of dissatisfaction would grow on his face to the contrary of most expectations as he then shoves the work back into the arms of the giver.-
"We've spent a lot of money on this so far, and this is all that you eggheads can get me? You think this is a game? Where the colorful words of a smart man can cover up the lack of substance? Do you even know what's at stake here?"
"Sir, If i may, I understand the sentiment. But if you would just look at it again..."
-The man who was suggesting this would try to force the folder back into the hands of his superior. Though, as soon as the documents reached the latter's hands it was picked up and tossed upon the floor. They both stop in the middle of the corridor and look at each other.-
"We're not here for excuses son. We're here for results. I don't think you realize the gravity of this project. We have a specimen in these walls that can change the name of modern warfare. Science was supposed to tell us why that big hunk of shit in D-Block mows through everyone abroad. Why he sends shivers down the spine of everyone who dares get in the same ring. Yet You dumb asses can't even figure out why his blood is discolored yet?!"
"Sir, please realize we were given a super tight schedule..."
-The superior, Mr. Justice, throws the folder on the the floor now and even stomps it with his foot. He grabs his inferior by the collar and backs him into a wall.-
"I just said excuses will not cut it around here. So far, that's all you have given me. We're on a deadline and we need to produce something of value. or do you want to be out on your ass?"
-The man restrained gulps before speaking again.-
"Regardless of the problems adapting it to other test subjects we've already seen changes in subject zero. If nothing else we believe we've isolated the source of their unique properties."
-The man in charge relaxes his grip and lets the other man go, smiles and fixes the former's suit. He then taps his victim's cheek playfully.-
"That's the kind of stuff I like to hear. I'd like to see it for myself though. Come on."
-The cameras follow the two as they begin heading down the hall but they make a cut to a holding area. Each side of a narrow pathway is a row of cells. The camera begins flipping through them staying for a moment capturing the people inside. Many would be writing around in pain, others would be murmuring to themselves rocking back and forth, but all of them had one thing in common. They were giant, bulbous human beings.
The camera then cuts on last time, this time a man twice the size of the others is sitting still, in a straight jacket, staring directly at the camera as if it knew it was trained on him at all times. As if by another divine coincidence the man stands up by rolling up against a wall and using it to prop himself up. His motion is interrupted as he catches his breath from the exertion. After regaining his breath he moves to the camera and stares directly in it.-
"I don't know who's watching, and frankly I don't give a damn. I'm going to get a few things off this big chest of mine. All of my life I've been called an animal. A pig, a cow, sometimes even a hippo. I was looked down on by everyone. Now i'm caged like one too. Penned up and experimented on like a piece of property. Maybe when they're done with me I'll be turned into glue. I don't know.
I don't even know what's really going on here. My days have been full of needles, only three course meals, and pencil necked geeks writing on clipboards. They throw me back in this cell, barely big enough to kick my feet up, where I have to listen to the groans and screams of the others here with me. One of them even said it's all my fault. I've been told that a lot in my life too.
As I sit here, basically alone in my head, I keep thinking about how similar it all is. How nothing really changes for me even if the scenery does. Be it in the AXW ring, a kid with a chicken wing in his hand crying in his bed, or even in this hellhole. To the outside world I'm nothing more than a commodity. Something that needs to be controlled and used.
That's where everyone always makes their mistake though: I'm not an animal, I'm a demon. You can't control demons. You can't predict them. You can't harness the pure power and rage of one. You can't tell them they can't have seconds, they just take them. And there's nothing anyone can do about that either. You can delay it, but eventually you will lose.
I've had a lot of time to think about all of this, but for some reason I keep thinking about Chris Card too. How a man like that gets respect. Everyone appreciates his talents. Even though he has his haters they look on his work and go "well at least he can go in the ring." It seems like success has followed him in every aspect of his life. I hate that.
Normally I wouldn't give my challengers much thought. Hell, normally I can't even string two thoughts together long enough to care. But Dreadvan here has never been respected. That's why if I do get out of here by our match at End of Days Card, I'm not coming to simply win. I'm coming to destroy you. And yeah, it's because I'm jealous of you. But also because I want everyone who wants to be Chris Card to understand that reality is a cruel bitch. Hard work only goes so far.
Being smarter than the rest of the people in the room has limits to it's usefulness. Even the greatest minds in the world had problems they couldn't solve. I'm wanna be that problem for you Card. The nightmare you can't wake up from. In fact, you're lucky in still in here. I didn't even want to wait till End of Days. But I am, and you are not. Yet make no mistake the other thing I'm thinking about is how to get the hell out of here. So don't worry. If I miss our match I'm still coming for you. Sleep with one eye open, and remember to be cautious of demons."
-Dreadvan would still be staring into the camera as sirens begin to go off. Red lights would be pulsating shortly after and the announce system would begin repeating "INTRUDER ALERT, CODE 4." Several armed guards rush past the cell bars and Dreadvan offers a sly smile before the feed cuts.-