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Imperial · (05-02-2017)

Purple and pink lights alternate through the dimly lit room, creating a throbbing effect reminiscent of a Swedish underground club. The reverberations emanating from the speakers shudder through the room. Every few seconds, a bright white flash hits the lens of the camera, creating silhouettes of the people in the room. This created the effect of snapshot pictures of the people every second, as in that split second, they all seemed to freeze. Smoke permeated the lower third of the room, warping the visual foggy; distorted.

Between flashes you might’ve tried to count the people in the room. You might’ve counted six people, or seven, it would’ve been hard to tell. One thing you’d have definitely seen was the silhouette of an individual seated on a large, plump arm chair. His long, cascading hair would create an interesting profile off the lights, making him seem like he had a long, Vader-esque helmet on his head. His eyes flashed red, the lights flashing off eyeglasses he had on.

“He’s here.”

The voice rings out from somewhere behind the camera, distorted by what sounds like a voice modulator. The sudden sound drives a shiver through the cameraman, startling him and causing the camera to shake. As the XWF staff fumbles to stabilize the image, the seated individual rises, walking towards him.

“Welcome, welcome to my pimpin’ palace of debauchery.”

The voice is clear, crisp and rings out over the booming speakers. The dimness of the room slowly alleviates as lights begin to flicker on. The outline of the man infront of the camera begins to develop features and a more distinct outline. With hair dropping down past his shoulders, a piercing gaze and a frame that would scare anyone down the street, Danny Imperial slowly comes into focus in front of you.

However, with the revelation of the identity of this man, so comes the revelation of his attire. Nothing. Well, nothing but a shiny gold belt around his waist, covering his most prized possession from capture by the camera. Unconsciously, the camera drifts down, to capture the full almost naked frame of Danny, before someone clears their throat.

“I ain’t got no type, Timmy, but my eyes are up here.”

The camera quickly jerks up to capture Danny’s face, a wry smile plastered on it. As the other individuals come into view, you notice they’re mostly made up of skimpily clad individuals, ranging from my mind-numbingly beautiful to the meth-head from around the corner. If you had counted seven individuals earlier, you’d have been correct.

“Do you like my lady friends, well and Hector over there, he’s our token non-conventional gender friend. You know, affirmative action and all. If I don’t give beautiful men-who-identify-as-women a chance to please and release their inner sluts, what kind of progressive would I be? I don’t discriminate, no sir!”

The camera tilts slightly to the left and you notice the individual, equally clad in some sexy lingerie, you wouldn’t have guessed she was Trans if you hadn’t just been told. She gives the camera a wink and a wave. The camera slowly turns back to Danny, but he’s already distracted, entertaining one of the girls with hushed whispers. She giggles, placing a hand on top of the belt.

Danny glances down at her hand, his face contorting in anger. His hand flies up to grasp the woman’s wrist, holding it tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. She squeals in pain, dropping to one knee as he pries her hand away from his belt. Danny lowers himself to a knee to match her eye level.

“Did I say you could touch it?”

The woman is confused, still in tremendous amounts of pain she can’t respond except for a whimper. His lips graze against the side of her face, as he asks her once more.

Did
I
Say
You
Could
Touch
It

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She shakes her head widely, apologizing through gritted teeth. Danny releases his hold on her immediately.

“There’s my girl, what was your name? Tiffany? Jacky, get her a pudding cup, she seems a little flustered.”

As if on cue, a pudding cup slips into frame, held by a firm hand. Tiffany, with a look of bewilderment and fear, glances from the pudding cup to the man who’s holding it to Danny.

“Go on take it, it’s chocolate, and we all know chocolate heals everything. This is a place of joy and fun, can’t be gloomy here!”

The last few words come out with a more menacing tone, and Danny rests a palm on the cheek of Tiffany. With a shaking head, Tiffany reaches out for the pudding cup. She takes it and covers it with both hands and forces out a smile.

“See, what’d I say hmmm? Pudding truly solves all.”

Danny gets on his feet, rising to his full height with a smile on his face.

“So what do ya’ think about my place? Different from what you’re used to hm? Well, I thought I needed a little bit of a change y’know? Now that I got… What’s the word for it? Bling like Mr.T. Gotta kick out my inner thug king, with my trap queens all around. Yeah?”

Danny’s palm strokes the front of the title, making it jump a little by flexing… Nevermind.

“It’s just been a couple of days really but I’m already a little attached to this baby. I mean I like booty and uhm, boobies, sure. But nothing’s quite as beautifully arousing as gold and leather around my crotch.”

Another girl walks around Danny, coming up from behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She whispers into his ear but the boom microphone of the camera picks it up.

“Hey sugar, time’s up. You paid us for an hour exactly, and we’ve gotta make a move.”

“Oh yes yes, off you go now ladies, I really only needed you for that ominous entrance. Toodles, make sure you get a basket of chocolate eggs from Jackson at the door. Leftovers from Easter, I couldn’t possibly eat it all. Bye Shanice!”

Shanice places a slobbery wet kiss against Danny’s cheek, claps her hand twice and makes her way off frame. The girls who’d come along with her all follow suit. Danny cheekily smacks Hector’s butt as she walks passed him. His eyes linger on the swaying cheeks of the girls as they walk away and a satisfied sigh escapes him.

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“Hmm, the human body truly is a beautiful sight. Did you like my friends? Jackson gets them for me every once in a while when I’m feeling particularly bored or… unpleasant. See, I’m a man of many pleasures. From the human body to humanity’s best edible… The chocolate pudding cup, I enjoy them all. I travel from Paris to New York, I sail the seas on a full stocked yacht, and I gaze at a new Picasso or Michelangelo every weekend. Commercialization is the death of art many say, but I believe it’s the re-invention of beauty. Rick and Morty, Van Gogh, the ass of a Kardashian and Salvador Dali’s mind. They are all beautiful things, and beauty is one thing I appreciate.”

Danny’s hand returns to his belt, stroking the Television Championship lovingly.

“However the world, and the powers that are, tend to have quite the sense of humor. Art is all about individuality, creativity, free-form and beauty. For example, I signed a contract with the XWF because it has a variety of wrestlers, each with their own style and own personality. Or so I thought.”

Danny frowns dramatically, running a hand through his hair. The well-manicured hands of Jackson pop into the frame to wipe the sweat off Danny’s head.

“My past three matches have been against an insane man aptly named Psycho, and two single bouts against fanatic cultist Tiddybits. Both were clearly out of their mind, one because he probably had twelve different voices in his head and the other because his father’s abused him enough to believe in some higher power that cares about his accomplishments in the ring.

Both times, I came up with a suitable solution. For voices in somebody’s head, it’s a simple matter of knocking that head hard enough to make it work right, similar to smacking the side of a TV when it decides to stop showing you the latest episode of The Apprentice. It works, really. For the fanatic believer, it was a little trickier, I’ll admit. Took me two tries, and a lot of determination, but in the end my good will persevered.

Those who believe in a power that’s led them to where they are and continues to bless them and lead to them to where they will be… Require a simple fix. I myself believed that fate brought me to face Tidbits twice, and saw my dreams come to fruition when I beat him. Had I not beaten him however… I’d have lost faith in fate and destiny. All I needed to do to break Tidbits was show him that his belief was misplaced, that whatever power he felt was a mere placebo… All in his head. The only way to defeat a fanatic is to prove without a doubt that he is delusional.

I did just that.

Back to my point, woops, I seem to have digressed a fair bit. What I was coming to was that this week, I face another man who’s clearly out of his poor little mind. He calls himself Mystica, warps the minds of individuals around him and seems to believe he is a god of some sort. Well… I guess this would make sense if I were in a video game. First I defeat the believer, than I face the belief… Right? Oh my Htaed, Jackson, pen it down, copyright it, we’ll hire some wonderful little programmers fresh out of Full Sail to code it into existence.

Ah, what was I saying again? Psycho… Htaed….Mystica… Video game analogy… Fuck! I lost my train of thought.”

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Immediately there’s a flurry behind the lens, this time you realize it’s Jackson moving to arrange a few papers quickly. Danny’s gaze shifts off the lens and to whatever’s in Jackson’s hands, right outside the frame.

“Right right! Mystica. My deluded little friend, I guess it is appropriate that I face you fresh after my vanquishing of Htaed. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Vanquishing. Yes, after I vanquished Htaed and realized the next individual on my plate was none other than the newly returned, man-child-lady-gender-fluid Mystica. One weirdo to the next, I don’t discriminate.

You’ve won one match since you’re written and my oh my, you got place in a number one contenders match with me for your second? I know you’ve got history as being fairly decent a mid-carder but shouldn’t you at least warm up your celestial bones a little before you dance with me? I’m sure you think being a god and all, this should be a walk in the park, but this isn’t MTV’s celebrity death match love, this is real life.

The rings not going to explode, you’re not going to be able to fly and you most definitely cannot voodoo magic me into submission, you’re going to just walk in that ring, bend over for me and get royally taken by my indescribable machismo. Won’t do too well for your little deity-persona either… I worry for you.”

A look of true concern comes over Danny as he stares straight into the lens. He grabs the side of the camera with one hand and lifts it up to properly centralize on just his face.

“But it’s okay really, the fan’s will have fun, they’ll see their Television champion victorious once more, and you can crawl back into your little cult gathering in your grandmothers basement with your cloaks and what not. Next time you need a game master or someone to help create some tile pieces, I’ll be glad to help you out, friend! Just please stay away from the XWF and take your odd beliefs to someone who cares. ”

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