09-06-2014, 01:32 AM
I sit within my throne. A dozen of my 6,987,459 brothers (just for you Azrael) light up the night with torches ablaze, dressed in black hoods. The light of the flaming torches lights my face but for only a fleeting moment within several moments.
Like two giant titans of the squared circle.
Set to go one on one.
Strike.
Punch.
Counterstrike.
Counter punch.
Quick jabs.
A duck and a miss.
Followed by a knee in the gut.
As more time passes and we edge closer and closer to Monday Night Madness at the Coliseum in Los Angeles, I feel like my roguery, my ability to stray from my typical game plan has served me well. What we have here, is an epic battle between the light of the skies and the darkness that lives and feeds within the very hearts and souls of all humanity.
Azrael Erebus has no clue, no fucking idea, what he's up against. He's been quite lackadaisical this week. As if his two fluke victories with their attached asterisks have given him a sense of security when facing me. In the light of day, against any normal everyday human opponent, Azrael's sense of self would be accurate. He is damn good at what he does in that ring. I'd never deny him that. We may be opponents, but I can also reality for what it is. What he's not remembering, for one reason or another, is that I'm not just any normal everyday human opponent. I'm the King of fucking Darkness.
I'm methodical. I work slowly while I completely destroy you from top to bottom, then all the way up again.
I'm typically quiet. Only choosing to speak at length when the moment pleases me to do so. I have to say, I'm pleased to speak this week. Far too often, I find it unnecessary to address my opponent. Why? Because they're not worth my time. That's not to say that I have nothing to say.
That's changed.
I feel like, so much time has passed and many of the newcomers to the Federation are just now catching a glimpse of what lives deep within me. A deep seated need for greatness, accompanied by a determination to cause complete destruction of another human being within that ring.
It's what I do. It's fun to me. To watch another human being talk their talk all week long only to have to face me man to man at the end of it all. To make my entrance and watch as their stomach starts to turn before my very eyes. It's an adrenaline rush. It warms my cold, darkened heart to smell the fear oozing from their very pores.
Stars of today and tomorrow of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, come forth. Talk your big games all week long. At the end of the week, your destiny arrives. At that instant, it becomes no longer about the talk, but of the action. Talking shit on your King of Darkness is easy. What's not easy is when that bell rings and I stand across the ring from you. All of your words echo within your ears. It's that 'oh shit' moment when you have to put your fist where your mouth is and fight me.
It's certainly much easier to talk about than to actually accomplish defeating me. Like I've said, ask anyone that's ever faced me. They'll tell you the truth about it all. They walk out completely different than they walk in.
Win or lose, the end result always stays the same. They change. Some fade to dust after being completely and utterly destroyed. Some become better, stronger competitors for it. Azrael Erebus fits the latter category.
Quote:"Then there's Sebastian Duke, now he's Enigma's older (half) brother, though I personally think Duke got all the looks. Now, Sebastian is a complex fellow, interpreting him is like peeling an onion. Just when you've peeled back one layer, there's another just waiting to be seen and I don't have several hours to get in depth, so lets go with the obvious. He's a cold, calculating man with a legion of followers and a fondness for the shadows. Preferring to be the strong, silent type, words aren't his best quality but luckily his size and strength make up for that. That's not to say Duke is an idiot, he's smarter than most actually. He can sit and plan for months and make your destruction look like a work of art. He's a brilliant man and in a lot of ways a savant. But not everyone can be perfect and the gift of gab isn't one of Duke's strong suits. However, silence is a virtue and in the life he leads, shrouded in darkness...it's an asset. So not being a chatterbox who expresses how he'll destroy you fifty plus ways past Sunday, while accenting such talk with witty remarks and clever quips, isn't a problem. No, your problem is when Duke is standing across from you in that ring. When his eyes catch yours and just briefly, you feel the transference of everything he's seen and done. It's in that moment, you realize, you're fucked and Duke's going to be that driving force behind it. Yeah, that's fear you'll be feeling and it'll be ten times more real, than any hallucination or dream you've had, Vinnie."
Azrael's own words from Relentless echo on amplified speakers somewhere on the grounds of the Compound.
Azrael's own words. Just a short time ago. No truer words have ever been spoken of me and Azrael, I sincerely thank you for that. Since you seem to know me that well, then you have no doubt in your mind what you are about to face.
The camera zooms on the King of Darkness.
Cum omnibus dictis et factis, Azrael Erebi ab insania, quod est in manu tua, disces Regem tenebrarum. Et gratulabor tibi victoria levo manum meam. Victis gaudium tu nosse me. Sed, mi amice, cognoscite dolore repulsae manus accipere.
When it is all said and done, Azrael Erebus, on Madness, you will learn what it is to be defeated by your King of Darkness. You will shake my hand and congratulate my victory. You've known the joy of defeating me. Now, my friend, you learn to accept the sting of defeat at my hands.