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Marlow Raxis · (08-17-2017)

Resting like the dead at his feet, the masked goth girls hummed their praise of their God, Marlow, as he sat perched on a chair watching the day's events unfold, yawning not out boredom; but out of the insecure ignorance that passed for trivial truth of the species he was forced to consort with. Throughout the day, and evening, he observed, listened, and masticated the sullen voices of those in the backstage, and during their in-ring antics, as they spewed nonsense and dreadful boasts of their accomplishments or proposed intentions upon lame subjects they sought to subjugate.

Sighing, he reeled in his anger, locking the monster in rustic chains, letting it build up until it was time to unleash the beast, smiling with it's haunted lips as it stalked about leaving chaos and misery in it's wake. Stepping off his perch, he gently caressed the sleeping beauties with a God-like touch then left the room; walking through the backstage followed by a cameraman. First thought, dispel this nuisance. Second thought, the more feasible one, address the masses.

"If what I've witnessed is the cream of the crop, then I say it's time to boil it down and create a better meal to force down the throats of the fans. I've never been so insulted by the lack of judgement from the fans as they blindly follow the faithless and useless in pursuit of a faux hero. But evolution is to blame, not them."

Grabbing the camera, holding it steady as he peered into the souls via technology, he smiled before saying.

"Or if I'm wrong in my assessment, whom is willing to say so?"

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