Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2021 20:22:07 GMT -5
James Ranger.
Kagome Akaibara.
Images of the two known as ‘Steel & Venom’ flash quickly across the screen. Images of them standing side by side at Collision Course. Images of them being absolutely destroyed, mercilessly at the hands of Lazarus Arjen and Charon Seede. Images of their bodies laid out, prone - broken - defeated on the mat.
The video that played underneath the flashing images was a close up of a particular action. The spade end of a shovel tearing into the ground. The dirt underneath it crunches audibly with every hard stab into the firm ground. Already a good chunk of earth had been removed, lifted away from the hole and poured to the side. There was a subtle track playing ontop of the digging video, “Hack/Slash” by Getter and Ghostmane. The audio was barely even audible, but it was there ...
The images cycled - repeated - over the (presumed) live video of the person, whoever they were, digging into the ground. The speed in which the images flashed increased every start of the cycle. The images began to distort and shift into horrific manipulated photos of Ranger and Akaibara. The audio track also shifted in pitch, the tone lowering to distort the voices into something almost demonic. There was one final stab into the ground, leaving the blade of the shovel buried in the dirt - it was all timed perfectly with the (now, demonic) scream that would end the rap track.
That was when the camera pulled back to show Lazarus Arjen. The lower half of his face was covered with a black bandana that was tied off behind his head. He brought a hand, a sweaty and dirt covered hand, up to the bandana which he tugged down around his neck. He breathed out heavily. His head turned, his eyes shifted, and his focus fell onto the camera.
“This is pretty easy to understand.”
Lazarus said, stepping out of the hole he’s dug.
“Before we carry on with other business that needs to be attended to, myself and Charon find ourselves facing the same team we beat first at Collision Course; Steel and Venom.”
“James, Kagome; welcome home.”
He turned, waving his arm behind him - motioning to the empty field where he stood. The hole he dug just a foot or so behind him, which is where his gaze fell for a moment.
“I try to be an accommodating host. I try to provide you with the most comfortable of quarters for your upcoming eternal slumber; but truthfully? This hole is far too good for either of you. The maggots and worms that will soon feast on your flesh, are higher than either of you on the ‘pecking order’ of life chart.”
“Charon and I, we purposely left you both breathing at Collision Course. Not because we had mercy. Not because we wanted to spare you. We did so because we wanted to toy with you. We wanted you both to continue living - breathing - knowing that somewhere out there, we were there. That somewhere out there, we were watching you. It’s that lingering thought that sticks in the back of your head, haunting you. Making you fear for your life, every fucking day. Making you look over your shoulder at every passing car when you walk down the street, thinking that could be the car we jump out of and fucking cut you down in the middle of the street.”
“Charon and I won’t show up to Fallout with masks on our face - not this time. And when we show up with no masks, there is one thing that can be taken away from that as a guarantee; we’ve come to take your lives. At Collision Course we spared you from fate. Call it an experiment to see how the two of you would react with a new lease on life; but there’s a funny thing about fate. It’s inevitable. The fate that you two share is to feel the unadulterated hate that only men like myself and Charon can manifest. The fate that you two share is to endure more pain, more anguish, and more agony than one person should.”
His voice echoed in the empty void that surrounded him.
“The experiment, though, is over. Us toying with you two lost its appeal almost immediately. The only things left to do, is to stomp your fucking heads in until there’s nothing left but brains and skull fragments on our boots - and to fucking bury you.”
“Welcome home, you two. I hope you find your grave to your liking. If not? Fuck you.”
Lazarus spat with hate. He would turn his attention to someone off camera for a brief moment. He would reach out, his hand leaving the camera frame for a second - only to return with one half of the Project Honor Tag Team Championships gripped tightly. His eyes fell down to the championship as he moved closer to the camera. Stopping, he lifted his head and with his teeth gnashed - he addressed the camera again.
“This is where it rightfully fucking belongs. Charon Seede and I have ripped, torn, and murdered our way through this division since arriving. We’ve eradicated the weak, eliminated the dead weight and carved our fucking names into the tag team foundation here. Julius and Pyro team for a fucking month and luck their way into tag titles. Heh. Luck may have been with them during Collision Course, but their luck has run out. We left them laying motionless and took what was rightfully ours.”
“It’s only a matter of time before we meet again, and I bet you two are salivating waiting for that chance. I will give you this warning; your first and your only.”
“Stay in your fucking lane.”
“Charon and I showed up to Project Honor for one thing, and one thing only. These tag team championships. You two are singles wrestlers playing tag team, and that shit doesn’t sit well with us. And believe me when I say that we’ll do whatever it takes, brutalize anyone in our way and spill gallons of blood if we have to - in order to make these championships ours. We will cut through everyone that we have to, especially you two, to stand at the top of this division of corpses when we’re finished. Even if that means taking Pyro’s ugly ass fucking fiance and driving her face first into the pavement underneath our boots.”
“It. Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter. Who.”
Lazarus was seething. He lowered the championship out of the camera frame, leaving just a close up of his face. Dirt caked in areas around his eyes and forehead. The lower half remained clean from dirt. The thick horseshoe ring through his septum reflected the mixture of camera and moon light. His teeth remained gnashed, grinding together.
“You want them back? Come fucking get them. I don’t mind digging another grave to throw your mutilated bodies into.”
Static end.
Kagome Akaibara.
Images of the two known as ‘Steel & Venom’ flash quickly across the screen. Images of them standing side by side at Collision Course. Images of them being absolutely destroyed, mercilessly at the hands of Lazarus Arjen and Charon Seede. Images of their bodies laid out, prone - broken - defeated on the mat.
The video that played underneath the flashing images was a close up of a particular action. The spade end of a shovel tearing into the ground. The dirt underneath it crunches audibly with every hard stab into the firm ground. Already a good chunk of earth had been removed, lifted away from the hole and poured to the side. There was a subtle track playing ontop of the digging video, “Hack/Slash” by Getter and Ghostmane. The audio was barely even audible, but it was there ...
The images cycled - repeated - over the (presumed) live video of the person, whoever they were, digging into the ground. The speed in which the images flashed increased every start of the cycle. The images began to distort and shift into horrific manipulated photos of Ranger and Akaibara. The audio track also shifted in pitch, the tone lowering to distort the voices into something almost demonic. There was one final stab into the ground, leaving the blade of the shovel buried in the dirt - it was all timed perfectly with the (now, demonic) scream that would end the rap track.
That was when the camera pulled back to show Lazarus Arjen. The lower half of his face was covered with a black bandana that was tied off behind his head. He brought a hand, a sweaty and dirt covered hand, up to the bandana which he tugged down around his neck. He breathed out heavily. His head turned, his eyes shifted, and his focus fell onto the camera.
“This is pretty easy to understand.”
Lazarus said, stepping out of the hole he’s dug.
“Before we carry on with other business that needs to be attended to, myself and Charon find ourselves facing the same team we beat first at Collision Course; Steel and Venom.”
“James, Kagome; welcome home.”
He turned, waving his arm behind him - motioning to the empty field where he stood. The hole he dug just a foot or so behind him, which is where his gaze fell for a moment.
“I try to be an accommodating host. I try to provide you with the most comfortable of quarters for your upcoming eternal slumber; but truthfully? This hole is far too good for either of you. The maggots and worms that will soon feast on your flesh, are higher than either of you on the ‘pecking order’ of life chart.”
“Charon and I, we purposely left you both breathing at Collision Course. Not because we had mercy. Not because we wanted to spare you. We did so because we wanted to toy with you. We wanted you both to continue living - breathing - knowing that somewhere out there, we were there. That somewhere out there, we were watching you. It’s that lingering thought that sticks in the back of your head, haunting you. Making you fear for your life, every fucking day. Making you look over your shoulder at every passing car when you walk down the street, thinking that could be the car we jump out of and fucking cut you down in the middle of the street.”
“Charon and I won’t show up to Fallout with masks on our face - not this time. And when we show up with no masks, there is one thing that can be taken away from that as a guarantee; we’ve come to take your lives. At Collision Course we spared you from fate. Call it an experiment to see how the two of you would react with a new lease on life; but there’s a funny thing about fate. It’s inevitable. The fate that you two share is to feel the unadulterated hate that only men like myself and Charon can manifest. The fate that you two share is to endure more pain, more anguish, and more agony than one person should.”
His voice echoed in the empty void that surrounded him.
“The experiment, though, is over. Us toying with you two lost its appeal almost immediately. The only things left to do, is to stomp your fucking heads in until there’s nothing left but brains and skull fragments on our boots - and to fucking bury you.”
“Welcome home, you two. I hope you find your grave to your liking. If not? Fuck you.”
Lazarus spat with hate. He would turn his attention to someone off camera for a brief moment. He would reach out, his hand leaving the camera frame for a second - only to return with one half of the Project Honor Tag Team Championships gripped tightly. His eyes fell down to the championship as he moved closer to the camera. Stopping, he lifted his head and with his teeth gnashed - he addressed the camera again.
“This is where it rightfully fucking belongs. Charon Seede and I have ripped, torn, and murdered our way through this division since arriving. We’ve eradicated the weak, eliminated the dead weight and carved our fucking names into the tag team foundation here. Julius and Pyro team for a fucking month and luck their way into tag titles. Heh. Luck may have been with them during Collision Course, but their luck has run out. We left them laying motionless and took what was rightfully ours.”
“It’s only a matter of time before we meet again, and I bet you two are salivating waiting for that chance. I will give you this warning; your first and your only.”
“Stay in your fucking lane.”
“Charon and I showed up to Project Honor for one thing, and one thing only. These tag team championships. You two are singles wrestlers playing tag team, and that shit doesn’t sit well with us. And believe me when I say that we’ll do whatever it takes, brutalize anyone in our way and spill gallons of blood if we have to - in order to make these championships ours. We will cut through everyone that we have to, especially you two, to stand at the top of this division of corpses when we’re finished. Even if that means taking Pyro’s ugly ass fucking fiance and driving her face first into the pavement underneath our boots.”
“It. Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter. Who.”
Lazarus was seething. He lowered the championship out of the camera frame, leaving just a close up of his face. Dirt caked in areas around his eyes and forehead. The lower half remained clean from dirt. The thick horseshoe ring through his septum reflected the mixture of camera and moon light. His teeth remained gnashed, grinding together.
“You want them back? Come fucking get them. I don’t mind digging another grave to throw your mutilated bodies into.”
Static end.