Post by Syndicate on Nov 24, 2021 0:14:52 GMT -5
THE SANCTUM - UNKNOWN LOCATION
NOVEMBER 17TH, 2021 - 9:44AM
61...62...63...Jesus Christ, how many of these fuckers are there?
The Los Angeles Outlaw, Syndicate, sometimes asks himself that same question when counting Project: Honor roster members, but this time around, he actually gives a shit about the answer. Wearing a white tank top and blue jeans, he finds himself leaning against a cobblestone wall in a makeshift underground prison located...somewhere. Syndicate's usually got a pretty good sense of direction, but as he was hit with a solid dose of chloroform on his way here, he wasn't able to make a mental map of his surroundings this time around. And what urgent need led him to this hellhole? Counting bars on the jail cell doors, of course.
Syndicate pushes back his long blonde hair as he thinks about what brought him to this point. It all started after that rough defeat at the hands of "Furious" Julius Fairweather at Night of Honor. His wife, Sophie, wanted him to quit wrestling for good. JJ Kline, his trusted friend, wanted Syndicate to come and work for his sports agency. The Outlaw was left without a purpose, nothing to fight for, and no one left in his corner. He resigned himself to wandering the streets of Los Angeles, alone, as he tried to figure out a path forward...and it was in that vulnerable state that he was first approached by the Triad, a clandestine group of individuals that purportedly seek to "free" Syndicate's soul...whatever that means.
Syndicate initially dismissed them as stalkers and tried to move on with his life, but the Triad was persistent. They've seemingly been watching him at all hours of the day, even managing to infiltrate the Project: Honor ring crew and confront him backstage. They called his phone every day for weeks on end, demanding that he visit their headquarters in person. They even openly threatened his own wife's safety if he failed to comply. That last tactic finally sent Syndicate over the edge, and on one fateful night in October - just days before his main-event match with Elena DeDraca at Bloodshed - Syndicate was brought to "The Sanctum" for the first time...the very same underground complex he finds himself in today.
The Legacy Champion met with the Triad's leaders: Ucho, the One who Hears...Oko, the One who Sees...and the apparent brains of the entire operation, Ruka. The Triad offered to "rehabilitate" Syndicate - their fancy-schmancy word for teaching him how to fight back against a world that has continually disrespected and taken advantage of him at every turn. To convince Syndicate to accept their offer, Ruka successfully tapped into Syndicate's deepest fear - being forgotten by those around him - and although the Los Angeles Outlaw was extremely close to walking away and calling the police, one fateful moment changed everything.
Bloodbath. Halloween night, Las Vegas. In what others saw as one of the biggest upsets in Project: Honor history, Syndicate managed to knock off "The British Raven", Elena DeDraca, and capture the Legacy Championship. Buzzing from the career-defining victory, Syndicate went home to Los Angeles and expected his life to be better...but nothing had changed in the slightest. Sophie was as unsupportive as ever. JJ only seemed to care about the extra profits that came with becoming champion. And just like the last time Syndicate was left to his own devices, the Triad came in and took advantage of the new Legacy Champion's emotions to draw him even closer. Syndicate was on top of the world...but his newfound success only distracted from the true threats around him. Blinded by the desire to remain champion at all costs, he returned to "The Sanctum" and gave in to the Triad's wishes.
That leads us to now, with Syndicate being forced to tally up a seemingly endless amount of iron bars. He was given three "trials" by Ruka, with each meant to contribute towards his "rehabilitation". First, he was told to incapacitate three defenseless men that had, in Ruka's words, directly contributed towards Syndicate's negative perception. Then, he had to escape from a gigantic underground maze, with the intention being for him to practice breaking free from his oppressors. And finally...counting jail bars. The Triad leaders hadn't provided any explanation for this one, but Syndicate's convinced that it's just meant to bore him to death. He's already lost track of his tally multiple times, and as he finishes mentally going through the past few months...Syndicate realizes that he's lost count again.
Glancing upward, Syndicate notices the security camera in the upper corner of the hallway - the very camera that this footage is being taken from. A cold, dead smile spreads across his face he immediately slips into his "showman" persona - something he often does when in the presence of a camera lens.
The Los Angeles Outlaw, Syndicate, sometimes asks himself that same question when counting Project: Honor roster members, but this time around, he actually gives a shit about the answer. Wearing a white tank top and blue jeans, he finds himself leaning against a cobblestone wall in a makeshift underground prison located...somewhere. Syndicate's usually got a pretty good sense of direction, but as he was hit with a solid dose of chloroform on his way here, he wasn't able to make a mental map of his surroundings this time around. And what urgent need led him to this hellhole? Counting bars on the jail cell doors, of course.
Syndicate pushes back his long blonde hair as he thinks about what brought him to this point. It all started after that rough defeat at the hands of "Furious" Julius Fairweather at Night of Honor. His wife, Sophie, wanted him to quit wrestling for good. JJ Kline, his trusted friend, wanted Syndicate to come and work for his sports agency. The Outlaw was left without a purpose, nothing to fight for, and no one left in his corner. He resigned himself to wandering the streets of Los Angeles, alone, as he tried to figure out a path forward...and it was in that vulnerable state that he was first approached by the Triad, a clandestine group of individuals that purportedly seek to "free" Syndicate's soul...whatever that means.
Syndicate initially dismissed them as stalkers and tried to move on with his life, but the Triad was persistent. They've seemingly been watching him at all hours of the day, even managing to infiltrate the Project: Honor ring crew and confront him backstage. They called his phone every day for weeks on end, demanding that he visit their headquarters in person. They even openly threatened his own wife's safety if he failed to comply. That last tactic finally sent Syndicate over the edge, and on one fateful night in October - just days before his main-event match with Elena DeDraca at Bloodshed - Syndicate was brought to "The Sanctum" for the first time...the very same underground complex he finds himself in today.
The Legacy Champion met with the Triad's leaders: Ucho, the One who Hears...Oko, the One who Sees...and the apparent brains of the entire operation, Ruka. The Triad offered to "rehabilitate" Syndicate - their fancy-schmancy word for teaching him how to fight back against a world that has continually disrespected and taken advantage of him at every turn. To convince Syndicate to accept their offer, Ruka successfully tapped into Syndicate's deepest fear - being forgotten by those around him - and although the Los Angeles Outlaw was extremely close to walking away and calling the police, one fateful moment changed everything.
Bloodbath. Halloween night, Las Vegas. In what others saw as one of the biggest upsets in Project: Honor history, Syndicate managed to knock off "The British Raven", Elena DeDraca, and capture the Legacy Championship. Buzzing from the career-defining victory, Syndicate went home to Los Angeles and expected his life to be better...but nothing had changed in the slightest. Sophie was as unsupportive as ever. JJ only seemed to care about the extra profits that came with becoming champion. And just like the last time Syndicate was left to his own devices, the Triad came in and took advantage of the new Legacy Champion's emotions to draw him even closer. Syndicate was on top of the world...but his newfound success only distracted from the true threats around him. Blinded by the desire to remain champion at all costs, he returned to "The Sanctum" and gave in to the Triad's wishes.
That leads us to now, with Syndicate being forced to tally up a seemingly endless amount of iron bars. He was given three "trials" by Ruka, with each meant to contribute towards his "rehabilitation". First, he was told to incapacitate three defenseless men that had, in Ruka's words, directly contributed towards Syndicate's negative perception. Then, he had to escape from a gigantic underground maze, with the intention being for him to practice breaking free from his oppressors. And finally...counting jail bars. The Triad leaders hadn't provided any explanation for this one, but Syndicate's convinced that it's just meant to bore him to death. He's already lost track of his tally multiple times, and as he finishes mentally going through the past few months...Syndicate realizes that he's lost count again.
Glancing upward, Syndicate notices the security camera in the upper corner of the hallway - the very camera that this footage is being taken from. A cold, dead smile spreads across his face he immediately slips into his "showman" persona - something he often does when in the presence of a camera lens.
Syndicate: You know, I’ve been accused of a lot of things...but being sane isn’t one of them.
The Legacy Champion chuckles to himself - spending the last few days under the watchful eye of the Triad had certainly sapped much of the rationality he had left.
Syndicate: You may be asking yourself, why did I volunteer to waltz into enemy territory, one night after fighting for my damn life in the Purge match on Fallout, and compete in Mall Mayhem - on a show that I've had ZERO appearances on before now? That's the kind of thing that a desperate man, fighting for a contract, would do...but a man on MY level, with the kind of success that I’ve already found on my own brand? I must be fuckin’ crazy...or, maybe I’m doing all you punks a favor.
Syndicate: Now, I don’t pay attention to y’all very often, but when I do decide to tune in on Fridays, I always see the same damn thing: sheltered competitors working in a bubble-wrapped environment, all so that the company can milk more money out of you. You go out there, you wrestle your bog-standard singles and tag-team matches, and at the end of the night, you get to fly home right away and spend quality time with your family. Living the dream, right? Well, that depends on the dream. Are you satisfied with being “safe”? Are you cool with hitting the figurative ceiling and not being able to break through? Are you okay with playing second-fiddle to a more engaging, higher-rated brand? If the answer to any of those questions is “yes”, then perhaps you’re in the right spot...or, maybe someone just needs to open your eyes. The world you live and operate in isn’t a realistic one - like The Truman Show, Rock Johnson and Indy Darling have carefully constructed an inescapable dome, one where you can live out your fantasies, rap like a 5-year-old, worship Cthulhu - whatever strikes your fancy. But out here, in real life? You’re lucky if you survive past a few days. So yeah, by showing up at Mall Mayhem, I’m doing you all a favor...because even though I may be walking onto YOUR show, you’re all gonna find myself in MY world. A world without rules or regulations...and one where I’m not afraid to cut a bitch to get what I want.
Syndicate: I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you. When I wake up in the morning, get out of bed, and walk downstairs to make myself some breakfast, there are exactly two things on my mind: “what kind of eggs do I want?”...and “who’s ligaments am I going to tear tonight?” Even though I may be one of the best pure competitors on this planet, my buddies over at Fallout will be the first to tell you that I’m not one to put on a technical masterpiece and call it a day. After all, why would I...when I could just knock you the fuck out instead? You may disagree with my approach, sure, but you cannot deny the success that it’s brought me, and now? I’m walking into enemy territory, not hoping to find success...but to display success, in its purest form. I didn’t sign up for Mall Mayhem, hunting for an opportunity - I AM the opportunity. And if you want a piece of YOUR Legacy Champion, then you can get in line, because this Black Friday...I’ll be offering plenty of bone-breaking doorbusters for anyone who wants ‘em.
Pushing off from the wall, the Los Angeles Outlaw cracks his knuckles, as if he's subconsciously preparing himself for a fight.
Syndicate: Of course, I’m sure there are plenty of people on the Proving Ground roster that are just itching to get their hands on the Legacy Champion, but don't you worry - I've got some grudges to settle, too. First person on my shopping list? The man that’s most assuredly going to try and take credit for my title win at Bloodbath...Ozymandias. You’ve got a lot going for you, Ozy: you’re a beast that’s absolutely dominated all of your challengers thus far, and if your Legacy Champion wasn’t also in this match, I’d be foolish to bet on anyone other than you. But I see through the charade that you’re putting on. You allow yourself to descend into madness, into a state where anger takes over your body and soul, and you are bound to the mantra of “all men must fall”. But anger, Ozy...anger can be exploited. Fury can be harnessed into a powerful weapon, one where the holder never truly has control. You’ve lasted this long as Grand Champion, and no one on this roster has been able to take advantage of your one true weakness, but I’ve made a career out of doing just that, and I’m not about to stop now. The only reason you’ve been so dominant is because you’ve got no real competition...but at Mall Mayhem, you’ll finally meet the man that’ll be your undoing.
Syndicate: Is this truly the state of affairs on Proving Ground? Am I, Syndicate, truly the last, great hope to dethrone the almighty Butcher of Reine? Ozy, you said in your “press conference” after Clash for the Cup that Indy Darling should “send someone that can finish the job.” Is that really what you want? Because if so...you’re fuckin’ looking at him. I’m not like all the other losers around here - I’m not someone to get overconfident and make a mistake, because I DON’T make mistakes...I make victims. So yeah, Ozy, if you wanna find me - if you want to get your hands on the man that holds the ONE prize that you cannot attain - then come find me at Ragstock, because you’re yesterday’s news now that the Los Angeles Outlaw is in town.
The Legacy Champion takes a moment to try and resume his task, but it's no use - now that he's started thinking about the wars he'll soon have with the Proving Ground roster, there's no chance he'll be able to focus on anything else.
Syndicate: There is one man here on PG that I do actually have a bit of history with...history that I sure as hell haven’t forgotten. MYOJIN...long time, no see. You may not remember me, but god damn it, I remember you. That smug little face of yours, smiling down on me when you beat me for the XHF Junior Heavyweight title last January...that image has stuck with me to this very day. Why? Because you’re the one man that’s managed to elude me. You were the singular blemish on my record during my final days with the XHF Network and the World Wrestling eXistence, and before I was able to track you down and get my revenge, the world changed...and I changed with it. I’ve since learned that losses aren’t meant to be dwelled upon, and that you beat me for that title all those months ago because I failed to see you for the competitor that you truly were. I’m not going to make that mistake again. You got lucky that I was drafted over to Fallout, MYOJIN, but that luck is about to run out, because I’ll be damned if I don’t track you down inside Mall of America and teach you why you NEVER should have messed with the Los Angeles Outlaw.
Syndicate: You may be X-Factor Champion over here, but you know what that tells me? It tells me that you’re settling. You have the talent to be SO much more than you currently are, and while you may have won a shitton of matches here in Project: Honor, none of that means anything if you’ve got nothing to show for it. Take my career here, as an example: it only took me ten matches to work my way up to the top of the food chain. You? You’ve spent almost thrice that time doing FUCK ALL other than getting that X-Factor title as a consolation prize. Is that really good enough for you? Do you truly aspire to just be another name in a long list of names on this roster? If the answer is no, MYOJIN, that’s fine...but I suggest you give a close examination to the people above you in the pecking order. Because I have not only surpassed you - I walked into YOUR house, into YOUR company, and passed you the fuck by. You wanna change that? Go ahead. I’ll be waiting for ya at the Mall. You wanna hash things out, just swing on by whenever’s convenient for you...and I’ll finally put out "the Shining Star".
He's abandoned all semblance of calmness, and is now actively pacing back-and-forth past the jail cell doors as he speaks.
Syndicate: Outside of those two, though...man, slim pickings. You’ve got the rest of the Fallout contingent hopping on over - Long, Havoc, Fairweather, Castle - and while I’m sure they’ve got their own targets in this match, part of me wonders if they think they’ll have better luck on a brand that isn’t currently being dominated by the Los Angeles Outlaw. There’s Emmanuelle, a strong up-and-comer that has her head so far up her own ass that she can’t see the apocalypse that’s coming her way. Lil’ Petey is - and this is a diplomatic way of saying it - a fucking fraud, and he doesn’t belong anywhere near a wrestling ring, let one one that I already occupy. Oh, and then there’s Swindle Shelldrake, a man that’s spent so much time travelling from company to company that he doesn’t know what it feels like to be thoroughly outclassed by someone that you can’t just run away from. Other than that, though...eh? Sorry, I don’t mean to be anti-climatic, but this is REALLY the best that Proving Ground has to offer? I can see why Indy Darling needed some of us Fallout folk to join in, because it’s clear to me that none of y’all are managing to draw a dime. So treat this as an early Christmas gift, straight from the hands of YOUR Legacy Champion, because I’ll be out there roaming the Mall, waiting to see who has the guts to step up. I can sign you an autograph, or I can beat your ass into a pulp and serve it at Jamba Juice...the choice is yours.
Syndicate: I’m not a liar, Proving Ground, and I certainly don’t wait for opportunity to come knocking on my door. When I say that I’m going to waltz into the Mall of America, do some shopping, and beat people down along the way...I’m not fucking kidding. So many of my peers have chosen to sit out of this Mall Mayhem match, and for what? Because they’re afraid they’ll be “too injured” after the Purge to make it to Bloomington? Bullshit. They’re just too afraid to be embarrassed. Me? My title’s not on the line here - I’ve got nothing to lose by coming here and showing everyone on this brand who the TRUE ALPHA of Project: Honor really is. The way I see it, it’s 11:59pm on Thanksgiving night, and right outside those doors is an unstoppable force that Proving Ground cannot possibly contain. You’re being presented with the ULTIMATE Black Friday deal, one where you’ll get free, uninterrupted time with the Los Angeles Outlaw and YOUR Legacy Champion. We’ll see if any of you live long enough to take advantage of it. Welcome...to the Syndicate.
?: Mr. Irvine.
The Legacy Champion looks to his right, where he sees none other than Los Angeles's leading asshole, Ruka, walking down a flight of concrete stairs. Wearing a black cloak that obscures the top half of his face, along with blue jeans and black boots, the mastermind of the Triad approaches Syndicate with a calm, collected demeanor - as of now, this is the man that directly controls Syndicate's fate.
Ruka: I trust your third trial is coming along well?
Syndicate: Yep, I've got them all tallied up.
Ruka: Well, that's very good. What is your final count?
Syndicate smirks and raises a middle finger at Ruka, prompting an exasperated sigh.
Syndicate: One.
Ruka: We gave you simple instructions, Mr. Irvine.
Syndicate: You think I give a shit?
The Legacy Champion takes a step towards his voluntary captor.
Syndicate: You know, I came here under the pretense that you would help me find my place in this world. You made it seem like you'd solve all my problems, but goddamn it, all you've done is introduce new ones. You've chloroformed me, you've made me attack innocent bystanders, and now, you're wasting my fucking time. What's the point of all this, huh? Is this some kind of trick to soften me up before the Purge, because I tell ya, it's working like a charm!
Ruka: We must ask for your patience as we continue through this process. Rehabilitation takes time.
Syndicate: Yeah, that's all well and good, Ruka, but what the FUCK does any of this have to do with "rehabilitation"? What the hell does that REALLY mean?
Ruka: Our goal is to improve your life, Mr. Irvine, and nothing more.
Syndicate: Bullshit. You haven't provided a single reason why you suddenly care about me, and every time I ask, you dodge the damn question.
Ruka: There is a time and place for that discussion, absolutely, but now is not -
Syndicate: FUCK OFF.
Syndicate steps forward and violently pushes Ruka into one of the metal cell doors. Ruka yells out in pain, but his attacker doesn't have any sympathy for his plight.
Syndicate: I'm done playing your little games and listening to your riddles. You're going to tell me what's really going on here, RIGHT NOW, or I'll make sure you never make it out of this prison again.
Ruka coughs, and as he does, a speck of blood shoots out onto the Los Angeles Outlaw's tank top.
Ruka: We're trying...to help you...
Syndicate: Yeah, well you're doing a shit job of that. Explanation, now.
Ruka: And if I don't? You don't have the balls to kill me.
Syndicate: Try me.
Silence. Neither man is giving an inch - Ruka doesn't want to spill the beans, and Syndicate won't let up until he does. Desperate to get answers, Syndicate presses his right forearm against the front of Ruka's neck.
Syndicate: You've got three seconds until I choke you out and leave you for dead.
Ruka still isn't talking.
Syndicate: One...two...
The Legacy Champion pushes even harder against the Triad leader's windpipe, prompting a desperate gasp for air.
Syndicate: Thr-
Ruka: You...you've passed...
Syndicate: ...what?
He pushes off on Ruka's shoulder once again before releasing the pressure and backing up, giving Ruka a few seconds to cough up more blood, breathe, and collect himself.
Ruka: ...you've passed the third trial, Mr. Irvine.
Syndicate: The hell does that have to do with anything? I didn't give you anything close to a correct count.
Ruka: Yes, but that wasn't the actual test. We wanted to see how you would react to an unwinnable situation, one where violence was clearly the most efficient solution. Instead of completing the task normally, you instead chose to threaten my life in your quest for answers, and thus...you have survived the final trial.
Syndicate brushes back his blonde hair, both confused and frustrated by Ruka's statement.
Syndicate: You still haven't given me those answers, though.
Ruka: Correct...but luckily, the time to discuss such matters is now upon us.
Still coughing between every few words, Ruka gestures towards the stairwell.
Ruka: Come. Let's talk about your future.
The Triad leader stumbles over and begins climbing the stairs out of the dungeon, beckoning for the Los Angeles Outlaw to follow. Syndicate breathes heavily as he considers his options, before taking a deep breath and following the man he almost choked out. As the two men leave, the security camera footage from the cobblestone hallway is completely dissolved by static.
