Post by americangrime on Dec 15, 2020 19:46:57 GMT -5
A steady stream drips from the ceiling of a concrete room. We see Euan Hill sitting, quietly, alone, in the center of it. He clasps his hands together and bows his head, leaning against the back of a steel chair-pristine condition, undented from the skulls of anyone he’d swung it at.
The feed stutters, and Aurora Ray stands behind him.
“My brother...he is a fiend, is he not?”
Ray circles the chair, Euan seeming unbothered by her presence as she runs her hands through his hair, before returning behind him.
“When The Father found us so long ago, he assumed we were lovers, thrown together by our deviance, bound by a bond that only those so murderous and criminal, so viscerally warped by the whole world around us can share. He sought to isolate us, so as to keep me for his own doting while Euan would feed off the scraps. It was his philosophy-keep The Beast hungry enough that it would war for more, and keep The Girl well cared for so that she would follow your every word.
Euan ate from my plate, so I would implore him-do The Father’s bidding so that we could both feast.
Unfortunately, The Father got us all wrong.”
Aurora places a hand on Euan’s shoulder. He doesn’t move. His cold eyes stare dead into the camera.
“Euan and I, we were never in love. Rather, Euan plucked me from my darkest. In a time where I was suffering, drowning as dark water filled my lungs and throat, Euan ripped me from the ice. He saved me, and I owed him a debt for that, but he would never let me pay. Creatures like us? We don’t understand love, we don’t understand passion, the feeling of a fierce fucking after ages in Heat. We understand one way of speaking, one…lingua franca. As we came from different origins, we could not understand our initial conversation...but we both understood one universal concept.
Violence.
Euan was far more practiced than I was, and he still continues to be so. I do not bloody my hands with the work of a canvas ring unless I feel it needed, but Euan is more than happy to do that work for me. He is my keeper, my protector, my brother. The water of my mother’s womb was not so thick as the blood of the covenant that Euan and I share. Call it symbiosis, call it perversion...away from The Father, and with Lazarus gone but having left us with His Doctrine...we are able to do as we wish. We are able to eat our fill and fulfill the agreement the two of us have carried out since the beginning of our partnership.
What is that agreement, you may ask?”
Aurora pauses. She giggles, before looking over Euan’s shoulder and into the camera.
“To drag the dregs of this world into the light and burn them whole. To expose the filth that coats every permeable surface, from the concrete beneath our feet to the tissue in our lungs, this world is so dirty, so full of grime and disgust...and we will take it no longer. We will wallow in this shame and grease for as long as it takes to cleanse it, but we do not thrive.
Lazarus, God Rest His Soul, he has given us full purchase to do as we desired. No caveats as begged by The Father, no sinfulness forced upon us...all is permitted, all is good, all is well.
All is unleashed. As is my Outcast, Euan Hill.”
Aurora leans in.
“The powers-that-be here at Project Honor have granted Euan a hell of an opportunity, a chance to go for the Warrior Rising Championship. Lazarus, he granted us the privilege to undertake this chance. He granted us the choice to pursue this championship, and we take this opportunity with smiles on our faces and blood pulsing through our veins. Euan and I, we’ve not yet had an opportunity to showcase the true volume of bloodshed that we can output, the true density of grime that floats through the bloodstream of this industry. We want to show you. We want to give you a proper introduction.”
Aurora narrows her eyes.
“Euan Hill, he is a monster. He is flesh torn asunder, proven useless, and shaped into something greater. He is no man, but a tool of wrath, that of The Father, that of Lazarus, that of me. The blood that courses through his veins isn’t just his own, but the blood he has stolen, has wrought from the opponents who dare lock eyes with him, who dare stare deep into his empty glare and find only violence and cold therein. Euan Hill, he is not motivated by glory, so much as he is by punishment. The Father would have us collect Gold to spread our message, but here? Now?
Euan hunts to draw those out who wish for gilded glory, and crush them into dust.”
There is a flash of light, and the chair that Euan sits in has a dent in the center of it. Hill seems unfazed.
“Legion, the girl of many names, many faces, many wants and desires. You seek glory here-similar to when you and Caliban managed to dismantle us in our first outing as a team. The Father’s guidance lead us astray, lead us into your victory, not the other way around. I promise you, Euan remembers the pain you inflicted upon him that night, and he does not take kindly to it. He does not forgive what you’ve done, and he will not forget that agony, but he will take action to correct it. The past cannot be rewritten, of course, and that black splotch will sit upon our record forevermore...but yours is almost as patchy as ours, is it not? Perhaps fate brought the two of us together again, locked in that dance that we call combat, to face off. Perhaps, losing to Caliban and yourself was something greater, something akin to an awakening, one we will take in stride, and revel in the product of. You, of all in this match, should have the biggest chance to topple the Outcast...but you will not.
Your skull will be crushed as though it is naught but air.”
Another flash, and a second dent in the chair.
“And speaking of glory, there is TJ Thompson, yet another eliminated in the first round of that tag team tournament. You, TJ, so desperate to evade blame, aren’t you? We both know that the loss you suffered was on you so much as it was on others, wasn’t it? You and your partners have all the same issue, TJ-bravado. You play up your attitude, show feathers like peacocks, and you pray that the predators watching are too distracted by your diversions to pay attention to the razor-sharp claws you hide at your feet. Rest assured, Euan and I? We’re not prone to distraction, nor to appearance...we focus upon one thing along when we glance upon a competitor. Wear your finest clothing and bring all of the money you wish to throw into the sky.
It will make a wondrous accompaniment to adorn your closed casket after Euan’s caved your skull in.”
A third flash, and a third dent.
“Alex Slayer, the ‘Rated R Reaper’, among many other nicknames. You, Alex, you’re a bit of a journeyman, aren’t you? You travel from land to land, seeking glory and gold, but what do you find? You come up empty-handed more often than not, don’t you? You find yourself grasping at straws while you seek a victory worthwhile. I have had my eyes upon both you and your master, Devon Slayton. I watched Slayton somewhere else, a long while ago, and I watched him struggle, just as you have. You may see this as opportunity, Alex, but what is it truly? A gate. A stopgap to tell you exactly how far you will go, the last dam to break through before you flow across this land like an ocean of fury. Alex, you had so, so much promise, but you’ve unfortunately run afoul here. Your ocean of fury has been stalled, your prime cut short before you reached the mountain-tops.
The only flowing will be your blood dripping to the canvas, and the only mountain-tops you see will be ones that you’re flung from.”
A fourth flash, and another dent. Euan’s knuckles are clenching the back of the chair.
“Daniel Horror...what is there to be said? The chains of legacy carry you forward, but those chains will hold you down, won’t they? We have no legacy, and we seek to unseat you from the place of glory you’ve found. We will break those chains, and wrap them around your throat, choke the life from you. There is so little to be said about you, just a small man behind a larger facade, but it is not enough, not nearly enough to save you from Euan.
He’ll show you oblivion as he beats every bit of blood and breath from that broken body of yours.”
A fifth, and final flash, and the chair’s lid is completely dented, the chair seemingly bent in half. Euan stands up, pressing his foot down into the seat. He’s got a vicious look upon his face.
“And finally...Sarah Roberts. The Champion coming in, the woman to beat. But you’ve gone quiet, Sarah. What’s happened? Cat got your tongue? Silent or not, your blood will provide brilliant ink for us to scrawl our next chapter, for us to make Lazarus proud and carry his legacy onward, as we rip the belt from your grasp and seat it at its rightful place upon Euan’s shoulder.
There is no mercy here. The time for that is long gone.
Now is the time for death.”
Ray glances to Euan, and the two share a sickening smile as Euan glances to the camera, speaking his first words in the promo.
“And death…blooms.”
There’s a flash, and then, nothing.