Post by Slayne on Feb 13, 2022 18:17:01 GMT -5
Michael Bishop, resting at the bottom of the ladder that leads to the makeshift ring.
Savannah Sunshine, still being helped from the massive crash down onto the floor below.
Alyssa Grace, crashed through the tables and unconscious.
The King reaches up and grabs a hold of the title—
All eyes are upon him, one set of cold blue ones in particular.
KAYDEN ELLIS: This is completely sickening, he's soaking in the moment he's gotten.
AND HE HAS PULLED IT DOWN WITH SUCCESSION! THE KING HAS RETAINED THE ASCENSION CHAMPIONSHIP AS THE BELL IS RUNG!
DING! DING! DING!
The chorus to 'Kill Your Masters' is being played out over the speakers as Jason Long holds onto his Project: Honor Ascension Championship. A devious, sickening, and twisted smile grows larger as he holds his championship close to his chest. The crowd within the building are booing loudly as the announcement is made.
CLARA OLSON: HERE IS YOUR WINNER... AND STIILLLLLLLLLL... THE PROJECT: HONOR ASCENSION CHAMPION... THE KING OF IMMORTALITY... JAAAAASSSOONNNNNNNN LOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!
There's clear disgust on everyone's face as the moment is soaked in, the entity has wiped out everyone in his path and has struck down everyone that tried to take what was his. Jason continues to sit up there at the top of the ladder, holding his championship up high as 'Kill Your Masters' continues to play out.
And watching from his seat at the highest point in the arena, Kurtis Slayne expresses a rare smile.
“I must be doing something right. To have Jason Long choose me as his…protege... should speak volumes to everyone else in Project: Underground. I was already familiar with this man, this entity of violence, before making my way to Pittsburgh tonight, but seeing the sheer malice radiating from him in person made my trip worthwhile.”
Kurtis remains in the Peterson Event Center even though Fallout has long been over, and the herd of fans have made their exit. As the crew tears down the ring and entrance set, he sits in the nosebleed seats as his legal counsel, Gideon Marx, focuses a camera upon him.
“I’m usually not one to give in to my emotions, but when I think about what that man, that creature if you will, can teach me, I can’t seem to hold back my excitement. Some people look at Jason and see a ruthless monster, someone who will go to any lengths to be the absolute best at his chosen craft. But when I look at him, I see something different. Yes, I see the beast, but I also see someone who feels emotions twice as strong as a normal person. His rage is amplified, his joy is more powerful, and maybe he even feels the deep cut of love more than the rest.”
Kurtis stares ahead in silent contemplation for a few moments, as if strongly considering his own words.
“I suppose it’s fitting that Project: Underground wants us to share our love stories this week. It’s a cute theme with Valentine’s Day approaching, no matter what your personal beliefs are regarding the holiday. Of course, I see the modern version as a commercialized event to sell heart-shaped chocolates and over-priced roses, but I’m hardly unique in that way of thinking. It’s said that Saint Valentinus was beaten with clubs and stones before finally being beheaded, all for his dedication to courtly love in defiance of the Roman Emperor, Claudius Gothicus. I guess there’s nothing like celebrating martyrdom than by giving cheap gifts and having promiscuous sex, so here’s to love.”
His head tilts slightly to the side as he continues to watch the ring crew, as if they were performing some elaborate routine for his own personal enjoyment.
“One might assume that I’m at a disadvantage this week, considering how I usually prefer to keep my emotions in check. But just like my new mentor, I feel the full range of emotions just like everyone else. Of course I feel hate and joy, but if you think I’m incapable of love, you’re gravely mistaken.”
He pauses long enough to retrieve a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, without giving any thought or care to the building’s smoking regulations.
“I love watching Jason Long play with the emotions of his opponents. I loved breaking my brother’s back. I loved driving Mark Hunter into a fit of uncontrollable rage. I love the taste of my own blood and the look on someone’s face when I twist one of their limbs in a direction it’s not meant to bend. I love the thought of taking a man twice my size, a man like Christopher Graves, and breaking him down until he cries like a newborn baby for the whole world to see. But that’s not the kind of love you want to know about, is it? You want a story about two people feeling so strongly toward each other that being separated brings them physical pain. You want a story about longing, about romance and sexual desire. You want us to take a break from our violent tendencies in order to share our personal versions of ‘The Notebook’.”
Still looking ahead at the half-deconstructed ring instead of directly at the camera, Kurtis takes a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhales.
“Well fuck you. You’re not getting that from me.”
He finally turns to set his ice-blue eyes on the camera lens, staring directly through it and into the souls of the viewers.
“Don’t get me wrong. I have one of those stories. My lips fight a constant temptation to say her name. When I close my eyes, I can still smell her hair as she rests her head on my shoulder. I still hear her voice, whispering secrets in my ear. The memory of her smile brings me more pain than any opponent could inflict on me. The warmth of her blood still stains my hands.”
He pauses again, still staring at the camera as he raises his cigarette for another drag. Wisps of smoke swirl around his head as he slowly exhales, briefly obscuring him in a hazy fog.
“Yes, I have that love story. I relive it on a daily basis, but if you think I’m going to share it with you like some child’s essay assignment, you’re far more psychotic than I am. I don’t give anything away for free, and I certainly don’t share things that can be used against me willingly. So, if the trainers and management team behind Project: Underground are disappointed with my lack of compliance, they can rally behind whatever sob-story Christopher Graves manages to come up with. They can put their money behind him and push him to the moon. By all means, give him every last bit of advice you have to give him an edge over me at the next show. Put him on a poster, push his merchandise, and play his music just a little bit louder than mine. Try to make everyone believe he’s really the G.O.A.T. he claims to be. Do whatever it takes to make sure he has the opportunity to look better than me during the show. Reward him for being a good, little puppet.”
As the smoke around him dissipates, Kurtis flicks the stub of ashes off the end of his cigarette.
“Do everything you can to make him the star at my expense, and then see how well it’s paid off when he’s left bloody and beaten at my feet. When I’ve dislocated a few of his fingers, twisted his ankle one hundred and eighty degrees, and knocked a few teeth out of that overly confident smile of his, I want you to sit Christopher down and ask him a few simple questions. Ask him if it was worth it, if sharing his love story has dulled the pain I inflicted upon him. Ask him how far his willingness to share has taken him. Ask him what love has done for him lately.”
He turns his attention back to the ants as they scurry to roll up the ring ropes and fold the canvas, taking another casual drag.
“You can use all the tired cliches you want, like ‘all is fair in love and war’ or ‘love always wins’. They’re nothing but words. We can compare love and hate all day, debating the merits of one over the other. The truth is, when it comes to hurting someone, doing it physically is easy. But taking what they love and using it to hurt them? That takes skill, the kind of skill that Jason Long sees in me. The kind of skill he’s going to help me harness and take out on the rest of Project: Underground. In the end, my lost love will be a motivation. Christopher’s will be just another weakness for me to exploit.”
He takes a final drag, and with a flick of his finger, the half-smoked cigarette sails several rows below him.
“Sincerest apologies, Project: Underground, but that’s why you’ll never know her name. You won’t know how we met or what attracted us to each other. Our intimate moments will remain a mystery. Our tragic end will be mine to remember and mine alone. Anything less would be to betray myself, to give an opening for lesser individuals to capitalize on. Lesser individuals like Christopher Graves, and that’s simply not an option. What does love have to do with this anyway?”
Kurtis gives the camera one final glance through the tendrils of fading smoke.
“Just like Saint Valentinus’ sacrifice…like Christopher Grave’s hopes and dreams of getting past me…it’s just another false promise. It means everything…and nothing at all.”
Fade to black.
Savannah Sunshine, still being helped from the massive crash down onto the floor below.
Alyssa Grace, crashed through the tables and unconscious.
The King reaches up and grabs a hold of the title—
All eyes are upon him, one set of cold blue ones in particular.
KAYDEN ELLIS: This is completely sickening, he's soaking in the moment he's gotten.
AND HE HAS PULLED IT DOWN WITH SUCCESSION! THE KING HAS RETAINED THE ASCENSION CHAMPIONSHIP AS THE BELL IS RUNG!
DING! DING! DING!
The chorus to 'Kill Your Masters' is being played out over the speakers as Jason Long holds onto his Project: Honor Ascension Championship. A devious, sickening, and twisted smile grows larger as he holds his championship close to his chest. The crowd within the building are booing loudly as the announcement is made.
CLARA OLSON: HERE IS YOUR WINNER... AND STIILLLLLLLLLL... THE PROJECT: HONOR ASCENSION CHAMPION... THE KING OF IMMORTALITY... JAAAAASSSOONNNNNNNN LOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!
There's clear disgust on everyone's face as the moment is soaked in, the entity has wiped out everyone in his path and has struck down everyone that tried to take what was his. Jason continues to sit up there at the top of the ladder, holding his championship up high as 'Kill Your Masters' continues to play out.
And watching from his seat at the highest point in the arena, Kurtis Slayne expresses a rare smile.
“I must be doing something right. To have Jason Long choose me as his…protege... should speak volumes to everyone else in Project: Underground. I was already familiar with this man, this entity of violence, before making my way to Pittsburgh tonight, but seeing the sheer malice radiating from him in person made my trip worthwhile.”
Kurtis remains in the Peterson Event Center even though Fallout has long been over, and the herd of fans have made their exit. As the crew tears down the ring and entrance set, he sits in the nosebleed seats as his legal counsel, Gideon Marx, focuses a camera upon him.
“I’m usually not one to give in to my emotions, but when I think about what that man, that creature if you will, can teach me, I can’t seem to hold back my excitement. Some people look at Jason and see a ruthless monster, someone who will go to any lengths to be the absolute best at his chosen craft. But when I look at him, I see something different. Yes, I see the beast, but I also see someone who feels emotions twice as strong as a normal person. His rage is amplified, his joy is more powerful, and maybe he even feels the deep cut of love more than the rest.”
Kurtis stares ahead in silent contemplation for a few moments, as if strongly considering his own words.
“I suppose it’s fitting that Project: Underground wants us to share our love stories this week. It’s a cute theme with Valentine’s Day approaching, no matter what your personal beliefs are regarding the holiday. Of course, I see the modern version as a commercialized event to sell heart-shaped chocolates and over-priced roses, but I’m hardly unique in that way of thinking. It’s said that Saint Valentinus was beaten with clubs and stones before finally being beheaded, all for his dedication to courtly love in defiance of the Roman Emperor, Claudius Gothicus. I guess there’s nothing like celebrating martyrdom than by giving cheap gifts and having promiscuous sex, so here’s to love.”
His head tilts slightly to the side as he continues to watch the ring crew, as if they were performing some elaborate routine for his own personal enjoyment.
“One might assume that I’m at a disadvantage this week, considering how I usually prefer to keep my emotions in check. But just like my new mentor, I feel the full range of emotions just like everyone else. Of course I feel hate and joy, but if you think I’m incapable of love, you’re gravely mistaken.”
He pauses long enough to retrieve a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, without giving any thought or care to the building’s smoking regulations.
“I love watching Jason Long play with the emotions of his opponents. I loved breaking my brother’s back. I loved driving Mark Hunter into a fit of uncontrollable rage. I love the taste of my own blood and the look on someone’s face when I twist one of their limbs in a direction it’s not meant to bend. I love the thought of taking a man twice my size, a man like Christopher Graves, and breaking him down until he cries like a newborn baby for the whole world to see. But that’s not the kind of love you want to know about, is it? You want a story about two people feeling so strongly toward each other that being separated brings them physical pain. You want a story about longing, about romance and sexual desire. You want us to take a break from our violent tendencies in order to share our personal versions of ‘The Notebook’.”
Still looking ahead at the half-deconstructed ring instead of directly at the camera, Kurtis takes a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhales.
“Well fuck you. You’re not getting that from me.”
He finally turns to set his ice-blue eyes on the camera lens, staring directly through it and into the souls of the viewers.
“Don’t get me wrong. I have one of those stories. My lips fight a constant temptation to say her name. When I close my eyes, I can still smell her hair as she rests her head on my shoulder. I still hear her voice, whispering secrets in my ear. The memory of her smile brings me more pain than any opponent could inflict on me. The warmth of her blood still stains my hands.”
He pauses again, still staring at the camera as he raises his cigarette for another drag. Wisps of smoke swirl around his head as he slowly exhales, briefly obscuring him in a hazy fog.
“Yes, I have that love story. I relive it on a daily basis, but if you think I’m going to share it with you like some child’s essay assignment, you’re far more psychotic than I am. I don’t give anything away for free, and I certainly don’t share things that can be used against me willingly. So, if the trainers and management team behind Project: Underground are disappointed with my lack of compliance, they can rally behind whatever sob-story Christopher Graves manages to come up with. They can put their money behind him and push him to the moon. By all means, give him every last bit of advice you have to give him an edge over me at the next show. Put him on a poster, push his merchandise, and play his music just a little bit louder than mine. Try to make everyone believe he’s really the G.O.A.T. he claims to be. Do whatever it takes to make sure he has the opportunity to look better than me during the show. Reward him for being a good, little puppet.”
As the smoke around him dissipates, Kurtis flicks the stub of ashes off the end of his cigarette.
“Do everything you can to make him the star at my expense, and then see how well it’s paid off when he’s left bloody and beaten at my feet. When I’ve dislocated a few of his fingers, twisted his ankle one hundred and eighty degrees, and knocked a few teeth out of that overly confident smile of his, I want you to sit Christopher down and ask him a few simple questions. Ask him if it was worth it, if sharing his love story has dulled the pain I inflicted upon him. Ask him how far his willingness to share has taken him. Ask him what love has done for him lately.”
He turns his attention back to the ants as they scurry to roll up the ring ropes and fold the canvas, taking another casual drag.
“You can use all the tired cliches you want, like ‘all is fair in love and war’ or ‘love always wins’. They’re nothing but words. We can compare love and hate all day, debating the merits of one over the other. The truth is, when it comes to hurting someone, doing it physically is easy. But taking what they love and using it to hurt them? That takes skill, the kind of skill that Jason Long sees in me. The kind of skill he’s going to help me harness and take out on the rest of Project: Underground. In the end, my lost love will be a motivation. Christopher’s will be just another weakness for me to exploit.”
He takes a final drag, and with a flick of his finger, the half-smoked cigarette sails several rows below him.
“Sincerest apologies, Project: Underground, but that’s why you’ll never know her name. You won’t know how we met or what attracted us to each other. Our intimate moments will remain a mystery. Our tragic end will be mine to remember and mine alone. Anything less would be to betray myself, to give an opening for lesser individuals to capitalize on. Lesser individuals like Christopher Graves, and that’s simply not an option. What does love have to do with this anyway?”
Kurtis gives the camera one final glance through the tendrils of fading smoke.
“Just like Saint Valentinus’ sacrifice…like Christopher Grave’s hopes and dreams of getting past me…it’s just another false promise. It means everything…and nothing at all.”
Fade to black.