Post by Swindle Shelldrake on Mar 30, 2022 14:47:22 GMT -5
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---| P r o v i n g G r o u n d |---
33
---| F o o l s R u s h I n |---
T h e K r a k e n
S w i n d l e S h e l l d r a k e
---| T h e S w o r d o f D a m o c l e s |---
---| C h a p t e r O n e: |---
---| N u c l e a r F i r e |---
And a man with his pride, had god created
After his own image and likeness
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---| S W I N D L E |---
---| M i n d K i l l e r |---
Steps quietly clack across the pavement. The camera obscures the face, only showing flashes of well-polished dress shoes and thin black suit trousers as they stride along. A cold wind whisks past with an icy squeal, the quiet of the world feeling stranger by the moment before the sound of a prolonged inhale takes over. A disembodied choir of voices silently call out a number.
One.
The clunking sounds of a wrestling ring echo throughout, as if every step of the man creates tiny aftershocks of the soundscape of a wrestling match. The sharp clap of a referee counting a pinfall merges with the next two numbers. Other voices join in in rapturous excitement as they narrate the battle.
Two.
Three.
[V.O.]: “The animosity is palpable!”
Four.
Five.
Six.
[V.O.]: “Both competitors are so evenly matched here!”
The camera changes to a close up angle of the man’s eyes. Piercing dark orbs with the shock of a fringe like lightning cutting over his face. The voices grow louder, as the counts become more hurried and energetic.
[V.O.]: “Wait a minute….is that?....”
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
NINE!!
TEN!!!
[V.O.]: “Unbelievable! After coming this far….”
The voice dies down as The Kraken reaches a stop to enter a revolving door with a swish of the glass frame. The camera waits outside and plans up the tall highrise building, scanning over the army of tinted-black glass panels that line the outside walls like sentries. Another voice speaks over the scene, one that is more familiar to the man in question, deep, measured, and introspective.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “What’s this about Shelldrake, then?”
ROLAND RAITH [V.O.]: “That’s part of what I called you here for…..”
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---| VIRGIL |----
---| P e r s p e c t i v e: T h e F i r s t |---
The well-dressed, mustached man sat down in the pristine leatherback chair facing his manager’s desk. Looking over to the otherside, the stern face of Roland Raith looking back at him, the head manager of Tetran Kai Dojo. He is adorned in a smarter suit than usual, with a simple white shirt, black tie. He sits forward with his fingers interlocked as he leans his elbows on the desk. Murmuring thoughtfully, Roland looks over to his hired gun. Virgil takes in the slight uncertainty to his manager’s expression. Despite the steely pokerface, there was a pained hesitance to his words and his demeanor in general, when he had been direct with his goals to him before.
Something had gone on. And he wanted to find out what.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Did it bubble over again?”
ROLAND RAITH: “...That’s one way to put it. The line has been crossed this time, Mr. Barrick. He’s become too much of a liability on my end. The amount of times I have Project: Honor’s pundits setting emails and tweets about safety of the roster with Shelldrake around. The level of insubordination…I’m starting to think if it is really worth the trouble when I could find a different prospect to back”.
Barrick paused and observed for a moment, careful with his words, but no less blunt. The camera lingers on him for a moment before cutting momentarily to Swindle inside the elevator. The lights in the small metal coffin now falling eerily dim in their slight disrepair and neglect. The only significant light coming from the rolling strips of light through the floors, watching as they peer through the smallest of cracks in the elevator door, making him blink every so often from the brightness as they roll over his eyes.
His expression is contained, even with the slight shake in his hand as it balled up in a fist. The dark eyes darted over to the digital numbers over the button board, watching as the numbers slowly and gradually ticked up. Each floor feels like an extra lifetime between the next.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “I’m struggling to see how that’s a problem for you now. He’s not someone who hides that as his method”.
The scene cuts back where Roland’s gaze meets Virgil. The Smooth Operator could tell that he wanted to fire back with something, something charged on the nerve in the moment, but elected not to. Virgil only smiles ever so slightly, while maintaining his stoic composure. He scouted out Roland by asking the question, a question that he was more involved in the fate of than what he hoped his boss would realise.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Are you getting rid of him?”
Roland remains silent, squeezing his fingers together tighter until his knuckles turn white. Virgil was perplexed. He had started his journey with Tetran Kai on the basis of a stronger relationship and communication than this, and for an internal purpose. This closing-off wasn’t what he would usually have to contend with.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “What did you say the last time he was here?”
ROLAND RAITH: “I gave him a decision to make….”
The scene cuts back to the elevator where the shaking hand of Swindle busies itself by producing a small coin from his suit pocket. He inspects it with his finger, brushing over the engraving. It was a fifty pence piece, and wasn't even legal tender in the country. Absent-mindedly, he rolled it around in his fingers for a moment.
The camera cuts to a close up shot of just his eyes for a moment as he looks down at the coin resting in his hand. The scrolling lights scanning the brown of his eyes in the moody shadowed box.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “And?”
ROLAND RAITH [V.O.]: “I gave him the terms. He didn’t meet them in the end”.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O]: “Him losing the match.…”
Swindle’s eyes squint as he focuses further, partially keeping his eyes locked to the coin, while also looking into the middle distance with a vacantness to his eyes. His thumb spikes up as the coin lets out a clear ringing tone, all other noise from the elevator falling completely silent in the mix. The vibrations of the small silver coin echoing out and overlapping into itself.
The scene cuts back again to the office room, with added intensity to Barrick’s eyes, matching that of Shelldrake’s.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “You didn’t see how he lost, did you?”
The twitch of Roland’s neck in a motion to question Barrick’s comment, tells more than the words that follow.
ROLAND RAITH: “Does it matter? He didn’t provide what he’s been preaching all this time. I don’t want to get rid of him, but he’s left me no other choice”.
The Project: Underground wrestler can’t help but draw a withheld smile to his face.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Coming from someone who doesn’t dissuade the absolutes of haves and have nots, I beg to differ here. With respect, this was nothing that the overall package of Swindle Shelldrake wouldn’t bring you. For all the deceit he preaches, the ending result is plain as day. He reaps what he sows for his own advancement, that has been the deal since long before you hired me”.
“If he walked in here with the X-Factor Championship, would that make any difference to you? The idea was to push him further and further, even if in your methodology, meant moving the goalposts. I don’t see how getting rid of him helps that”.
The coins turns in the air with every revolution slowing down to a fraction of a second, stretched out into a painstakingly slow dance.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Did you say that you would fire him?”
ROLAND RAITH: “Yes”.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Failure on its own standing isn’t why you should get rid of him. You don’t really want to, but now you’re backed into the corner”.
ROLAND RAITH: “I know that! You’re lucky that falling to a TikTok boxer hasn’t already got you to the boot too”.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “You won’t get rid of both of us. The entire expansion was meant to be built on this unstable ground you dug. If you have to call your own bluff, then that’s not a good look for you”.
Roland scowls at the decision put before him by his own hurriedness and emotional outburst to his top star, now being cornered again by his rookie signing. Virgil say back in his chair, content with the position and leverage he had over Roland. While he was hired to be a foil to Swindle in this tangled web of mind games to push The Kraken, he saw his own future in Tetran Kai, with or without Swindlee he was much more secure in trying to keep him there, or fine tune Roland’s frustrations to anyone that wasn’t him.
Meanwhile, Swindle’s eyes zone in to focus on the coin as it falls, catching it in his palm and tightly closing his fist, so much so that his knuckles start to turn white.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “It’s not him that made a decision, Mr. Raith. It’s you that needs to make the choice….”
The short ring of the elevator chimes as it slows to a halt, Swindle’s fist remaining closed tight. He leaves the fate of the coin toss unanswered as the scene cuts to black.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O]: “Choosing what your word is worth in this brand new world”.
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---| S W I N D L E |---
---| S a n d c a s t l e |---
One of the most stacked and anticipated Proving Ground cards is raging on. With a level of big matches rivaling that of a Pay-Per-View, the crowd at Cancun go nuts for the entrance theme of the Grand Champion Arata Asakura. Backstage, the music is pounding out into the open air of the beach while a media interview area is established with several pro wrestling journalistic outlets making their presence known for such a marquee event.
However, the ambient muttering of the press pool cuts out in a murmuring silence with the champion’s music playing, as the tall, lanky frame of The Kraken peers through the curtain and slowly plodding up to the table. His body bears the bruises of a hard-fought battle, with his eyes holding the vacant impact of the unsuccessful challenge. He takes his time to finally reach the microphone stands, taking his seat.
Swindle sits there for a good few moments and looks out to the bundle of writers and their accompanying cameramen. None of them get a direct stare from Shelldrake, but are caught in hesitation instead of their surge of questions.
The Kraken winces and lifts up the entrance helmet he wore for the match. The large ‘X’ visor covering the eyes now lacks the neon blue glow of its lights. Dropping it with a gentle clunk to the table, the long tendril cables splaying out and dangling over the front.
Gingerly, one of the reporters stands and speaks.
REPORTER: “Mr. Shelldrake, what are your thoughts after coming up short for the X-Factor Championship?”
He shudders as The Kraken’s eyes flicker over to zone in on his lone form standing amongst the sitting sheep. While a more imposing figure like Ozymandias would invoke a pure terror with such attention, Swindle draws out a more conniving darkness to his eyes. Mixed with the fresh emotion of the match just gone, and the lack of metal clasped over his shoulder, the silence he elects to say speaks louder than he could.
His expression doesn’t change, but he does finally release the poor reporter from the paralytic gaze as he leans down to one side, fiddling to remove his wrestling boot. Between the helmet and where he would have rested the X-Factor Championship, Swindle upturns the boot to pour out a sad sputter of sand onto the table.
It comes to a rest in a small dust pile, with Swindle shaking the last few grains out before he drops the boot next to it. Another round of silent torture begins as the reporters all wait in anticipation. Swindle’s breath gradually returns to him after the grueling match, speaking quietly and intently into the microphones.
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “....That’s what they are”.
“Wouldn’t be the first time that someone pretended to be interested in my thoughts. But there it is. If you can’t grasp that the two of them are specks of sand in this game then you shouldn’t be here. You should be out there watching our most Grand Champion yucking it up with the bottomfeeders and pretending to be the very best. The two of them wearing their honors tonight with pride. Showing it to all of them. What are my thoughts?”
“This isn’t mere thoughts or analytics, ask me how I feel. Ask me that. Do it”.
REPORTER: “...H-How do you feel?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “About what? How do I feel about what?”
REPORTER: “...How do you feel about coming up short tonight?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “Wrong question, try again”.
The recoiling journalist starts to sweat under the collar from the verbal grilling from the mouth of The Kraken, the other reporters around him looking at him with a fusion of pity and interest. Like watching a train crash, or watching someone pick the wings from a fly. Only this time, it’s a human fly.
REPORTER: “....Um, how do you feel about failing to win the X-Factor Championship?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “No”.
REPORTER: “.....I urh, um…..”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “Anyone want to help him out?”
The silence pierces through every ear in the room. The Grand Champion’s music had long stopped by now, only the pulsing cheers of the crowd watching the match providing the soundscape. Swindle’s eyes narrow on the reporter he has decided to humiliate. Playing with his food.
REPORTER: “....How….do you feel….about um…..”
Swindle overtly mimes a few words with his mouth for him to follow. While he’s giving the answer to him, it only adds to the uncomfortable energy in the media scrum.
REPORTER: “....Arata Asakura and MYOJIN…”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “There it is…”
“This isn’t an interview where you’ll all get your chance to direct the course. None of you are getting your say, because after that display out there, I don’t have time to be asked who my favourite up and coming talent is, or what I think about swapping brands to Fallout, or what I had for lunch yesterday. No, this isn’t time that belongs to you. To any of you”.
“It isn’t yours, and it certainly isn’t theirs”.
“They’re both this. Piles of dust that shouldn’t mean anything to anyone. Not a single soul. But here they are, in my boot, being the greatest annoyance one could ever dream of. This isn’t about a title, this is about perspective. I have to watch them spin today as some of their finest moments, while I’m stuck here, obligated to be in front of you all right now”.
“I know that Arata will win this match happening as we speak, because who the fuck else would be winning this joke of a clusterfuck. From the lauded rivalry against Emmanuelle to this, and the best he can do to occupy his time is take away MY opportunity”.
“Tell me that I shouldn’t be sitting here as the X-Factor Champion. Hell, tell me that I shouldn’t be sitting here as Grand Champion from all the way back at Clash for the Cup, when both MYOJIN and Arata were forgotten background players on Proving Ground while I was busy lining up to take that title”.
“From the very beginning I’ve seen what should be mine taken away. This is no different, so forgive me if I don’t have the same shocked expression on my face. I’m only disappointed. I can never be surprised by this anymore. I can watch as so many of the big names on this brand get their daily dose of title shot and chance pill while I have to scratch and claw for a fraction of what they have”.
“It has taken me near enough nine months to finally EARN a singles title match. No bullshit and no extra players. Not even a title victory, but just the lip service to finally be in the conversation. Now, you’ll all have to hear that MYOJIN is the ‘longest reigning whatever whatever’ of all time. Best in company history, they’ll say. Hope you’re all ready for that to really grind on your eardrums by Night of Honor. I saw defeat without defeat on this day against MYOJIN. That means they must take victory without victory. The gold rests on your shoulders through a token gesture out of their control. That is all you have. They’re like a torn muscle hanging off the bone by a single strand. Waiting to be pulled off and laid bare”.
“How do I feel? I am fucking ready”
"They're both nothing more than piles of sand".
Swindle shoves the microphones away on the desk and stands from his chair. Scraping the helmet off the table he turns and walks towards the exit. The sea of flash bulbs and camera clicks immediately fill the room as one reporter gets in a question during the spur of life.
REPORTER: "Swindle! Are you still under Tetran Kai contract??"
They get no answer other than a raised middle finger to the entire press cool as Shelldrake disappears through the doorway.
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---| S W I N D L E |---
---| T h r e e - P o i n t e d S t a r |---
---| P r o v i n g G r o u n d |---
33
---| F o o l s R u s h I n |---
T h e K r a k e n
S w i n d l e S h e l l d r a k e
---| T h e S w o r d o f D a m o c l e s |---
---| C h a p t e r O n e: |---
---| N u c l e a r F i r e |---
And a man with his pride, had god created
After his own image and likeness
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---| S W I N D L E |---
---| M i n d K i l l e r |---
Steps quietly clack across the pavement. The camera obscures the face, only showing flashes of well-polished dress shoes and thin black suit trousers as they stride along. A cold wind whisks past with an icy squeal, the quiet of the world feeling stranger by the moment before the sound of a prolonged inhale takes over. A disembodied choir of voices silently call out a number.
One.
The clunking sounds of a wrestling ring echo throughout, as if every step of the man creates tiny aftershocks of the soundscape of a wrestling match. The sharp clap of a referee counting a pinfall merges with the next two numbers. Other voices join in in rapturous excitement as they narrate the battle.
Two.
Three.
[V.O.]: “The animosity is palpable!”
Four.
Five.
Six.
[V.O.]: “Both competitors are so evenly matched here!”
The camera changes to a close up angle of the man’s eyes. Piercing dark orbs with the shock of a fringe like lightning cutting over his face. The voices grow louder, as the counts become more hurried and energetic.
[V.O.]: “Wait a minute….is that?....”
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
NINE!!
TEN!!!
[V.O.]: “Unbelievable! After coming this far….”
The voice dies down as The Kraken reaches a stop to enter a revolving door with a swish of the glass frame. The camera waits outside and plans up the tall highrise building, scanning over the army of tinted-black glass panels that line the outside walls like sentries. Another voice speaks over the scene, one that is more familiar to the man in question, deep, measured, and introspective.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “What’s this about Shelldrake, then?”
ROLAND RAITH [V.O.]: “That’s part of what I called you here for…..”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---| VIRGIL |----
---| P e r s p e c t i v e: T h e F i r s t |---
Tetran Kai Head Office
The well-dressed, mustached man sat down in the pristine leatherback chair facing his manager’s desk. Looking over to the otherside, the stern face of Roland Raith looking back at him, the head manager of Tetran Kai Dojo. He is adorned in a smarter suit than usual, with a simple white shirt, black tie. He sits forward with his fingers interlocked as he leans his elbows on the desk. Murmuring thoughtfully, Roland looks over to his hired gun. Virgil takes in the slight uncertainty to his manager’s expression. Despite the steely pokerface, there was a pained hesitance to his words and his demeanor in general, when he had been direct with his goals to him before.
Something had gone on. And he wanted to find out what.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Did it bubble over again?”
ROLAND RAITH: “...That’s one way to put it. The line has been crossed this time, Mr. Barrick. He’s become too much of a liability on my end. The amount of times I have Project: Honor’s pundits setting emails and tweets about safety of the roster with Shelldrake around. The level of insubordination…I’m starting to think if it is really worth the trouble when I could find a different prospect to back”.
Barrick paused and observed for a moment, careful with his words, but no less blunt. The camera lingers on him for a moment before cutting momentarily to Swindle inside the elevator. The lights in the small metal coffin now falling eerily dim in their slight disrepair and neglect. The only significant light coming from the rolling strips of light through the floors, watching as they peer through the smallest of cracks in the elevator door, making him blink every so often from the brightness as they roll over his eyes.
His expression is contained, even with the slight shake in his hand as it balled up in a fist. The dark eyes darted over to the digital numbers over the button board, watching as the numbers slowly and gradually ticked up. Each floor feels like an extra lifetime between the next.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “I’m struggling to see how that’s a problem for you now. He’s not someone who hides that as his method”.
The scene cuts back where Roland’s gaze meets Virgil. The Smooth Operator could tell that he wanted to fire back with something, something charged on the nerve in the moment, but elected not to. Virgil only smiles ever so slightly, while maintaining his stoic composure. He scouted out Roland by asking the question, a question that he was more involved in the fate of than what he hoped his boss would realise.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Are you getting rid of him?”
Roland remains silent, squeezing his fingers together tighter until his knuckles turn white. Virgil was perplexed. He had started his journey with Tetran Kai on the basis of a stronger relationship and communication than this, and for an internal purpose. This closing-off wasn’t what he would usually have to contend with.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “What did you say the last time he was here?”
ROLAND RAITH: “I gave him a decision to make….”
The scene cuts back to the elevator where the shaking hand of Swindle busies itself by producing a small coin from his suit pocket. He inspects it with his finger, brushing over the engraving. It was a fifty pence piece, and wasn't even legal tender in the country. Absent-mindedly, he rolled it around in his fingers for a moment.
The camera cuts to a close up shot of just his eyes for a moment as he looks down at the coin resting in his hand. The scrolling lights scanning the brown of his eyes in the moody shadowed box.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “And?”
ROLAND RAITH [V.O.]: “I gave him the terms. He didn’t meet them in the end”.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O]: “Him losing the match.…”
Swindle’s eyes squint as he focuses further, partially keeping his eyes locked to the coin, while also looking into the middle distance with a vacantness to his eyes. His thumb spikes up as the coin lets out a clear ringing tone, all other noise from the elevator falling completely silent in the mix. The vibrations of the small silver coin echoing out and overlapping into itself.
The scene cuts back again to the office room, with added intensity to Barrick’s eyes, matching that of Shelldrake’s.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “You didn’t see how he lost, did you?”
The twitch of Roland’s neck in a motion to question Barrick’s comment, tells more than the words that follow.
ROLAND RAITH: “Does it matter? He didn’t provide what he’s been preaching all this time. I don’t want to get rid of him, but he’s left me no other choice”.
The Project: Underground wrestler can’t help but draw a withheld smile to his face.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Coming from someone who doesn’t dissuade the absolutes of haves and have nots, I beg to differ here. With respect, this was nothing that the overall package of Swindle Shelldrake wouldn’t bring you. For all the deceit he preaches, the ending result is plain as day. He reaps what he sows for his own advancement, that has been the deal since long before you hired me”.
“If he walked in here with the X-Factor Championship, would that make any difference to you? The idea was to push him further and further, even if in your methodology, meant moving the goalposts. I don’t see how getting rid of him helps that”.
The coins turns in the air with every revolution slowing down to a fraction of a second, stretched out into a painstakingly slow dance.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Did you say that you would fire him?”
ROLAND RAITH: “Yes”.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “Failure on its own standing isn’t why you should get rid of him. You don’t really want to, but now you’re backed into the corner”.
ROLAND RAITH: “I know that! You’re lucky that falling to a TikTok boxer hasn’t already got you to the boot too”.
VIRGIL BARRICK: “You won’t get rid of both of us. The entire expansion was meant to be built on this unstable ground you dug. If you have to call your own bluff, then that’s not a good look for you”.
Roland scowls at the decision put before him by his own hurriedness and emotional outburst to his top star, now being cornered again by his rookie signing. Virgil say back in his chair, content with the position and leverage he had over Roland. While he was hired to be a foil to Swindle in this tangled web of mind games to push The Kraken, he saw his own future in Tetran Kai, with or without Swindlee he was much more secure in trying to keep him there, or fine tune Roland’s frustrations to anyone that wasn’t him.
Meanwhile, Swindle’s eyes zone in to focus on the coin as it falls, catching it in his palm and tightly closing his fist, so much so that his knuckles start to turn white.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O.]: “It’s not him that made a decision, Mr. Raith. It’s you that needs to make the choice….”
The short ring of the elevator chimes as it slows to a halt, Swindle’s fist remaining closed tight. He leaves the fate of the coin toss unanswered as the scene cuts to black.
VIRGIL BARRICK [V.O]: “Choosing what your word is worth in this brand new world”.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---| S W I N D L E |---
---| S a n d c a s t l e |---
Paradise Beach
Cancun, Mexico
Proving Ground XXXII Post-Show Media Scrum
One of the most stacked and anticipated Proving Ground cards is raging on. With a level of big matches rivaling that of a Pay-Per-View, the crowd at Cancun go nuts for the entrance theme of the Grand Champion Arata Asakura. Backstage, the music is pounding out into the open air of the beach while a media interview area is established with several pro wrestling journalistic outlets making their presence known for such a marquee event.
However, the ambient muttering of the press pool cuts out in a murmuring silence with the champion’s music playing, as the tall, lanky frame of The Kraken peers through the curtain and slowly plodding up to the table. His body bears the bruises of a hard-fought battle, with his eyes holding the vacant impact of the unsuccessful challenge. He takes his time to finally reach the microphone stands, taking his seat.
Swindle sits there for a good few moments and looks out to the bundle of writers and their accompanying cameramen. None of them get a direct stare from Shelldrake, but are caught in hesitation instead of their surge of questions.
The Kraken winces and lifts up the entrance helmet he wore for the match. The large ‘X’ visor covering the eyes now lacks the neon blue glow of its lights. Dropping it with a gentle clunk to the table, the long tendril cables splaying out and dangling over the front.
Gingerly, one of the reporters stands and speaks.
REPORTER: “Mr. Shelldrake, what are your thoughts after coming up short for the X-Factor Championship?”
He shudders as The Kraken’s eyes flicker over to zone in on his lone form standing amongst the sitting sheep. While a more imposing figure like Ozymandias would invoke a pure terror with such attention, Swindle draws out a more conniving darkness to his eyes. Mixed with the fresh emotion of the match just gone, and the lack of metal clasped over his shoulder, the silence he elects to say speaks louder than he could.
His expression doesn’t change, but he does finally release the poor reporter from the paralytic gaze as he leans down to one side, fiddling to remove his wrestling boot. Between the helmet and where he would have rested the X-Factor Championship, Swindle upturns the boot to pour out a sad sputter of sand onto the table.
It comes to a rest in a small dust pile, with Swindle shaking the last few grains out before he drops the boot next to it. Another round of silent torture begins as the reporters all wait in anticipation. Swindle’s breath gradually returns to him after the grueling match, speaking quietly and intently into the microphones.
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “....That’s what they are”.
“Wouldn’t be the first time that someone pretended to be interested in my thoughts. But there it is. If you can’t grasp that the two of them are specks of sand in this game then you shouldn’t be here. You should be out there watching our most Grand Champion yucking it up with the bottomfeeders and pretending to be the very best. The two of them wearing their honors tonight with pride. Showing it to all of them. What are my thoughts?”
“This isn’t mere thoughts or analytics, ask me how I feel. Ask me that. Do it”.
REPORTER: “...H-How do you feel?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “About what? How do I feel about what?”
REPORTER: “...How do you feel about coming up short tonight?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “Wrong question, try again”.
The recoiling journalist starts to sweat under the collar from the verbal grilling from the mouth of The Kraken, the other reporters around him looking at him with a fusion of pity and interest. Like watching a train crash, or watching someone pick the wings from a fly. Only this time, it’s a human fly.
REPORTER: “....Um, how do you feel about failing to win the X-Factor Championship?”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “No”.
REPORTER: “.....I urh, um…..”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “Anyone want to help him out?”
The silence pierces through every ear in the room. The Grand Champion’s music had long stopped by now, only the pulsing cheers of the crowd watching the match providing the soundscape. Swindle’s eyes narrow on the reporter he has decided to humiliate. Playing with his food.
REPORTER: “....How….do you feel….about um…..”
Swindle overtly mimes a few words with his mouth for him to follow. While he’s giving the answer to him, it only adds to the uncomfortable energy in the media scrum.
REPORTER: “....Arata Asakura and MYOJIN…”
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: “There it is…”
“This isn’t an interview where you’ll all get your chance to direct the course. None of you are getting your say, because after that display out there, I don’t have time to be asked who my favourite up and coming talent is, or what I think about swapping brands to Fallout, or what I had for lunch yesterday. No, this isn’t time that belongs to you. To any of you”.
“It isn’t yours, and it certainly isn’t theirs”.
“They’re both this. Piles of dust that shouldn’t mean anything to anyone. Not a single soul. But here they are, in my boot, being the greatest annoyance one could ever dream of. This isn’t about a title, this is about perspective. I have to watch them spin today as some of their finest moments, while I’m stuck here, obligated to be in front of you all right now”.
“I know that Arata will win this match happening as we speak, because who the fuck else would be winning this joke of a clusterfuck. From the lauded rivalry against Emmanuelle to this, and the best he can do to occupy his time is take away MY opportunity”.
“Tell me that I shouldn’t be sitting here as the X-Factor Champion. Hell, tell me that I shouldn’t be sitting here as Grand Champion from all the way back at Clash for the Cup, when both MYOJIN and Arata were forgotten background players on Proving Ground while I was busy lining up to take that title”.
“From the very beginning I’ve seen what should be mine taken away. This is no different, so forgive me if I don’t have the same shocked expression on my face. I’m only disappointed. I can never be surprised by this anymore. I can watch as so many of the big names on this brand get their daily dose of title shot and chance pill while I have to scratch and claw for a fraction of what they have”.
“It has taken me near enough nine months to finally EARN a singles title match. No bullshit and no extra players. Not even a title victory, but just the lip service to finally be in the conversation. Now, you’ll all have to hear that MYOJIN is the ‘longest reigning whatever whatever’ of all time. Best in company history, they’ll say. Hope you’re all ready for that to really grind on your eardrums by Night of Honor. I saw defeat without defeat on this day against MYOJIN. That means they must take victory without victory. The gold rests on your shoulders through a token gesture out of their control. That is all you have. They’re like a torn muscle hanging off the bone by a single strand. Waiting to be pulled off and laid bare”.
“How do I feel? I am fucking ready”
"They're both nothing more than piles of sand".
Swindle shoves the microphones away on the desk and stands from his chair. Scraping the helmet off the table he turns and walks towards the exit. The sea of flash bulbs and camera clicks immediately fill the room as one reporter gets in a question during the spur of life.
REPORTER: "Swindle! Are you still under Tetran Kai contract??"
They get no answer other than a raised middle finger to the entire press cool as Shelldrake disappears through the doorway.
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---| S W I N D L E |---
---| T h r e e - P o i n t e d S t a r |---
TD Garden
Boston, Massachusetts
Boston, Massachusetts
The TD Garden sees its venue open the gates to the roving circus that is Project: Honor. With the ring set up in the epicenter of the arena, the camera pans over from the technical staff rigging up the lighting constructs, travelling over to one of the balcony tiers. Leaning over the barricade is Swindle Shelldrake. He watches on with a small shake to his head. Flecks of scorched grey ash fades away into the air from the cigarette perched between his fingers.
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "Here is where the joke begins, huh? Not only is it disgustingly driving to have lost my chance at MYOJIN's title, but now its back to 'an alliance'. There never was one to begin with. Big Drip was on death's door long before I got involved, and that was by my own convenience. The notion that we should be cohesive for the sake of a match is beyond sense. After what happened in Mexico, there isn't any way we're going to win this match. And why should we think any different? I make no bones over the fragility of my support. I've never lied about that. But here we are, where the hope is that three conflicting forces would somehow balance the scales".
"What complete bullshit. There is nothing that could compare. I look around at the other five in this match, and they don't, and can't hold a candle to the retribution I seek. I'm sure we'll hear it from all of them, as to why they have to be saddled with their tag partner tonight. Look at them all, pretending to have a real struggle in this ring...."
"English....the man who just held the Warrior Rising title with dominant fashion. I say dominant, but that doesn't change my opinion of the man one bit. He is second rate. A champion fighting the small fish in the small pond and being content with that walled garden of success. It doesn't make you ready for this, Casanova. Not by a long shot. You'll want to be like Ozymandias, or perhaps Jason Long, where they can lose their championship, and just slip into another at the drop of a hat.....No, not this time. That ends the second you step into this match. Because you, you want YOUR title back".
"Your title of contentment, and its resting right nest to you tonight. You simply need to cost Giovanni his chance to climbing up after such a career-making victory over your own standing. He's right there. Nothing against the rules in simply stepping aside. It's not hard, I'm sure that you've been seem as impressive by the right people enough to be gifted a rematch. It all comes so easy, these days".
"And Giovanni....I haven't forgotten your stunt at Unbreakable Resolution. While your boy Levy is busy trying to uncover a conspiracy against him, I had to watch back my return to a Project: Honor ring, standing over him....and seeing you suck the air out of the place. You made it about you. Now that you have your own shiny title, it's again....all about you. Fuck you. I'm not going to suddenly see your as a champion, and suddenly give you the respect you want. You lost that right the second you decided to kick my teeth in".
"This match will be your chance to cement yourself as a strong Warrior Rising Champion, and kick off your time with the belt in the right way. Just like Casanova, this is your sliver of a chance to shoot higher than your station while you're still babies. It's a chance that WILL be taken away from you. There is nothing I can allow you to have, while I am still grasping for MY CHANCE!"
"The people above you, I have a need to have a nice long chat with them. Really see eye-to-eye, because once again the Grand Champion has shown their ugly head. That moment means I'm not standing here as the X-Factor Champion. That moment means that even out of everyone in this match, as it always goes in this fucking place, they can complain from a place of privilege. Having already held a title, all of which very recently. I am scratching for my seat at the table, and I will tear down any and all of you to get what I want".
"Arata, Mexico was the final straw. It will take even more than teaming with Emmanuelle to protect you from the machinations I have in store for you. Hold that title tight, and defend it with more than your life. Because not even death will get you away from me. Every waking moment in that ring will be me, bringing about your downfall. Not only that, but everyone's downfall. Champion and challenger alike. Your display to invade MY match while you parade your title around is burned into me, and I will make you feel every moment of pain and adversity this roster has put me through".
"I am caught between two championships. Two thieves that have taken from me what should be my opportunity. It's more than just you anymore, MYOJIN has embroiled themselves into this mess. Fuck sake. The X-Factor Championship lives on their shoulder through no influence of their own, but from yours, Arata. You dare take control of my own destiny from me. I AM the one who pulls the strings! Nobody else, but you have tried...."
"That was your fatal mistake".
"I am not like a Douglas Crane, or a Cadillac, or a Lance Williams that can be felled with one strike and left comfortably to rest in your memory. This goes to both Casanova, and English, and Emmanuelle too...."
"I am not so easily defeated".
"Every movement made against me will only make my desire stronger. I tore a man's arm apart just to get to this roster. I broke a man's neck to get what I want. What else could a desperate man do? I'll allow you to think on that, the lot of you. You think this is your time, this has been my time to take FROM you all the second I signed on the dotted line".
"It doesn't matter who is in the way. As far as I see it, I have current and former Warrior Champions, and a former Grand Champion to dismantle before I get to the two I really need to flay before of the world. Show everyone that they do not own my destiny - The glory I have been chasing for years. Dual gold. You'd both best hope you can keep that gold until I get my chance to take it. Please use what little talent you have left for that. For me. Because there would be no greater satisfaction than creating the transition of the history books from MYOJIN and Arata Asakura to Swindle Shelldrake. I don't fucking care if it be by attrition, when they're broken down and gone, I will be the one hoisting the metal over their bodies..."
"There is nobody in all of Project: Honor who wants this more than me. Nobody. Everyone else in this match, stable team or otherwise, will fall to the wayside because I cannot have anything less".
"Sooner rather than later....I will be the one...."
"I dare all five you to deny me again".
SWINDLE SHELLDRAKE: "Here is where the joke begins, huh? Not only is it disgustingly driving to have lost my chance at MYOJIN's title, but now its back to 'an alliance'. There never was one to begin with. Big Drip was on death's door long before I got involved, and that was by my own convenience. The notion that we should be cohesive for the sake of a match is beyond sense. After what happened in Mexico, there isn't any way we're going to win this match. And why should we think any different? I make no bones over the fragility of my support. I've never lied about that. But here we are, where the hope is that three conflicting forces would somehow balance the scales".
"What complete bullshit. There is nothing that could compare. I look around at the other five in this match, and they don't, and can't hold a candle to the retribution I seek. I'm sure we'll hear it from all of them, as to why they have to be saddled with their tag partner tonight. Look at them all, pretending to have a real struggle in this ring...."
"English....the man who just held the Warrior Rising title with dominant fashion. I say dominant, but that doesn't change my opinion of the man one bit. He is second rate. A champion fighting the small fish in the small pond and being content with that walled garden of success. It doesn't make you ready for this, Casanova. Not by a long shot. You'll want to be like Ozymandias, or perhaps Jason Long, where they can lose their championship, and just slip into another at the drop of a hat.....No, not this time. That ends the second you step into this match. Because you, you want YOUR title back".
"Your title of contentment, and its resting right nest to you tonight. You simply need to cost Giovanni his chance to climbing up after such a career-making victory over your own standing. He's right there. Nothing against the rules in simply stepping aside. It's not hard, I'm sure that you've been seem as impressive by the right people enough to be gifted a rematch. It all comes so easy, these days".
"And Giovanni....I haven't forgotten your stunt at Unbreakable Resolution. While your boy Levy is busy trying to uncover a conspiracy against him, I had to watch back my return to a Project: Honor ring, standing over him....and seeing you suck the air out of the place. You made it about you. Now that you have your own shiny title, it's again....all about you. Fuck you. I'm not going to suddenly see your as a champion, and suddenly give you the respect you want. You lost that right the second you decided to kick my teeth in".
"This match will be your chance to cement yourself as a strong Warrior Rising Champion, and kick off your time with the belt in the right way. Just like Casanova, this is your sliver of a chance to shoot higher than your station while you're still babies. It's a chance that WILL be taken away from you. There is nothing I can allow you to have, while I am still grasping for MY CHANCE!"
"The people above you, I have a need to have a nice long chat with them. Really see eye-to-eye, because once again the Grand Champion has shown their ugly head. That moment means I'm not standing here as the X-Factor Champion. That moment means that even out of everyone in this match, as it always goes in this fucking place, they can complain from a place of privilege. Having already held a title, all of which very recently. I am scratching for my seat at the table, and I will tear down any and all of you to get what I want".
"Arata, Mexico was the final straw. It will take even more than teaming with Emmanuelle to protect you from the machinations I have in store for you. Hold that title tight, and defend it with more than your life. Because not even death will get you away from me. Every waking moment in that ring will be me, bringing about your downfall. Not only that, but everyone's downfall. Champion and challenger alike. Your display to invade MY match while you parade your title around is burned into me, and I will make you feel every moment of pain and adversity this roster has put me through".
"I am caught between two championships. Two thieves that have taken from me what should be my opportunity. It's more than just you anymore, MYOJIN has embroiled themselves into this mess. Fuck sake. The X-Factor Championship lives on their shoulder through no influence of their own, but from yours, Arata. You dare take control of my own destiny from me. I AM the one who pulls the strings! Nobody else, but you have tried...."
"That was your fatal mistake".
"I am not like a Douglas Crane, or a Cadillac, or a Lance Williams that can be felled with one strike and left comfortably to rest in your memory. This goes to both Casanova, and English, and Emmanuelle too...."
"I am not so easily defeated".
"Every movement made against me will only make my desire stronger. I tore a man's arm apart just to get to this roster. I broke a man's neck to get what I want. What else could a desperate man do? I'll allow you to think on that, the lot of you. You think this is your time, this has been my time to take FROM you all the second I signed on the dotted line".
"It doesn't matter who is in the way. As far as I see it, I have current and former Warrior Champions, and a former Grand Champion to dismantle before I get to the two I really need to flay before of the world. Show everyone that they do not own my destiny - The glory I have been chasing for years. Dual gold. You'd both best hope you can keep that gold until I get my chance to take it. Please use what little talent you have left for that. For me. Because there would be no greater satisfaction than creating the transition of the history books from MYOJIN and Arata Asakura to Swindle Shelldrake. I don't fucking care if it be by attrition, when they're broken down and gone, I will be the one hoisting the metal over their bodies..."
"There is nobody in all of Project: Honor who wants this more than me. Nobody. Everyone else in this match, stable team or otherwise, will fall to the wayside because I cannot have anything less".
"Sooner rather than later....I will be the one...."
"I dare all five you to deny me again".
Walk alone
It leads us to despair
These cuts of my arms
The constant cold
Dipping the skin in the loving slime
Remember where you come from
It leads us to despair
These cuts of my arms
The constant cold
Dipping the skin in the loving slime
Remember where you come from
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