Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2020 1:21:22 GMT -5
COP | “Is that him? Shit, he looks worse for wear.”
DOCTOR | “Yes, he’s been like this for days now. Honestly, we are not sure if he will recover from this injury. Traumatic brain injuries are… complicated. And this is one we have not seen before.”
COP | “How so?”
DOCTOR | “Well, it appears his cognitive functions are shut down completely. He is not responding to any prompts or signals from us but he is showing minimal brain activity.”
COP | “Speak to me like I’m a cop and not a brain surgeon, Doc.”
DOCTOR | “Ah yes, sorry. Normally when a patient is in deep comatosis, their body will still react so certain changes or signals. Temperature, position, food or drinks. Essentially their brain still controls their functions, and keeps them alive. Think of their beating heart. Other patients are not so fortunate, and rely entirely on the aid of machinery.”
COP | “And Knox here?”
DOCTOR | “He’s not that bad, however his body still doesn’t react to the above signals. He only seems to ‘react’ around certain sounds, smells, words or names… like he’s still awake, but he’s not ‘him’ anymore… does that make any sense?”
COP | “Not a lick.”
DOCTOR | “Yeah I thought the same as soon as I said it aloud… James Knox here, is in a coma. However his brain activity is still reacting as if he were awake, just not responding to everything. We are still running tests however… OK this is just a theory for now, and sounds crazy but I have thought about one thing…”
COP | “...and that theory is…?”
DOCTOR | “Well, he’s a known television celebrity and public menace, all which he blames on his ‘alter ego’, right? Well what if that isn’t all a stunt? Say, he actually is deeply affected with schizophrenia and suffers from dual-personality disorder, or interprets this world as if through the eyes of another.”
COP | “So you believe he really is this Hyperion character? The prophet or whatever he was when he led all those cultists? C’mon Doc, you’re a man of science, don’t tell me you buy into that horseshit.”
DOCTOR | “No no, all that stuff about him being a God and that is purely nonsense, however his dissociative behavior and his deep belief in this new persona… I truly believe he was a victim of psychosis-induced-schizophrenia. And from what I am seeing here, the results from my testing…”
COP | “...yes? I need answers here Doc, what’s his verdict?”
DOCTOR | “For all intents and purposes, James Knox is dead… brain dead. I do not see any recovery from him unfortunately. However, the patterns I am seeing, the response rates I am reading indicate to me that we might still be able to save ‘some’ of him.”
Mount Sinai hospital in Manhattan, New York City. A piss-poor year for the medical institution, the onslaught of the pandemic from the novel virus has wracked the facility and exhausted the staff, the personnel, the world truly. Teeming with doctors outnumbers by patients new and old, every service offered is heavily burdened during these trying times, but nothing near as tasked as their ICU units.
As the floodgates of new patients pour in, the eyes and attention of the local law enforcers is distracted by the arrival of a known trouble maker, a New York resident with a rap sheet longer than his leg. Notoriously released prematurely from his incarceration, the story has grown many legs but remains a walk regardless.
James Knox, and the story of Hyperion.
The wrestling superstar-turned-cult leader broke the headlines over the past few years with his wild antics and bigger persona on screen, the ‘God Amongst Men’ character he portrayed on screen- Hyperion. Knox wasn’t a stranger to media attention, but rarely was it as positive. A known criminal affiliated with a Brooklyn-based biker gang named the ‘Immortals MC’, Knox seemingly cut his ties with the crew shortly after a brutal and bloodied clash with their rivals.
Cops followed his actions but grew tired once it became clear he left that world behind to begin this new, bizarre chapter into professional wrestling. And who could blame him, he became a sensation overnight. His promo’s on the microphone were as baffling as his antics outside the ring, truly believing himself to be the reincarnated feature of this wacky story.
COP | “Then my job here is done. I was sent to get a report on his situation, and if you think he’s no longer a threat to the general public then you can sign off on this for me.” The cop produces a very authoritative looking form and hands it to the doctor. “One less nutjob loose on the streets of New York is never a bad thing in my books.”
DOCTOR | “He cannot so much as move his toes right now so yes, he is no longer a concern of yours. But we might still save him yet-”
COP | “Save it, I’m not here to give a shit about his health. I’m only here to surmise if he’s still a threat. And by the looks of him... I don’t think we need to worry about a vegetable.”
A shadow of his former self, Knox adhered to the Hyperion character like glue and allowed himself to fully gorge on the persona. It has been reported that he never ‘lost control’, it was always Knox playing a character. But to those who believe otherwise, to those that truly saw a God reborn on Earth, a mythological creature from the Heavens that stood before them… they will tell you Knox died years ago.
That Knox was never there, only their new God - Hyperion.
His size and strength was a big boon for him in the Immortals MC, a powerful fighter that could throw his weight around. Wherever the law was called to break up a fight, wherever it was they were sure to see Knox at the helm of it. His giant stature and booming voice mixed with his arrogant, cocky attitude was always a recipe for disaster. He spent more time inside than outside during his growing years, and less as he got older - he learned how to not get caught.
The Ascension Wrestling Federation was different however. He was controlled, he behaved. He lived by the rules of the popular combat league, he developed a fighting style that fit in well between the four ropes. He learned how to use his power and athleticism to entertain fans and demolish opponents. To see him move with such speed and confidence, such power and finesse despite his size was… sensational.
DOCTOR | “So will your men continue to come here, or will you now leave us work in peace?”
The doctor hands the officer the form, signed and folded.
COP | “Thank you Doc, I will bring this form back to the Captain, see what he says. But in this state, I can’t see why there is any point. Knox isn’t going anywhere.”
DOCTOR | “I don’t think you need to worry about Knox anymore, to be quite frank. But if my theories are correct…”
COP | “Save it Doc, I’m not here for theories. If he ever wakes up, call me.” The cop hands the doctor a card with his contact details on it. “And if not, then the world just got a lot brighter.” The cop walks to the door of the private ward and stops to turn back for one last look. “Y’know, I’ve locked this idiot up countless times, chased him down streets on his damn Harley and every time I thought if he wanted my head off, he could take it without breaking a sweat… it’s kinda weird to see him like this now.”
DOCTOR | “He might just wake up to wreak havoc on the city once again… you never know.”
COP | “Good one Doc… if his condition worsens, do us all a favor… turn off the machines.” The cop opens the door to leave. “ You’ve got your hands full, what with the virus. I’ll pull my men from the door, Knox is no more a public threat than a damn statue now.”
His rise in the AWF was unforeseen, this outsider that arrived at the beginning of the federation and caused waves. He fought and sold out venues all the way from their small town roots to their mainstay on TV screens around the globe. AWF was going places, but the likes of Hyperion got them there faster. However with fame and health comes power, and not all men do well when they have that much power.
Light-minded folks will grasp onto any notion that helps them out of a poor situation, whether it be religion or faith, or even a new messiah. To some, Hyperion was all of that. A walking golem of power, a shining bright light to dispel the darkness in their lives, an escape for the weak and the afraid to feel safe, to feel protected. He filled the gap that many felt, and he became their idol. Their inspiration. Their God.
As time passed Knox and Hyperion were conflicted, each persona battling it’s way to the surface. When one was in control, the other clawed to take back the reins. A mind torn apart, two fire burning for control. The stage act was soon forgotten, the fantasy dispelled and suddenly it became clear that Knox was not a healthy man. This ‘Hyperion’ persona was a manifestation of his own delusions of grandeur, his own penchant for regency. He wanted to lead these people, to oversee them, to command them.
He wanted supremacy.
Knox was still very much ‘awake’, yet Hyperion seemed to speak for him. Their inner turmoil created a cataclysm for those close to him, as Hyperion turned everyone away from him through acts of violence and spite. Those that remained by his side sought the same thing he did. Power and control, recognition and reward. He formed a band of partners that saw the world not through the eyes of a wrestler, a celebrity, but outside those walls.
They wanted a battalion.
He led this newly formed militia to battle, from his closely-kept allies to his growing numbers of followers. He guided their way through the ranks of the AWF, toppling the competition. He drew the eyes and attention of everyone that crossed their path, and exacted whatever justice he saw fit. He soaked up and absorbed all the weak minded, lost souls of middle America, his numbers reaching the four digit mark. He had built himself an army.
He called them his ‘Legion’. And he was their their Champion.
DOCTOR | “Seems like you’ve gotten away with murder, James Knox. Released early from prison, and welcomed back by hundreds of loyal worshippers. Hmm, I’m not sure if you are a genius or a mad-man. Either way, it seems even the law doesn’t want you anymore.” The doctor crosses the roof and closes the blinds, the dark nights shy now concealed. “A free man by all accounts, I’m sure they did that so they won’t need to foot your medical bills. Lucky you.”
The doctor picks up Knox’s file and takes a quick read through, making some notes as he checks levels and measurements on the machines connected to his lifeless body.
DOCTOR | “Attacked from behind, blunt force trauma to the skull, repeated abrasions. Fractured skull and massive brain trauma. I wonder what stopped them from finishing the job… might have been better had they gone through with it fully and killed you. What kind of life is this for you?”
The doctor's sentiment is not lost, a man of medical prowess doubting the merciful actions of others. Knox did not end up in here by accident, nor by his own innocence. His ‘Church of Hyperion’ grew too powerful, far too fast. It caught the eyes of the media, people terrified they were looking at another Heaven's Gate, another Waco incident waiting to happen. Loyal and devoted followers, who came from nothing to finally have something. No, this Church was worse.
The world was on the cusp of another Manson, ready to attack.
Countless families ruined, torn apart through varied beliefs and contradictory ideals of what their messiah should look like. A mockery towards modern religions, an attack on abnormal beliefs. Those who knelt and prayed for their God did so at the cost of their loved ones, their families. They gave it all to Hyperion, turning their backs on their origins, all for a slice of the Heaven he promised so dearly.
Nobody even batted an eyelid when he started to offer his ‘Ambrosia’. The ‘nectar of the Gods’ he called it, the forbidden fruit that would allow his followers to open their minds and see what he saw, to glimpse this same Heaven promised to those willing to join him. The jelly-like substance enjoyed by Gods and Titans of mythology, recreated in a laboratory in middle America, circa the start of a new pandemic, 2019.
To say the substance was a failure would be a huge insult to failures. It was catastrophic, a psychedelic that didn’t just melt the minds of it’s users but tore them from their own very existence. Some collapsed into psychosis, some dropped unconscious only to barely recover with time. Others closed their eyes and never awoke again. The numbers of his followers quickly swayed, from those loving to those dying or gone. It was a tragedy that could have been avoided, yet Hyperion believed it to be a necessary step.
He played with people’s lives. And they lost.
Despite the number of casualties on his hands, Hyperion pushed forward and ordered more Ambrosia. More offerings. More gifts from the Gods, for his followers to devour. But one thing would hinder his plans, one thing would stop his progress - the AWF. The same company that helped create this giant also saw to ruin him. His final bout under their banner occurred during their Winter PPV, Hyperion versus Seth Dillinger for his Prestige title. The match did not unfold as planned, with a distraction costing Hyperion’s attention on his opponent and ultimately his defeat.
Fueled by rage, his night only worsened as his actions finally caught up to him and he was apprehended for his crimes. For his leadership in this Church, one of modern-America’s fastest rising cults. The deaths of many fell on his head, and he alone would be the patsy for the wrath of the justice system.
He was sentenced to a mere twenty five years for his involvement. He served six months.
Despite his track record his followers were loyal, they still revered him and loved him. They were everything he had in this world, and he was more to them. Setbacks and controversy aside, they broke their God free from custody and released him back onto this world. They released a demon they were not ready for, a giant that had nothing but time to plan his next act. Dwelling on his past and those that opposed him, Hyperion was free with a vendetta. Nobody was sure if it was truly Hyperion in charge, or if Knox played the ace up his sleeve to fool these people.
It mattered not. He had ruined lives, ruined families. He had made more enemies than followers. His taste of freedom came with the caveat of constant danger, and even with an army surrounding him he proved to be vulnerable.
Somebody got the chance, and they took it. Somebody got close, and they pounced. Hyperion was a God trapped in the body of a man, but men can be broken.
DOCTOR | “Nurse, can we have someone clean his wrapping and bandages in the morning? It looks like he hasn’t been cared to in days.” The doctor calls a nursing aid across the hall, before replacing Knox’s file at the end of his bed. His rounds with the menace finished for the day. “Knox, the conversation has been excellent as always, just how I like it… quiet!” The doctor takes his leave of the room, pausing by the doorway to take one last look back.
DOCTOR | “You caused a whole lot of stink in the world Knox, but there is still some fight left in you. I know it. Or should we still call you by the other name, as a reminder of the google ol’ days… Hyperion, long may he reign.”
The doctor reaches for the light switch, but freezes in his tracks. Knox’s hand, twitching and moving… clenching slowly into a fist.
The roaming fields of Sparta are awash in golden light, from the prized crop in the fields to the shimmering sandstone on the surrounding hills. As the wind blows slowly, coursing its fingers through the blades of grass, the light dances and flirts with the shade from the clouds above. A harmonious melody of silence.
The efforts of his labour and the gifts from children, Hyperion savours the world around him created by his own offspring. The rising dawn, it’s warming light, a sweet offering from his daughter Eos. The days light, the valuable gift of sight gifted to us from his son Helios. And the comforting embrace of the night's sky, the soothing reprise from the day gone, courtesy of his daughter Selene.
The Titan of Light, and his children command the very circle of day and night that this world adheres to. From his daughter starting our day to his son feeding the crops and plants of this world with his bright sunlight, to his daughter closing out this chapter with her enveloping darkness. Hyperion has a grasp of the greatest power on this land, yet he is humbled by it also. His family have given him so much more than he has ever given them.
His family is everything to him. A Titan serves no purpose without a family to provide for, a family to protect and to preserve. His namesake, his seed is why he is here. A War looms on the horizon, the Gods of Mount Olympus tire of obeying their peers and following the old rules. They wish to fight for control, seeking to end the era of Titans, and crumble Mount Othrys.
Where there is light there exists those that wish to extinguish it. Hyperion fights for the light, yet his nephews wish to quince that. Zeus claims his power, Hades claims his children, Poseidon claims his weaponry. The three brothers gather on the edge of the world, poised and ready to strike, an army of immortal Gods and Goddesses supporting them.
Hyperion, the Titan of Light, cannot win this fight.
But he can enjoy one last day with his family, one last moment of bliss before he needs to wake up to this new reality. As he walks through the fields, his lover Gaia by his side, he savours every moment, every sense that is tingled. The smell of the fresh bloom of nearby anemone lingers on his senses, toying with his taste and smell. A pleasing aroma of honey and lavender.
The sound of birds singing above, calling to one another, playing their games. It mimics the joy felt by his own children as they chase one another through the lands before him, ducking and hiding within the tall blades of grass and the golden wheat. Their laughter, their cries of joy… this is Heaven on Earth.
The sight of the golden hills and the dancing clouds above, the deep rich blueness of the boundless sky, the shadows of the clouds chasing the light to and fro on the grass before him. The sight of his sister Gaia, his beautiful companion, the mother to his children smiling brightly, radiant. Her golden hair flows in the wind, almost weightless. Like smoke, like seeds in the wind.
HYPERION | “The War for the Heavens need not happen… let the Olympians have it. To me this here is Heaven.”
GAIA | “Foolish Hyperion, you praise these lands too much. They are but fields of wheat and hills of soil. They are mortal tools for this vulnerable world.”
HYPERION | “Perhaps… but look upon them, and tell me you do not see their beauty.”
They both gaze over the lands, their hands entwined. No more is said for a moment, as Hyperion relishes the scene before him. He closes his eyes, letting his other senses consume.
GAIA | “My love, we must go soon. Time waits for no one, mortal or Titan alike.”
HYPERION | “Cronus can have his time, leave me to remain here in this dream for eternity and I will never cease to be happy.”
GAIA | “You can make that request in person. Now come, we must go… Hyperion, it is time to wake up.”
But he does not listen, does not hear. He wishes to remain, to enjoy this moment forever, but he cannot. The voice continues, he feels their presence, feels their breath.
GAIA | “Wake up Hyperion… it is time to wake up.”
ADAMS | “...Day 77 of testing, and it seems the subject is growing more and more cognitive by the passing days. His level of responsiveness has grown from mere speculation to clear awareness, moving in relation to certain words, names, smells, sounds and so on. It appears our patient is in his own battle, between mind and body. All we can do now is work on seeing who wins this fight.”
The small gathering of medical professionals swarms Dr. Adams as he reports his findings on the patient. Dormant and comatose, Knox remains unmoved and unchanged. His complexion is paled without sunlight, his body mass has shrunk from the absence of motion. But the giant remains as just that. A sleeping, terrifying giant.
ADAMS | “We have run several tests to determine what it is that is causing this to happen, as according to all medical journals written on his condition… Mr. Knox should be fully brain dead, excuse the terminology.” The doctor pauses for a moment to allow his observations to sink in, this crew of trainees taking their notes as needed. “His brain wave patterns have identified his cognitive state to be very healthy, albeit responding to other sources other than our own.”
TRAINEE | “Can you explain that statement further?”
ADAMS | “To summarize it politely, we understand that he is dreaming as many patients with comatose tend to do. However they do so at much lighter levels than Mr. Knox here, who has somehow battled his motor senses to react to these patterns. Clenching fists, kicking legs, shaking and so forth. We are trying to analyze these ‘dreams’ and test his triggers, but so far we have proven unsuccessful.”
The doctor allows the trainees another moment to complete their notes but can’t help but ignore their invested interest in Knox laying on the bed. Their eyes and body language insinuate they know him more than just a random patient.
ADAMS | “I dare say some of you have heard of Mr. Knox from his past endeavors?” He spots a few eyes widened, and sees their heads nodding. “It’s funny, I remember hearing about him on the news and hearing the horrible stories. The terrible things he did to those people, those ‘cultist’ followers of his. But then I remember my son watching him on the television, when he was a wrestler… boy, was he a sight.”
The general consensus of the young trainees is that they remember him more from his wrestling escapades in the Ascension Wrestling Federation and to further extents, the XHF Network. The doctor doesn’t see this as a danger, so he beckons for them to move closer.
TRAINEE | “I remember when he won the AWF Heavyweight title… I was still in high school.”
TRAINEE | “I was in year one of Med School when he first appeared in the Royal Rumble… jeez, he was so massive.”
ADAMS | “The persona of a television celebrity, he did his job well. He captured the imaginations and attention of all who watched him. My own son had his t-shirts, his toys, a fake plastic trident… yeah, he sure was something.”
The trainees gathered around take their looks and slowly move away to let Dr. Adams finish up.
ADAMS | “We can come by here again next week and do further observations. He has been getting better by the week but I feat we are still a ways off getting anything conclusive. Mr. Knox is going to be in our care for quite some time unfortunately, unless he decides to just wake up and walk out!” The joke gets some giggles and smiles from his trainees, which Dr. Adams revels in. “Come along now students, we have other patients to attend to. Let is leave Mr. Knox here to catch his sleep. Or perhaps as you know him better, we should go by his alter ego Hyperion. Would you prefer that? Give us a signal if that is the case… come on Hyperion, wake up!”
More giggles and smiles for the doctor… that quickly turns into expressions of horror. Dr. Adams doesn’t understand so turns to face Hyperion… whose eyes are now wide open and looking around the room. The trainees back away quite quickly, but Adams is in disbelief and leans in closer.
ADAMS | “Jesus Christ… Knox, you’re awake! This is… this is a mirac-”
His words are cut off quickly by the lunging hand grasping him by the throat. Knox slowly sits upright in the bed, dazed and washed out looking. He looks around the room, as other trainees come forward to help release Dr. Adams. They yell at him to let go, pleading with Knox to loosen his grip. But he doesn’t, even with several medical professionals forcing him. Thinking on their toes, one of the girls grabs a sedative from a nearby cabinet and quickly jabs it into the neck of Knox.
His grip loosens and Dr. Adams stumbles backwards, shocked and terrified. As Knox falls back onto the pillow, his eyes slowly closing one more, he manages to get out his first words in months.
KNOX | “...my name... is Hyperion!”
DOCTOR | “Yes, he’s been like this for days now. Honestly, we are not sure if he will recover from this injury. Traumatic brain injuries are… complicated. And this is one we have not seen before.”
COP | “How so?”
DOCTOR | “Well, it appears his cognitive functions are shut down completely. He is not responding to any prompts or signals from us but he is showing minimal brain activity.”
COP | “Speak to me like I’m a cop and not a brain surgeon, Doc.”
DOCTOR | “Ah yes, sorry. Normally when a patient is in deep comatosis, their body will still react so certain changes or signals. Temperature, position, food or drinks. Essentially their brain still controls their functions, and keeps them alive. Think of their beating heart. Other patients are not so fortunate, and rely entirely on the aid of machinery.”
COP | “And Knox here?”
DOCTOR | “He’s not that bad, however his body still doesn’t react to the above signals. He only seems to ‘react’ around certain sounds, smells, words or names… like he’s still awake, but he’s not ‘him’ anymore… does that make any sense?”
COP | “Not a lick.”
DOCTOR | “Yeah I thought the same as soon as I said it aloud… James Knox here, is in a coma. However his brain activity is still reacting as if he were awake, just not responding to everything. We are still running tests however… OK this is just a theory for now, and sounds crazy but I have thought about one thing…”
COP | “...and that theory is…?”
DOCTOR | “Well, he’s a known television celebrity and public menace, all which he blames on his ‘alter ego’, right? Well what if that isn’t all a stunt? Say, he actually is deeply affected with schizophrenia and suffers from dual-personality disorder, or interprets this world as if through the eyes of another.”
COP | “So you believe he really is this Hyperion character? The prophet or whatever he was when he led all those cultists? C’mon Doc, you’re a man of science, don’t tell me you buy into that horseshit.”
DOCTOR | “No no, all that stuff about him being a God and that is purely nonsense, however his dissociative behavior and his deep belief in this new persona… I truly believe he was a victim of psychosis-induced-schizophrenia. And from what I am seeing here, the results from my testing…”
COP | “...yes? I need answers here Doc, what’s his verdict?”
DOCTOR | “For all intents and purposes, James Knox is dead… brain dead. I do not see any recovery from him unfortunately. However, the patterns I am seeing, the response rates I am reading indicate to me that we might still be able to save ‘some’ of him.”
Mount Sinai hospital in Manhattan, New York City. A piss-poor year for the medical institution, the onslaught of the pandemic from the novel virus has wracked the facility and exhausted the staff, the personnel, the world truly. Teeming with doctors outnumbers by patients new and old, every service offered is heavily burdened during these trying times, but nothing near as tasked as their ICU units.
As the floodgates of new patients pour in, the eyes and attention of the local law enforcers is distracted by the arrival of a known trouble maker, a New York resident with a rap sheet longer than his leg. Notoriously released prematurely from his incarceration, the story has grown many legs but remains a walk regardless.
James Knox, and the story of Hyperion.
The wrestling superstar-turned-cult leader broke the headlines over the past few years with his wild antics and bigger persona on screen, the ‘God Amongst Men’ character he portrayed on screen- Hyperion. Knox wasn’t a stranger to media attention, but rarely was it as positive. A known criminal affiliated with a Brooklyn-based biker gang named the ‘Immortals MC’, Knox seemingly cut his ties with the crew shortly after a brutal and bloodied clash with their rivals.
Cops followed his actions but grew tired once it became clear he left that world behind to begin this new, bizarre chapter into professional wrestling. And who could blame him, he became a sensation overnight. His promo’s on the microphone were as baffling as his antics outside the ring, truly believing himself to be the reincarnated feature of this wacky story.
COP | “Then my job here is done. I was sent to get a report on his situation, and if you think he’s no longer a threat to the general public then you can sign off on this for me.” The cop produces a very authoritative looking form and hands it to the doctor. “One less nutjob loose on the streets of New York is never a bad thing in my books.”
DOCTOR | “He cannot so much as move his toes right now so yes, he is no longer a concern of yours. But we might still save him yet-”
COP | “Save it, I’m not here to give a shit about his health. I’m only here to surmise if he’s still a threat. And by the looks of him... I don’t think we need to worry about a vegetable.”
A shadow of his former self, Knox adhered to the Hyperion character like glue and allowed himself to fully gorge on the persona. It has been reported that he never ‘lost control’, it was always Knox playing a character. But to those who believe otherwise, to those that truly saw a God reborn on Earth, a mythological creature from the Heavens that stood before them… they will tell you Knox died years ago.
That Knox was never there, only their new God - Hyperion.
His size and strength was a big boon for him in the Immortals MC, a powerful fighter that could throw his weight around. Wherever the law was called to break up a fight, wherever it was they were sure to see Knox at the helm of it. His giant stature and booming voice mixed with his arrogant, cocky attitude was always a recipe for disaster. He spent more time inside than outside during his growing years, and less as he got older - he learned how to not get caught.
The Ascension Wrestling Federation was different however. He was controlled, he behaved. He lived by the rules of the popular combat league, he developed a fighting style that fit in well between the four ropes. He learned how to use his power and athleticism to entertain fans and demolish opponents. To see him move with such speed and confidence, such power and finesse despite his size was… sensational.
DOCTOR | “So will your men continue to come here, or will you now leave us work in peace?”
The doctor hands the officer the form, signed and folded.
COP | “Thank you Doc, I will bring this form back to the Captain, see what he says. But in this state, I can’t see why there is any point. Knox isn’t going anywhere.”
DOCTOR | “I don’t think you need to worry about Knox anymore, to be quite frank. But if my theories are correct…”
COP | “Save it Doc, I’m not here for theories. If he ever wakes up, call me.” The cop hands the doctor a card with his contact details on it. “And if not, then the world just got a lot brighter.” The cop walks to the door of the private ward and stops to turn back for one last look. “Y’know, I’ve locked this idiot up countless times, chased him down streets on his damn Harley and every time I thought if he wanted my head off, he could take it without breaking a sweat… it’s kinda weird to see him like this now.”
DOCTOR | “He might just wake up to wreak havoc on the city once again… you never know.”
COP | “Good one Doc… if his condition worsens, do us all a favor… turn off the machines.” The cop opens the door to leave. “ You’ve got your hands full, what with the virus. I’ll pull my men from the door, Knox is no more a public threat than a damn statue now.”
His rise in the AWF was unforeseen, this outsider that arrived at the beginning of the federation and caused waves. He fought and sold out venues all the way from their small town roots to their mainstay on TV screens around the globe. AWF was going places, but the likes of Hyperion got them there faster. However with fame and health comes power, and not all men do well when they have that much power.
Light-minded folks will grasp onto any notion that helps them out of a poor situation, whether it be religion or faith, or even a new messiah. To some, Hyperion was all of that. A walking golem of power, a shining bright light to dispel the darkness in their lives, an escape for the weak and the afraid to feel safe, to feel protected. He filled the gap that many felt, and he became their idol. Their inspiration. Their God.
As time passed Knox and Hyperion were conflicted, each persona battling it’s way to the surface. When one was in control, the other clawed to take back the reins. A mind torn apart, two fire burning for control. The stage act was soon forgotten, the fantasy dispelled and suddenly it became clear that Knox was not a healthy man. This ‘Hyperion’ persona was a manifestation of his own delusions of grandeur, his own penchant for regency. He wanted to lead these people, to oversee them, to command them.
He wanted supremacy.
Knox was still very much ‘awake’, yet Hyperion seemed to speak for him. Their inner turmoil created a cataclysm for those close to him, as Hyperion turned everyone away from him through acts of violence and spite. Those that remained by his side sought the same thing he did. Power and control, recognition and reward. He formed a band of partners that saw the world not through the eyes of a wrestler, a celebrity, but outside those walls.
They wanted a battalion.
He led this newly formed militia to battle, from his closely-kept allies to his growing numbers of followers. He guided their way through the ranks of the AWF, toppling the competition. He drew the eyes and attention of everyone that crossed their path, and exacted whatever justice he saw fit. He soaked up and absorbed all the weak minded, lost souls of middle America, his numbers reaching the four digit mark. He had built himself an army.
He called them his ‘Legion’. And he was their their Champion.
DOCTOR | “Seems like you’ve gotten away with murder, James Knox. Released early from prison, and welcomed back by hundreds of loyal worshippers. Hmm, I’m not sure if you are a genius or a mad-man. Either way, it seems even the law doesn’t want you anymore.” The doctor crosses the roof and closes the blinds, the dark nights shy now concealed. “A free man by all accounts, I’m sure they did that so they won’t need to foot your medical bills. Lucky you.”
The doctor picks up Knox’s file and takes a quick read through, making some notes as he checks levels and measurements on the machines connected to his lifeless body.
DOCTOR | “Attacked from behind, blunt force trauma to the skull, repeated abrasions. Fractured skull and massive brain trauma. I wonder what stopped them from finishing the job… might have been better had they gone through with it fully and killed you. What kind of life is this for you?”
The doctor's sentiment is not lost, a man of medical prowess doubting the merciful actions of others. Knox did not end up in here by accident, nor by his own innocence. His ‘Church of Hyperion’ grew too powerful, far too fast. It caught the eyes of the media, people terrified they were looking at another Heaven's Gate, another Waco incident waiting to happen. Loyal and devoted followers, who came from nothing to finally have something. No, this Church was worse.
The world was on the cusp of another Manson, ready to attack.
Countless families ruined, torn apart through varied beliefs and contradictory ideals of what their messiah should look like. A mockery towards modern religions, an attack on abnormal beliefs. Those who knelt and prayed for their God did so at the cost of their loved ones, their families. They gave it all to Hyperion, turning their backs on their origins, all for a slice of the Heaven he promised so dearly.
Nobody even batted an eyelid when he started to offer his ‘Ambrosia’. The ‘nectar of the Gods’ he called it, the forbidden fruit that would allow his followers to open their minds and see what he saw, to glimpse this same Heaven promised to those willing to join him. The jelly-like substance enjoyed by Gods and Titans of mythology, recreated in a laboratory in middle America, circa the start of a new pandemic, 2019.
To say the substance was a failure would be a huge insult to failures. It was catastrophic, a psychedelic that didn’t just melt the minds of it’s users but tore them from their own very existence. Some collapsed into psychosis, some dropped unconscious only to barely recover with time. Others closed their eyes and never awoke again. The numbers of his followers quickly swayed, from those loving to those dying or gone. It was a tragedy that could have been avoided, yet Hyperion believed it to be a necessary step.
He played with people’s lives. And they lost.
Despite the number of casualties on his hands, Hyperion pushed forward and ordered more Ambrosia. More offerings. More gifts from the Gods, for his followers to devour. But one thing would hinder his plans, one thing would stop his progress - the AWF. The same company that helped create this giant also saw to ruin him. His final bout under their banner occurred during their Winter PPV, Hyperion versus Seth Dillinger for his Prestige title. The match did not unfold as planned, with a distraction costing Hyperion’s attention on his opponent and ultimately his defeat.
Fueled by rage, his night only worsened as his actions finally caught up to him and he was apprehended for his crimes. For his leadership in this Church, one of modern-America’s fastest rising cults. The deaths of many fell on his head, and he alone would be the patsy for the wrath of the justice system.
He was sentenced to a mere twenty five years for his involvement. He served six months.
Despite his track record his followers were loyal, they still revered him and loved him. They were everything he had in this world, and he was more to them. Setbacks and controversy aside, they broke their God free from custody and released him back onto this world. They released a demon they were not ready for, a giant that had nothing but time to plan his next act. Dwelling on his past and those that opposed him, Hyperion was free with a vendetta. Nobody was sure if it was truly Hyperion in charge, or if Knox played the ace up his sleeve to fool these people.
It mattered not. He had ruined lives, ruined families. He had made more enemies than followers. His taste of freedom came with the caveat of constant danger, and even with an army surrounding him he proved to be vulnerable.
Somebody got the chance, and they took it. Somebody got close, and they pounced. Hyperion was a God trapped in the body of a man, but men can be broken.
DOCTOR | “Nurse, can we have someone clean his wrapping and bandages in the morning? It looks like he hasn’t been cared to in days.” The doctor calls a nursing aid across the hall, before replacing Knox’s file at the end of his bed. His rounds with the menace finished for the day. “Knox, the conversation has been excellent as always, just how I like it… quiet!” The doctor takes his leave of the room, pausing by the doorway to take one last look back.
DOCTOR | “You caused a whole lot of stink in the world Knox, but there is still some fight left in you. I know it. Or should we still call you by the other name, as a reminder of the google ol’ days… Hyperion, long may he reign.”
The doctor reaches for the light switch, but freezes in his tracks. Knox’s hand, twitching and moving… clenching slowly into a fist.
The roaming fields of Sparta are awash in golden light, from the prized crop in the fields to the shimmering sandstone on the surrounding hills. As the wind blows slowly, coursing its fingers through the blades of grass, the light dances and flirts with the shade from the clouds above. A harmonious melody of silence.
The efforts of his labour and the gifts from children, Hyperion savours the world around him created by his own offspring. The rising dawn, it’s warming light, a sweet offering from his daughter Eos. The days light, the valuable gift of sight gifted to us from his son Helios. And the comforting embrace of the night's sky, the soothing reprise from the day gone, courtesy of his daughter Selene.
The Titan of Light, and his children command the very circle of day and night that this world adheres to. From his daughter starting our day to his son feeding the crops and plants of this world with his bright sunlight, to his daughter closing out this chapter with her enveloping darkness. Hyperion has a grasp of the greatest power on this land, yet he is humbled by it also. His family have given him so much more than he has ever given them.
His family is everything to him. A Titan serves no purpose without a family to provide for, a family to protect and to preserve. His namesake, his seed is why he is here. A War looms on the horizon, the Gods of Mount Olympus tire of obeying their peers and following the old rules. They wish to fight for control, seeking to end the era of Titans, and crumble Mount Othrys.
Where there is light there exists those that wish to extinguish it. Hyperion fights for the light, yet his nephews wish to quince that. Zeus claims his power, Hades claims his children, Poseidon claims his weaponry. The three brothers gather on the edge of the world, poised and ready to strike, an army of immortal Gods and Goddesses supporting them.
Hyperion, the Titan of Light, cannot win this fight.
But he can enjoy one last day with his family, one last moment of bliss before he needs to wake up to this new reality. As he walks through the fields, his lover Gaia by his side, he savours every moment, every sense that is tingled. The smell of the fresh bloom of nearby anemone lingers on his senses, toying with his taste and smell. A pleasing aroma of honey and lavender.
The sound of birds singing above, calling to one another, playing their games. It mimics the joy felt by his own children as they chase one another through the lands before him, ducking and hiding within the tall blades of grass and the golden wheat. Their laughter, their cries of joy… this is Heaven on Earth.
The sight of the golden hills and the dancing clouds above, the deep rich blueness of the boundless sky, the shadows of the clouds chasing the light to and fro on the grass before him. The sight of his sister Gaia, his beautiful companion, the mother to his children smiling brightly, radiant. Her golden hair flows in the wind, almost weightless. Like smoke, like seeds in the wind.
HYPERION | “The War for the Heavens need not happen… let the Olympians have it. To me this here is Heaven.”
GAIA | “Foolish Hyperion, you praise these lands too much. They are but fields of wheat and hills of soil. They are mortal tools for this vulnerable world.”
HYPERION | “Perhaps… but look upon them, and tell me you do not see their beauty.”
They both gaze over the lands, their hands entwined. No more is said for a moment, as Hyperion relishes the scene before him. He closes his eyes, letting his other senses consume.
GAIA | “My love, we must go soon. Time waits for no one, mortal or Titan alike.”
HYPERION | “Cronus can have his time, leave me to remain here in this dream for eternity and I will never cease to be happy.”
GAIA | “You can make that request in person. Now come, we must go… Hyperion, it is time to wake up.”
But he does not listen, does not hear. He wishes to remain, to enjoy this moment forever, but he cannot. The voice continues, he feels their presence, feels their breath.
GAIA | “Wake up Hyperion… it is time to wake up.”
ADAMS | “...Day 77 of testing, and it seems the subject is growing more and more cognitive by the passing days. His level of responsiveness has grown from mere speculation to clear awareness, moving in relation to certain words, names, smells, sounds and so on. It appears our patient is in his own battle, between mind and body. All we can do now is work on seeing who wins this fight.”
The small gathering of medical professionals swarms Dr. Adams as he reports his findings on the patient. Dormant and comatose, Knox remains unmoved and unchanged. His complexion is paled without sunlight, his body mass has shrunk from the absence of motion. But the giant remains as just that. A sleeping, terrifying giant.
ADAMS | “We have run several tests to determine what it is that is causing this to happen, as according to all medical journals written on his condition… Mr. Knox should be fully brain dead, excuse the terminology.” The doctor pauses for a moment to allow his observations to sink in, this crew of trainees taking their notes as needed. “His brain wave patterns have identified his cognitive state to be very healthy, albeit responding to other sources other than our own.”
TRAINEE | “Can you explain that statement further?”
ADAMS | “To summarize it politely, we understand that he is dreaming as many patients with comatose tend to do. However they do so at much lighter levels than Mr. Knox here, who has somehow battled his motor senses to react to these patterns. Clenching fists, kicking legs, shaking and so forth. We are trying to analyze these ‘dreams’ and test his triggers, but so far we have proven unsuccessful.”
The doctor allows the trainees another moment to complete their notes but can’t help but ignore their invested interest in Knox laying on the bed. Their eyes and body language insinuate they know him more than just a random patient.
ADAMS | “I dare say some of you have heard of Mr. Knox from his past endeavors?” He spots a few eyes widened, and sees their heads nodding. “It’s funny, I remember hearing about him on the news and hearing the horrible stories. The terrible things he did to those people, those ‘cultist’ followers of his. But then I remember my son watching him on the television, when he was a wrestler… boy, was he a sight.”
The general consensus of the young trainees is that they remember him more from his wrestling escapades in the Ascension Wrestling Federation and to further extents, the XHF Network. The doctor doesn’t see this as a danger, so he beckons for them to move closer.
TRAINEE | “I remember when he won the AWF Heavyweight title… I was still in high school.”
TRAINEE | “I was in year one of Med School when he first appeared in the Royal Rumble… jeez, he was so massive.”
ADAMS | “The persona of a television celebrity, he did his job well. He captured the imaginations and attention of all who watched him. My own son had his t-shirts, his toys, a fake plastic trident… yeah, he sure was something.”
The trainees gathered around take their looks and slowly move away to let Dr. Adams finish up.
ADAMS | “We can come by here again next week and do further observations. He has been getting better by the week but I feat we are still a ways off getting anything conclusive. Mr. Knox is going to be in our care for quite some time unfortunately, unless he decides to just wake up and walk out!” The joke gets some giggles and smiles from his trainees, which Dr. Adams revels in. “Come along now students, we have other patients to attend to. Let is leave Mr. Knox here to catch his sleep. Or perhaps as you know him better, we should go by his alter ego Hyperion. Would you prefer that? Give us a signal if that is the case… come on Hyperion, wake up!”
More giggles and smiles for the doctor… that quickly turns into expressions of horror. Dr. Adams doesn’t understand so turns to face Hyperion… whose eyes are now wide open and looking around the room. The trainees back away quite quickly, but Adams is in disbelief and leans in closer.
ADAMS | “Jesus Christ… Knox, you’re awake! This is… this is a mirac-”
His words are cut off quickly by the lunging hand grasping him by the throat. Knox slowly sits upright in the bed, dazed and washed out looking. He looks around the room, as other trainees come forward to help release Dr. Adams. They yell at him to let go, pleading with Knox to loosen his grip. But he doesn’t, even with several medical professionals forcing him. Thinking on their toes, one of the girls grabs a sedative from a nearby cabinet and quickly jabs it into the neck of Knox.
His grip loosens and Dr. Adams stumbles backwards, shocked and terrified. As Knox falls back onto the pillow, his eyes slowly closing one more, he manages to get out his first words in months.
KNOX | “...my name... is Hyperion!”