Post by Deleted on Aug 7, 2021 10:45:05 GMT -5
THE AFTERMATH OF ‘FALLOUT X’.
Lazarus Arjen and Charon Seede made short, bloody work of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK at Fallout X. ‘The Massacre’ as they have come to be known as, made that name reality. It truly was a massacre, and in doing so - they made a statement. They had their eyes on the Project Honor Tag Team division and put everyone in the division on notice in one short, violent affair.
The blood stained boots of Lazarus and Charon sat in a utility sink in an undisclosed location. The room was dark, dirty, grimey and the mixture of cold and hot - with a touch more hot than cold - water poured freely from the faucet. The water that fell off of the boot material had a tint of red to it. Lazarus stood over the sink, wiping away any last splatter of blood from the sole or the toes of the boots. There was a single light bulb that illuminated (as much of) the room (as possible), but the real light imminated from the room next door. That was until the shadowed figure of Charon Seede stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
“How is it coming?” Charon asked, his voice creeping through the darkness. The sudden introduction to a new sound, one that was different from the incessant, mundane sounds of running and splashing water, did little to affect Lazarus. He remained statuesque in posture and robotic in his movements. The butt of a cigarette hung between his lips loosely, the cherry at the end burning the tobacco within the paper shell. His eyes narrowed, his vision burned and temporarily blurred by the smoke.
“Perth’s drainage systems now temporarily contain a mixture of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK’s blood.” Lazarus said coldly, shifting his body to set one pair of boots on the ground at his feet. He repeated the process with the other pair before twisting the knobs of the faucet to turn the water off. Bringing his arm up, his fingers wrapped around the cigarette which he removed from between his lips after a deep inhale. Exhaling a cloud of smoke just a few short seconds later, he began to move toward the shadowed figure of Charon. “They should thank whatever god they pray to that their bodies aren’t food for maggots and worms right now. Apparently murder is frowned upon.”
“They weren’t worth the trouble. A mangled, broken face speaks volumes. Leave them to suffer. Leave them with the constant reminder that we are still out there - and that we can finish the job at any time.” Charon said. His voice was stern, cold, and unforgiven.
“We did what we set out to do.” Lazarus replied, standing face to face with Charon. “Open the eyes of Project Honor to the horrors of man. To make them see the violence in which we are capable. The two we victimized tonight will never be the same, and whatever - whoever - comes next? We do the same to them; only this time - the violence, the intensity and the bloodshed will be increased. Whatever - whoever - comes next will not be met with the same restraint that we showed to Bishop and BEZERK.”
Lazarus lifted his right foot, twisting his leg in order to put the cigarette out on the bottom of the military boot he wore. Lazarus’ attention was caught by the innocent laughter of his daughter in the next room, watching something on the television no doubt. It was that innocence that Lazarus wanted to protect, wanted to prolong. In his own twisted, depraved mind, his innocence was taken when he was Maisie’s age - so he would purify the world (through this industry) of violence with his own brand of violence, to ensure Maisie would have a good life unlike the one he lived.
“The only way innocence remains pure is by slaughtering the field to provide that future for someone like Maisie. Together, you and I are more than capable of doing that. Of doing the same thing that I have done, and am doing in Europe. The purification process will be bloody, will be violent and Project Honor will despise us because at the end of the day; we are the cancer that will systematically tear through this company until everything associated with it is left for dead.” Lazarus said bluntly to his partner, who had his head lowered - listening closely. Charon nodded in agreement, which caused Lazarus to place his hand on Charon’s shoulder - giving it a gentle pat before walking past him and back into the room where his daughter was.
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“When we looked into the eyes of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK, do you know what we saw? Fear. When they stood across the ring from us at Fallout Ten, do you know what they saw? The End. And this is what we are capable of; ending anyone and everyone that we encounter - with no mercy, with no hesitation.”
Lazarus was no stranger to Japan. There were forces in the Japanese-based Strong Style Wrestling organization that drew Lazarus’ presence to Osaka on more than one occasion. Many would speculate that it was Noah Reigner, and while it was true - Reigner’s influence pulled him from the dregs of the Netherlands deathmatch scene (which was almost nonexistent), it wasn’t Noah that kept him in Japan. There was something else, something more sinister and from the shadows Lazarus watched the art of violence being taught to him by the grand master of such. Like a student to DiVinci or Picasao.
So, the view of Osaka-jo Hall wasn’t a new sight for Lazarus. While many would be jumping at the chance to cut a promo in front of the legendary arena - or making a B-line to Ribera Steakhouse in Tokyo which is known to be a Combat-themed restaurant (including professional wrestling) in order to proudly wear one of those satin jackets; Lazarus was not. Instead, Lazarus and Maisie walk along the paved area surrounding the iconic Osaka Castle. Lazarus was never into this type of thing, sightseeing and touristy-shit - but this was for Maisie to have some memory of, even if there was a chance that it would slip from her memory as she progressed in age, it was still a bonding moment for them. With Maisie a few feet ahead, walking along a (barely) elevated border that surrounds the grass - asif it were a tightrope or something, Lazarus watched her - his hands stuffed into the pockets of the hooded sweater he wore. The hood up over his head, his hair hanging loosely framing his face. Feeling the camera’s presence with him, he spoke.
“But two weeks ago, we did something uncharacteristic of us. See; there is one thing that Charon and I don’t have -- mercy. I showed no mercy to Tyler Wolfe in Europe when I stabbed her repeatedly in the head with a bundle of syringes. I showed no mercy to Savannah Sunshine here in Japan when I also drove the needles into her scalp before giving her the Assault Driver off of the top rope onto the apron of the ring. Charon and I simply do not care for the well-being or the lives of any person we step into the ring against. We’re the type of people that would happily slit your throat and watch you bleed out, just because we can.”
“So two weeks ago when we met Jordan Bishop and BEZERK in the ring at Dead by Daylight, we did something uncharacteristic - we showed restraint. We showed mercy to them. Sure, we left them mangled and broken. Sure, it’s highly unlikely they will ever compete in a Project Honor ring - but the goal was to leave not shells of former athletes; the goal was to leave rotting, decaying corpses on display. The goal was to put them in a bag and leave them outside the door of Christian DeMarco - a little indication of our intentions for Collision Course.”
“Don’t think - for one second - that we’re going to be that generous again.”
Lazarus’ eyes glanced from the camera to his daughter, then back again. He never let her out of his sight, just like the Project Honor tag team championships that he and Charon had their eyes on.
“At Fallout we’ve been given another tag team bout. Another statement to be made in the tag team division, although I’m not sure if you can classify our opponents as real teams. Two different teams thrown together, consisting of four random members of the roster that DeMarco could find. Two teams not in this Collision Course tournament - simply because they’re not teams. They are loose ends. The runts of the roster with no direction, with no purpose. The unwanted four of the Fallout roster; we will put an end to the misery of their miserable lives. We will, once more, live up to our name of the Massacre - and this time we will not have restraint. This time we will finish what we start, this time we will leave bodies at our feet and their blood dripping from our fingertips.”
“This is in no way a statement for the sake of being “edgey”. This isn’t an act that we’ve put on to gain attention, or for shock and awe reactions. Myself and Charon, we come from ruins. Myself and Charon, we were born from violence - this is all that we know. My earliest memory is one of cruelty, of bloodshed and it was that memory that haunted me my entire life. It was that memory that created the darkness inside of me, the darkness that fuels my taste for carnage. The violence that Charon and I are capable of - the violence that we will bring to Project Honor is by design. This is who we are; we are merciless - ruthless - and bloodthirsty savages. Who we are not - is someone delusional enough to believe he is part of the Monarchy. A faux-Ruler with no ‘kingdom’ to speak of. Who we are not - is someone so obsessed with their quote-unquote ‘ability’ that we have to build an entire story of accomplishments that may, or may not be legitimate. Who we are not - is some low life drunk who haphazardly throws his fist around, no matter the circumstance and consequence. Who we are not - is someone setting our gender back two decades or more with simple minded beliefs and ideals.”
“What we are beyond merciless - beyond ruthless - and beyond bloodthirsty, is the fucking guillotine that will sever the heads of these useless runts that have been left in the ‘Free Puppy’ box that Christian DeMarco uses to book Fallout events.”
He paused for a brief moment, allowing his words to sink into everyone’s heads. He knew his opponents would be the first to click this video package - to listen to it and dissect his words. And with a cold, hard stare into the camera, he addressed them.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Artemis … except, not yours. You have no crown to speak of. You can’t brag, or boast about past accomplishments nor can you even say you’ve had your hand held high in victory here. So educate us; exactly what are you the Ruler of? I said before what myself and Charon are, I said before from where we came - and how we were created. What about you, though? One too many episodes of a fantasy television show that depicts kings and queens in a positive light, and you got the bright idea for a ‘gimmick’ to make you stand apart from everyone else? News flash, Artemis. I can throw a rock and hit a so-called ‘King’ or ‘Queen’, ‘Prince’ or ‘Princess’ - any sovereign title you can think of, it’s been done. You are no different than any one of those people, fresh out of a Dojo or gym in the middle of nowhere which is why you were easy work for Pyro at Fallout Ten. A man with a legitimate opportunity to springboard yourself into the upper echelon of Project Honor, and you let it slip through your grasp without much of a fight. But that was then, Artemis, against an opponent who just wanted to survive. Now you’re tasked with standing across the ring from two men who don’t care about survival, who don’t care about victories. The only thing we care about is violence. The only thing we care about is hurting people which is unfortunate for you. Unfortunate because, unlike Fallout Ten, you will not be walking out of this match to continue this fantasy you find yourself living in. Unlike Fallout Ten, there is no escape. Charon and I are going to bury you. We’re going to behead the supposed ‘Ruler’, and we’re going to leave your worthless, headless corpse in an unmarked grave. No respect, no remorse. This is your end, Artemis.”
“But not just him, the same goes for you - Yelich. Osaka, Japan will be the final resting place for your so-called ‘storied’ career. A man, a former champion with no historical evidence to back it up. ‘The Undefeated’ who has yet to win a single Project Honor match; interesting. I’m going to be up front with you, Yelich - even if this championship win of yours in the past, even if the forced vacancy after your undefeated streak is true? I don’t give a shit. You could be a former top tier champion, and I would still stab my needles into your fuckin’ scalp - ask Tyler Wolfe in Kingdom Pro. A world champion there, a champion in a global organization - and I stabbed her up like she was a junkie on the corner. Ask Savannah Sunshine, she’s felt the same thing. I have zero regard for anyone - if you step into the ring with me, with Charon - you’re risking not only your career but your fuckin’ life. Did you think I was going to hold your hand, promise you a close and competitive fight? Did you think I was going to give you a sportsman-like hand shake at the beginning of this thing? If so, your ignorance is showing. Let me make it crystal clear for you; what Charon and I did to Bishop and BEZERK was us toying with them. Stomping Bishop’s head repeatedly into the steel chair until he lost consciousness? That was child’s play. What we will do to you, will make an execution style murder look PG and we will have no problem doing it. Myself and Charon have our eyes firmly set on the Project Honor tag team championships, on Collision Course in just over a month. We plan on wiping every team that signed up for the tournament out of existence - but until then, we’re going to show the world just how fucking dangerous we can be. Until Collision Course, we’re going to take the scraps that Project Honor doesn’t want - like yourself - and violently put an end to them. After we’re finished with you, the story told one day about the career of ‘Yelich’ won’t be one of success and prosperity - but one of tragedy.”
Lazarus’ words were cold, laced with hate and dripping with venom. He cared nothing for the four people that he would step into the ring with at Fallout, he cared nothing for almost everyone in this industry. There were few exceptions, but Yelich - Artemis - Earl and Layota were not among them.
His stare turned away from the camera. Maisie had stopped her forward movements and looked up at the Castle. The sun was sitting high in the sky, but from her standpoint, it was hidden by the structure above her. Lazarus looked up at it as well, then back to her - who has now turned her attention away, childishly jumping off of the elevated platform she stood on. Lazarus watched with a hint of a smile touching his lips. Not only smiling at her youth and innocence, but the subtle detail that she didn’t look down before she jumped. Her landing was perfect, but the same subtle details don’t work for everyone ...
“A leap of faith. Something you do, even though you’re not sure if it’s right or you will succeed. This sums up Earl Boyd. A man who takes a leap of faith every night he spends, drinking his weight in alcohol and fighting whatever other patron decides to give it a go. And to his credit, he’s been successful. He’s made a name for himself, I bet, in whatever shithole, backwoods town he’s from. Am I going to credit him for ‘talent’? No. I credit luck - and the thing about luck is … it runs out. Consider your lucky streak over Earl Boyde. You may be the man in whatever bars and establishments in your town - but come to where I call home. Come to where Charon comes home, and you wouldn’t last a second. The moment you step into a bar with that tough guy swagger, is the moment you’re made a target. Come to where I’m from, and you’ll be eaten up and spit out before you can ask for your first beer. You’re a lot like myself and Charon in a way. You don’t shy away from trouble - in fact, like us, you welcome it with open arms. But unlike us, you’re a man with a lucky streak. A man who has some power in his fists, but is ultimately just talk when you’re stacked against men like myself and Charon. Or against women like Elena DeDraca, who I can watch from the shadows with a smile on my face - because that killer that we see now, I take credit for unleashing. At Fallout Ten, she made quick work of you - what will happen at this upcoming Fallout is we finish what she started. We finish the job and put your worthless corpse in the ground once and for all. And there will lay the wanna’be tough guy. The man who embodies the ideal that a big fish in a small pond will succumb to the horrors and violence of the deep oceans.”
“And while we speak of the depths of the ocean that is Project Honor, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our own version of Dory - Latoya Hixx. I’m honestly surprised Elena didn’t drag you to the depths of hell at Fallout Ten, considering your intentions to return women's professional wrestling to the dark ages. A ‘diva’? There is no room here for those, there is no business in the ring for ‘divas’. This isn’t a catwalk and you’re not surrounded by fucking models. This is professional wrestling and you’re surrounded by fucking killers. You pride yourself in being a role model; strong, sexy, beautiful and all of those other adjectives that you throw around - almost as haphazardly as Boyde throws his fists, but you are none of the above. What you are is a walking, talking embarrassment to this industry. A woman who prides herself on being a - what - hoeski? Yeah, you’re a fucking role model. I don’t know what your point or purpose in this company, or in this world is - nor do I care. If you're thick enough to believe that you belong in the ring with people like me and Charon? Then you deserve exactly what is coming to you. You deserve all of the pain, all of the torment and all of the violence coming your way - and then whatever purpose you have in this company and in this world will be removed. You will be left as a lifeless corpse on the autopsy table, waiting for someone to come and claim you. Charon and I won’t spare you, we won’t allow you to continue to breathe because you are a joke. A detriment to the progression of this industry. And it’s best to remove you from the equation before my daughter could even entertain the thought of finding someone as classless and pathetic as you to be a ‘role model’. You are an over-hyped and glorified whore; I will play the role of Jack the Ripper.”
His lips curled into a sinister little grin. His hands moved up, pushing the hood off of his head and he stopped his movements. Maisie skipped around in the background, picking up a small pebble and using all of her might to throw it.
“Don’t think - for one second - that any of you are walking out of Fallout on your own, if at all. Don't think - for one second - that any of you are going to embarrass Charon and I, because in just one second we will take away your entire fucking life.”
“Everything we do - from Fallout Ten onward - is a lead up to Collision Course. Everything we do - from Fallout Ten and onward - is what you will later consider to be ‘the writing on the wall’ when you look back at our history in this company. After we Massacre the field at Collision Course, and after we’re crowned the Project Honor tag team champions, ‘the writing on wall’ will have been there the entire time. The way we manhandled Bishop and BEZERK, the way we annihilated Hixx, Boyde, Artemis and Yelich.”
“You can’t say we didn’t warn you. You can’t say we didn’t tell you EXACTLY what was going to happen. We are going to rip and tear through every son of a bitch until we have those championships in our hands - including these four at the next Fallout.”
Lazarus finally turned away from the camera, moving to his daughter. He dropped to a single knee, wrapping an arm around her - and together the two looked up one more time at the giant Osaka Castle structure, which was when the camera abruptly cut to black.
“This is what we’re capable of. …
Violence.”
Lazarus Arjen and Charon Seede made short, bloody work of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK at Fallout X. ‘The Massacre’ as they have come to be known as, made that name reality. It truly was a massacre, and in doing so - they made a statement. They had their eyes on the Project Honor Tag Team division and put everyone in the division on notice in one short, violent affair.
The blood stained boots of Lazarus and Charon sat in a utility sink in an undisclosed location. The room was dark, dirty, grimey and the mixture of cold and hot - with a touch more hot than cold - water poured freely from the faucet. The water that fell off of the boot material had a tint of red to it. Lazarus stood over the sink, wiping away any last splatter of blood from the sole or the toes of the boots. There was a single light bulb that illuminated (as much of) the room (as possible), but the real light imminated from the room next door. That was until the shadowed figure of Charon Seede stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
“How is it coming?” Charon asked, his voice creeping through the darkness. The sudden introduction to a new sound, one that was different from the incessant, mundane sounds of running and splashing water, did little to affect Lazarus. He remained statuesque in posture and robotic in his movements. The butt of a cigarette hung between his lips loosely, the cherry at the end burning the tobacco within the paper shell. His eyes narrowed, his vision burned and temporarily blurred by the smoke.
“Perth’s drainage systems now temporarily contain a mixture of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK’s blood.” Lazarus said coldly, shifting his body to set one pair of boots on the ground at his feet. He repeated the process with the other pair before twisting the knobs of the faucet to turn the water off. Bringing his arm up, his fingers wrapped around the cigarette which he removed from between his lips after a deep inhale. Exhaling a cloud of smoke just a few short seconds later, he began to move toward the shadowed figure of Charon. “They should thank whatever god they pray to that their bodies aren’t food for maggots and worms right now. Apparently murder is frowned upon.”
“They weren’t worth the trouble. A mangled, broken face speaks volumes. Leave them to suffer. Leave them with the constant reminder that we are still out there - and that we can finish the job at any time.” Charon said. His voice was stern, cold, and unforgiven.
“We did what we set out to do.” Lazarus replied, standing face to face with Charon. “Open the eyes of Project Honor to the horrors of man. To make them see the violence in which we are capable. The two we victimized tonight will never be the same, and whatever - whoever - comes next? We do the same to them; only this time - the violence, the intensity and the bloodshed will be increased. Whatever - whoever - comes next will not be met with the same restraint that we showed to Bishop and BEZERK.”
Lazarus lifted his right foot, twisting his leg in order to put the cigarette out on the bottom of the military boot he wore. Lazarus’ attention was caught by the innocent laughter of his daughter in the next room, watching something on the television no doubt. It was that innocence that Lazarus wanted to protect, wanted to prolong. In his own twisted, depraved mind, his innocence was taken when he was Maisie’s age - so he would purify the world (through this industry) of violence with his own brand of violence, to ensure Maisie would have a good life unlike the one he lived.
“The only way innocence remains pure is by slaughtering the field to provide that future for someone like Maisie. Together, you and I are more than capable of doing that. Of doing the same thing that I have done, and am doing in Europe. The purification process will be bloody, will be violent and Project Honor will despise us because at the end of the day; we are the cancer that will systematically tear through this company until everything associated with it is left for dead.” Lazarus said bluntly to his partner, who had his head lowered - listening closely. Charon nodded in agreement, which caused Lazarus to place his hand on Charon’s shoulder - giving it a gentle pat before walking past him and back into the room where his daughter was.
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“When we looked into the eyes of Jordan Bishop and BEZERK, do you know what we saw? Fear. When they stood across the ring from us at Fallout Ten, do you know what they saw? The End. And this is what we are capable of; ending anyone and everyone that we encounter - with no mercy, with no hesitation.”
Lazarus was no stranger to Japan. There were forces in the Japanese-based Strong Style Wrestling organization that drew Lazarus’ presence to Osaka on more than one occasion. Many would speculate that it was Noah Reigner, and while it was true - Reigner’s influence pulled him from the dregs of the Netherlands deathmatch scene (which was almost nonexistent), it wasn’t Noah that kept him in Japan. There was something else, something more sinister and from the shadows Lazarus watched the art of violence being taught to him by the grand master of such. Like a student to DiVinci or Picasao.
So, the view of Osaka-jo Hall wasn’t a new sight for Lazarus. While many would be jumping at the chance to cut a promo in front of the legendary arena - or making a B-line to Ribera Steakhouse in Tokyo which is known to be a Combat-themed restaurant (including professional wrestling) in order to proudly wear one of those satin jackets; Lazarus was not. Instead, Lazarus and Maisie walk along the paved area surrounding the iconic Osaka Castle. Lazarus was never into this type of thing, sightseeing and touristy-shit - but this was for Maisie to have some memory of, even if there was a chance that it would slip from her memory as she progressed in age, it was still a bonding moment for them. With Maisie a few feet ahead, walking along a (barely) elevated border that surrounds the grass - asif it were a tightrope or something, Lazarus watched her - his hands stuffed into the pockets of the hooded sweater he wore. The hood up over his head, his hair hanging loosely framing his face. Feeling the camera’s presence with him, he spoke.
“But two weeks ago, we did something uncharacteristic of us. See; there is one thing that Charon and I don’t have -- mercy. I showed no mercy to Tyler Wolfe in Europe when I stabbed her repeatedly in the head with a bundle of syringes. I showed no mercy to Savannah Sunshine here in Japan when I also drove the needles into her scalp before giving her the Assault Driver off of the top rope onto the apron of the ring. Charon and I simply do not care for the well-being or the lives of any person we step into the ring against. We’re the type of people that would happily slit your throat and watch you bleed out, just because we can.”
“So two weeks ago when we met Jordan Bishop and BEZERK in the ring at Dead by Daylight, we did something uncharacteristic - we showed restraint. We showed mercy to them. Sure, we left them mangled and broken. Sure, it’s highly unlikely they will ever compete in a Project Honor ring - but the goal was to leave not shells of former athletes; the goal was to leave rotting, decaying corpses on display. The goal was to put them in a bag and leave them outside the door of Christian DeMarco - a little indication of our intentions for Collision Course.”
“Don’t think - for one second - that we’re going to be that generous again.”
Lazarus’ eyes glanced from the camera to his daughter, then back again. He never let her out of his sight, just like the Project Honor tag team championships that he and Charon had their eyes on.
“At Fallout we’ve been given another tag team bout. Another statement to be made in the tag team division, although I’m not sure if you can classify our opponents as real teams. Two different teams thrown together, consisting of four random members of the roster that DeMarco could find. Two teams not in this Collision Course tournament - simply because they’re not teams. They are loose ends. The runts of the roster with no direction, with no purpose. The unwanted four of the Fallout roster; we will put an end to the misery of their miserable lives. We will, once more, live up to our name of the Massacre - and this time we will not have restraint. This time we will finish what we start, this time we will leave bodies at our feet and their blood dripping from our fingertips.”
“This is in no way a statement for the sake of being “edgey”. This isn’t an act that we’ve put on to gain attention, or for shock and awe reactions. Myself and Charon, we come from ruins. Myself and Charon, we were born from violence - this is all that we know. My earliest memory is one of cruelty, of bloodshed and it was that memory that haunted me my entire life. It was that memory that created the darkness inside of me, the darkness that fuels my taste for carnage. The violence that Charon and I are capable of - the violence that we will bring to Project Honor is by design. This is who we are; we are merciless - ruthless - and bloodthirsty savages. Who we are not - is someone delusional enough to believe he is part of the Monarchy. A faux-Ruler with no ‘kingdom’ to speak of. Who we are not - is someone so obsessed with their quote-unquote ‘ability’ that we have to build an entire story of accomplishments that may, or may not be legitimate. Who we are not - is some low life drunk who haphazardly throws his fist around, no matter the circumstance and consequence. Who we are not - is someone setting our gender back two decades or more with simple minded beliefs and ideals.”
“What we are beyond merciless - beyond ruthless - and beyond bloodthirsty, is the fucking guillotine that will sever the heads of these useless runts that have been left in the ‘Free Puppy’ box that Christian DeMarco uses to book Fallout events.”
He paused for a brief moment, allowing his words to sink into everyone’s heads. He knew his opponents would be the first to click this video package - to listen to it and dissect his words. And with a cold, hard stare into the camera, he addressed them.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Artemis … except, not yours. You have no crown to speak of. You can’t brag, or boast about past accomplishments nor can you even say you’ve had your hand held high in victory here. So educate us; exactly what are you the Ruler of? I said before what myself and Charon are, I said before from where we came - and how we were created. What about you, though? One too many episodes of a fantasy television show that depicts kings and queens in a positive light, and you got the bright idea for a ‘gimmick’ to make you stand apart from everyone else? News flash, Artemis. I can throw a rock and hit a so-called ‘King’ or ‘Queen’, ‘Prince’ or ‘Princess’ - any sovereign title you can think of, it’s been done. You are no different than any one of those people, fresh out of a Dojo or gym in the middle of nowhere which is why you were easy work for Pyro at Fallout Ten. A man with a legitimate opportunity to springboard yourself into the upper echelon of Project Honor, and you let it slip through your grasp without much of a fight. But that was then, Artemis, against an opponent who just wanted to survive. Now you’re tasked with standing across the ring from two men who don’t care about survival, who don’t care about victories. The only thing we care about is violence. The only thing we care about is hurting people which is unfortunate for you. Unfortunate because, unlike Fallout Ten, you will not be walking out of this match to continue this fantasy you find yourself living in. Unlike Fallout Ten, there is no escape. Charon and I are going to bury you. We’re going to behead the supposed ‘Ruler’, and we’re going to leave your worthless, headless corpse in an unmarked grave. No respect, no remorse. This is your end, Artemis.”
“But not just him, the same goes for you - Yelich. Osaka, Japan will be the final resting place for your so-called ‘storied’ career. A man, a former champion with no historical evidence to back it up. ‘The Undefeated’ who has yet to win a single Project Honor match; interesting. I’m going to be up front with you, Yelich - even if this championship win of yours in the past, even if the forced vacancy after your undefeated streak is true? I don’t give a shit. You could be a former top tier champion, and I would still stab my needles into your fuckin’ scalp - ask Tyler Wolfe in Kingdom Pro. A world champion there, a champion in a global organization - and I stabbed her up like she was a junkie on the corner. Ask Savannah Sunshine, she’s felt the same thing. I have zero regard for anyone - if you step into the ring with me, with Charon - you’re risking not only your career but your fuckin’ life. Did you think I was going to hold your hand, promise you a close and competitive fight? Did you think I was going to give you a sportsman-like hand shake at the beginning of this thing? If so, your ignorance is showing. Let me make it crystal clear for you; what Charon and I did to Bishop and BEZERK was us toying with them. Stomping Bishop’s head repeatedly into the steel chair until he lost consciousness? That was child’s play. What we will do to you, will make an execution style murder look PG and we will have no problem doing it. Myself and Charon have our eyes firmly set on the Project Honor tag team championships, on Collision Course in just over a month. We plan on wiping every team that signed up for the tournament out of existence - but until then, we’re going to show the world just how fucking dangerous we can be. Until Collision Course, we’re going to take the scraps that Project Honor doesn’t want - like yourself - and violently put an end to them. After we’re finished with you, the story told one day about the career of ‘Yelich’ won’t be one of success and prosperity - but one of tragedy.”
Lazarus’ words were cold, laced with hate and dripping with venom. He cared nothing for the four people that he would step into the ring with at Fallout, he cared nothing for almost everyone in this industry. There were few exceptions, but Yelich - Artemis - Earl and Layota were not among them.
His stare turned away from the camera. Maisie had stopped her forward movements and looked up at the Castle. The sun was sitting high in the sky, but from her standpoint, it was hidden by the structure above her. Lazarus looked up at it as well, then back to her - who has now turned her attention away, childishly jumping off of the elevated platform she stood on. Lazarus watched with a hint of a smile touching his lips. Not only smiling at her youth and innocence, but the subtle detail that she didn’t look down before she jumped. Her landing was perfect, but the same subtle details don’t work for everyone ...
“A leap of faith. Something you do, even though you’re not sure if it’s right or you will succeed. This sums up Earl Boyd. A man who takes a leap of faith every night he spends, drinking his weight in alcohol and fighting whatever other patron decides to give it a go. And to his credit, he’s been successful. He’s made a name for himself, I bet, in whatever shithole, backwoods town he’s from. Am I going to credit him for ‘talent’? No. I credit luck - and the thing about luck is … it runs out. Consider your lucky streak over Earl Boyde. You may be the man in whatever bars and establishments in your town - but come to where I call home. Come to where Charon comes home, and you wouldn’t last a second. The moment you step into a bar with that tough guy swagger, is the moment you’re made a target. Come to where I’m from, and you’ll be eaten up and spit out before you can ask for your first beer. You’re a lot like myself and Charon in a way. You don’t shy away from trouble - in fact, like us, you welcome it with open arms. But unlike us, you’re a man with a lucky streak. A man who has some power in his fists, but is ultimately just talk when you’re stacked against men like myself and Charon. Or against women like Elena DeDraca, who I can watch from the shadows with a smile on my face - because that killer that we see now, I take credit for unleashing. At Fallout Ten, she made quick work of you - what will happen at this upcoming Fallout is we finish what she started. We finish the job and put your worthless corpse in the ground once and for all. And there will lay the wanna’be tough guy. The man who embodies the ideal that a big fish in a small pond will succumb to the horrors and violence of the deep oceans.”
“And while we speak of the depths of the ocean that is Project Honor, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our own version of Dory - Latoya Hixx. I’m honestly surprised Elena didn’t drag you to the depths of hell at Fallout Ten, considering your intentions to return women's professional wrestling to the dark ages. A ‘diva’? There is no room here for those, there is no business in the ring for ‘divas’. This isn’t a catwalk and you’re not surrounded by fucking models. This is professional wrestling and you’re surrounded by fucking killers. You pride yourself in being a role model; strong, sexy, beautiful and all of those other adjectives that you throw around - almost as haphazardly as Boyde throws his fists, but you are none of the above. What you are is a walking, talking embarrassment to this industry. A woman who prides herself on being a - what - hoeski? Yeah, you’re a fucking role model. I don’t know what your point or purpose in this company, or in this world is - nor do I care. If you're thick enough to believe that you belong in the ring with people like me and Charon? Then you deserve exactly what is coming to you. You deserve all of the pain, all of the torment and all of the violence coming your way - and then whatever purpose you have in this company and in this world will be removed. You will be left as a lifeless corpse on the autopsy table, waiting for someone to come and claim you. Charon and I won’t spare you, we won’t allow you to continue to breathe because you are a joke. A detriment to the progression of this industry. And it’s best to remove you from the equation before my daughter could even entertain the thought of finding someone as classless and pathetic as you to be a ‘role model’. You are an over-hyped and glorified whore; I will play the role of Jack the Ripper.”
His lips curled into a sinister little grin. His hands moved up, pushing the hood off of his head and he stopped his movements. Maisie skipped around in the background, picking up a small pebble and using all of her might to throw it.
“Don’t think - for one second - that any of you are walking out of Fallout on your own, if at all. Don't think - for one second - that any of you are going to embarrass Charon and I, because in just one second we will take away your entire fucking life.”
“Everything we do - from Fallout Ten onward - is a lead up to Collision Course. Everything we do - from Fallout Ten and onward - is what you will later consider to be ‘the writing on the wall’ when you look back at our history in this company. After we Massacre the field at Collision Course, and after we’re crowned the Project Honor tag team champions, ‘the writing on wall’ will have been there the entire time. The way we manhandled Bishop and BEZERK, the way we annihilated Hixx, Boyde, Artemis and Yelich.”
“You can’t say we didn’t warn you. You can’t say we didn’t tell you EXACTLY what was going to happen. We are going to rip and tear through every son of a bitch until we have those championships in our hands - including these four at the next Fallout.”
Lazarus finally turned away from the camera, moving to his daughter. He dropped to a single knee, wrapping an arm around her - and together the two looked up one more time at the giant Osaka Castle structure, which was when the camera abruptly cut to black.