Post by Acheron "Headsman" Revok on May 24, 2021 14:42:59 GMT
A tight frame shows the upper half of one tall man and just the head of another. The tall man has long hair and noticeable, but old, scars on his arms and the middle of his torso. He sports a conspicuous gash – also old – on his neck. It appears that the shorter man is talking incessantly and the tall man is slowly losing patience.
The camera begins to pan out, slowly revealing the wider environment. It is a high-ceilinged room, populated with pristine male mannequins and replicas of famous statues. There are also paintings on the wall. Everything in the space is black, white, or silver. There are desks in the modern style in certain areas of the room, silver and replete with straight lines and sharp angles. The room appears to be very clean and organized. The only light is natural, the fire of dawn engulfing the room through large rectangular windows facing the east.
Short Man (Dierdre): …time of my life. She is a blessing. I haven’t felt this alive since the first time I Nair’ed my shaft…
Tall Man (Acheron “Headsman” Revok), in a soft, stilted, and awkward voice that belies his size: As usual, you amuse me, you beautiful bastard. But please bring me what I asked you to bring me. And give me a few minutes; I need to introduce myself to IIW. Go play with your tits.
Dierdre looks down at his saggy male breasts, confused. He looks around nervously, then off to the right, where the camera pans to a birdcage with an assemblage of exhausted-looking Great Tits. The camera pans back to Dierdre, paralyzed with confusion. He slinks away.
Revok: Thank you, Dierdre. Dierdre is a sweet boy, who I found living in my former chiropractor’s crawl space years ago. He still lives there, but we are friends.
So. It would be dull and boorish of me to waste your time by telling you what an adept and proficient wrestler I am. I would rather show that to you. Make you suffer it. Instead, I’d like to take these few moments to explain to you what I’m about, as it informs everything I do. In the ring and out. And I promise you that we will see each other in both settings.
By now, you’ve no doubt detected my strained and goofy voice. It makes me laugh, too. As such, don’t bother to weaponize it against me. I have a sense of humor and find beauty in many things
Revok gestures around at the statue replicas and works of art on the wall.
I might have even loved at some point. But life? Life is not my trip. My trip is straight death. Sooner rather than later, some of you will stand beside me on this trip. Others will be forced into it.
I am not thunder. I am not lightning. My violence certainly is, but I am not. I destroy slowly, like water. Though my man suit is large, I operate in the dusk, largely undetected. One night, you’ll go to sleep in your bed, but when you wake up, you’ll be underground. Slowly using whatever oxygen is left, your countdown to your end frantic as anxiety and panic consume you, as you regret not having taken me seriously enough. But I will be writhing in the soil with you to show you that once you’ve given up, everything is so much easier.
The state of my voice is a result of a grievous harm done to me (Revok gestures at the gash on his throat) by the most vile and unholy creature I have ever encountered. My rage against him is genuine and manifest because he exercised control over me. And when you are my opponent, you become him, only the roles are reversed.
The physical result of his attack was unfortunate, but not the real “injury” that I suffered. The real injury, which informs my entire being, was the realization that none of us are ever safe. There is no one looking out for you. Not a one. But in the end, the injury freed me.
Dierdre shuffles into the room with an urn with a warm patina and brings it to Revok, who sits down at one of the desks. Dierdre lays on the ground.
Revok: Ah, yes. Time to eat. Thank you, Dierdre.
Revok places the urn on the desk, opens it up, peers inside, and smiles. After a brief pause, he pulls out a fruit salad, a tin of Vienna sausages, and Taki dust. He begins to eat the fruit salad, and then stops.
Revok: So why have I come to IIW? Well, it was obviously a step up from where I’ve been over the last several years or so. But it’s also because I see a group of people here who need to learn the lessons that I’ve learned. I am here to create chaos and make each and every one of you understand why the world is shit. I am here to inflict pain. Physical. Psychological. And it will happen. In time.
Victory is indeed a goal. But hardly the primary one. Of course I aspire to claim a belt at some point. But I will define my legacy by the havoc and destruction I leave behind me. The change I catalyze in people.
Revok drinks the broth from the Vienna sausages, sprinkles the Taki dust on them, and begins eating the delicacy.
Revok: Dierdre, please get the doctor on the phone.
The camera fades to black.
The camera begins to pan out, slowly revealing the wider environment. It is a high-ceilinged room, populated with pristine male mannequins and replicas of famous statues. There are also paintings on the wall. Everything in the space is black, white, or silver. There are desks in the modern style in certain areas of the room, silver and replete with straight lines and sharp angles. The room appears to be very clean and organized. The only light is natural, the fire of dawn engulfing the room through large rectangular windows facing the east.
Short Man (Dierdre): …time of my life. She is a blessing. I haven’t felt this alive since the first time I Nair’ed my shaft…
Tall Man (Acheron “Headsman” Revok), in a soft, stilted, and awkward voice that belies his size: As usual, you amuse me, you beautiful bastard. But please bring me what I asked you to bring me. And give me a few minutes; I need to introduce myself to IIW. Go play with your tits.
Dierdre looks down at his saggy male breasts, confused. He looks around nervously, then off to the right, where the camera pans to a birdcage with an assemblage of exhausted-looking Great Tits. The camera pans back to Dierdre, paralyzed with confusion. He slinks away.
Revok: Thank you, Dierdre. Dierdre is a sweet boy, who I found living in my former chiropractor’s crawl space years ago. He still lives there, but we are friends.
So. It would be dull and boorish of me to waste your time by telling you what an adept and proficient wrestler I am. I would rather show that to you. Make you suffer it. Instead, I’d like to take these few moments to explain to you what I’m about, as it informs everything I do. In the ring and out. And I promise you that we will see each other in both settings.
By now, you’ve no doubt detected my strained and goofy voice. It makes me laugh, too. As such, don’t bother to weaponize it against me. I have a sense of humor and find beauty in many things
Revok gestures around at the statue replicas and works of art on the wall.
I might have even loved at some point. But life? Life is not my trip. My trip is straight death. Sooner rather than later, some of you will stand beside me on this trip. Others will be forced into it.
I am not thunder. I am not lightning. My violence certainly is, but I am not. I destroy slowly, like water. Though my man suit is large, I operate in the dusk, largely undetected. One night, you’ll go to sleep in your bed, but when you wake up, you’ll be underground. Slowly using whatever oxygen is left, your countdown to your end frantic as anxiety and panic consume you, as you regret not having taken me seriously enough. But I will be writhing in the soil with you to show you that once you’ve given up, everything is so much easier.
The state of my voice is a result of a grievous harm done to me (Revok gestures at the gash on his throat) by the most vile and unholy creature I have ever encountered. My rage against him is genuine and manifest because he exercised control over me. And when you are my opponent, you become him, only the roles are reversed.
The physical result of his attack was unfortunate, but not the real “injury” that I suffered. The real injury, which informs my entire being, was the realization that none of us are ever safe. There is no one looking out for you. Not a one. But in the end, the injury freed me.
Dierdre shuffles into the room with an urn with a warm patina and brings it to Revok, who sits down at one of the desks. Dierdre lays on the ground.
Revok: Ah, yes. Time to eat. Thank you, Dierdre.
Revok places the urn on the desk, opens it up, peers inside, and smiles. After a brief pause, he pulls out a fruit salad, a tin of Vienna sausages, and Taki dust. He begins to eat the fruit salad, and then stops.
Revok: So why have I come to IIW? Well, it was obviously a step up from where I’ve been over the last several years or so. But it’s also because I see a group of people here who need to learn the lessons that I’ve learned. I am here to create chaos and make each and every one of you understand why the world is shit. I am here to inflict pain. Physical. Psychological. And it will happen. In time.
Victory is indeed a goal. But hardly the primary one. Of course I aspire to claim a belt at some point. But I will define my legacy by the havoc and destruction I leave behind me. The change I catalyze in people.
Revok drinks the broth from the Vienna sausages, sprinkles the Taki dust on them, and begins eating the delicacy.
Revok: Dierdre, please get the doctor on the phone.
The camera fades to black.