Post by Khaos on Dec 26, 2021 16:58:27 GMT -5
The howling winter winds swirl around the barren field, the leafless trees swaying under its breath as they groan in response to the harsh elements. The scene is a graveyard, desolate, remote, the ruins of a fallen era centuries ago. Damien Carter moved effortlessly through the darkness as he surveyed the scene before him. There is but one section – one corner – of bricks that remain of the Biggin Church, the once hallowed halls baptized in fire on more than one occasion. Damien felt the echoes of the past with each step he took, could feel the skeletal fingers of the dead reaching out for him to “save them”. They were too far gone – beyond saving – but how do you explain that to a corpse?
Holy ground such as this seemed to always twist him into knots, the mystical nature of his existence clashing with the divine of something “bigger” than himself. In a place meant to reaffirm and calm oneself, Damien was skittish, jittery. At any moment, he half-expected something to lash out from the dark and devour him whole. He flexed his fingers tentatively, felt the power flowing through his veins, the daggers under his skin itching to come out and be free once more. At a moment’s notice, he could call forth the obsidian blades and dual whatever creature dare assault him this night. Whether he lived or died made no difference, he didn’t plan on going out without a fight.
As he knelt amongst the ashen ground, feeling the dirt under his nails, he sensed the destruction of this place centuries ago. Many had died here, trapped inside, put to the torch while the soldiers of the British army stood by and listened to their agonizing screams. Unnecessary death like this, and on such a grand scale, always left a void behind – like a crater hidden beneath the Earth. For most, that tingle the crept down your spine as you ventured too close to the ruins forced your feet to hasten to safety. For the few that dared face it head on, they could draw strength from the unholy essence that lingered.
“So it’s come to this…” Damien solemnly declared, feeling the lens of the Revo1 camera crew on him. “The grand event… the final show of 2021… Christmas Chaos…”
Damien glowered in the direction of those that had been forced to cross the border in order to track him down for his “promo” prior to his World Title defense against Sara Pettis. Despite the event being a matter of days away, Carter had not remained in Canada along with the other talent – was not tirelessly training for the biggest match of his career. There were other factors at work here; bigger things beyond wrestling.
“Do you feel that?” Damien asked, speaking more-so to his opponent then the hired hands sent by upper management. “That unnatural chill in the air – like ice crystalizing under your skin, turning your veins blue. I’ve been told that it’s the ‘winds of change’ symbolizing a new beginning for Revo1 – one that sees yours truly no longer as World Champion.”
Damien’s lips twisted into a half-smile, as if the very notion itself was beyond even his wildest conceptions.
“Sara Pettis seems to think that she is fated to dethrone me from my place at the top of the mountain,” Damien glanced up, looking at the starry-skies above. “But what is fate, exactly? Is it a hand-out that rewards those for towing the line, doing as they’ve been told? Or is it a cruel mistress; twisting the knife, leaving you to bleed out in some alley?”
Damien narrowed his gaze, turning back to the camera, staring at it dead center, envisioning his opponents face on the other side.
“You consider yourself a ‘Child of Fate’ Sara,” Damien continued, his gaze darkening. “But it seems as though you and fate haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately and, believe it or not, I can actually sympathize. I mean… to have no control over your mortal existence? To simply be marching to the tune of another’s drum, is that any way to live your life? You are like a sheep, Sara; you hold so dearly onto this misguided and self-righteous path of ‘destiny’, you lean on it as if it were a crutch. But me...? I’m a fucking wolf; I fight to make my own way in this world. And that is why when I come face-to-face with you at Christmas Chaos, you will lose. But there-in lies the problem, not that you lose, but in what manner must I vanquish you…?”
Damien almost seems remorseful as he hangs his head low.
“See, you’ve proven to be a capable fighter,” Damien begrudgingly admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I still am not pleased that I have to face you at Christmas Chaos. In fact, I’m the first to admit that when you re-debuted at Remembrance; I saw something in you then that I haven’t seen since – passion, determination, drive. You came ‘this close’ to winning that Battle Royal, only for Maggie Lockheart to do what you couldn’t. And rather than use that second place finish – that disappointment – as fuel to push you, you became complacent. You waved your Runner-Up status around like it was something to be proud of. This isn’t the Winter Olympics Sara, there’s no silver medal waiting for you when you – inevitably – take second place once again.”
Damien begins to pace around in the empty courtyard of the church as the winds pick up once more. His long coat flows freely around him as he carefully dictates his steps, creating a type of circle amidst the snow-crusted ground.
“You see Sara, I’ve been trying to spare you from this encounter,” Damien declared, his eyes fixated on the ground, his focus on the design he was creating in the earth. “Because from the very beginning, I’ve had only one goal on my mind – and that is to cement my everlasting legacy here in Revo1. This December will mark the end of MY year-long-journey to claim dominion over this federation… but the only thing standing in my way is… you.”
Damien glances up, a small smirk present once more, as he steps into the circle and kneels down, his finger lightly tracing across the frost.
“You…” Damien repeated, shaking his head. “You… the #1 contender… who hasn’t been able to secure a clean victory in months. Sure, you’ll probably blame that on me and all of my ‘interfering’, but how many times must I explain it Sara… you simply aren’t worthy. You’re like this petulant child, defiant, refusing to listen to reason. And so… for lack of a better term… I am forced to interject myself and discipline you. I’d think that you, being a mother, would understand this concept. If you see your child chasing a ball into the street, you save them from themselves, do you not? I have been trying to do what your family should’ve done from the very beginning; shake some sense into you. I mean, think about it Sara… really think about it… are you really willing to risk it all just for the slim chance that somehow, someway, you defeat me at Christmas Chaos? Is the World Title really worth all of this?”
Damien pauses as he looks down at the word written in the snow. The camera dares move in as it reveals the name “Stephanie”.
“Think of your daughter,” Damien implored, looking up at the camera. “Hasn’t she suffered enough? I mean… think of the type of emotional torment that she had to endure when she witnessed her very own father buried alive. And now, you dare risk the leftover slivers of her sanity by putting yourself in my path…?”
Damien shook his head in disappointment as he stood up, brushing the ice from his knees. He took a few deep breaths in as mist flowed from his mouth.
“Everyone seems to think that I’ve changed,” Damien began to ponder, as if wondering it himself. “The crowds… the fans… they were all behind me when I was putting my very life on the line to defend Revo1 from the Left Hand invasion. Perhaps they cheered for me because they saw what I did as selfless – but it wasn’t. When a threat like that presents itself to me and my legacy, I deal with it… swiftly and without mercy. One-hundred and eighty-two days, that’s how long I carried that show on my back. Do you know what that got me, Sara? The #2 overall draft pick… second only to Jin Min-jun. For half a year, I was the cornerstone of that brand. I took on all comers, defended my title at every twist and turn, and my reward was to be cast aside, thrown overboard, left to wallow in the sea of Sin. But you see I’m not a fool Sara; I knew going in that these two shows weren’t alike. The environments, the atmosphere, it’s all different. So you either adapt or you die and believe me Sara… I don’t kill easily. So maybe I did change; maybe I did succumb to my very own ‘sinful’ nature… but believe me when I say that everything that I have done TO you has been FOR you, whether you or the fans believe me or not.”
Damien took the tip of his boot and brushed away the name of Sara’s daughter as he glared at the camera once more.
“You have a decision to make Sara, the biggest one in your life and your career,” Damien professed. “If you show up at Christmas Chaos, you will force my hand and you will make me do something that I do NOT want to do, and that is to orphan your sweet little Stephanie. I know you feel like this is, somehow, fate’s second chance but I implore you to use common sense. You ignored your instincts once before and it cost you your husband. Don’t make the same mistake again, Sara. If you show up at Christmas Chaos, then you do so knowingly putting your life on the line. Hell, the PPV is practically named after me, Sara – if that’s not fate’s way of kicking you right in your ass, than I don’t know what is. Not to mention, we’re facing each other in a Khristmas Khaos match. The funny thing is… I don’t even know what that is. But if it’s named after me, so I can only assume that it’ll be as unique and unpredictable as yours truly.”
A shadow moved behind Damien as he cast a glance over his shoulder, only to see his tag team partner, Cerise, lingering on the outskirts. As if challenging her inner-Santa-Claus, she had a big red sack slung over her shoulder, various artifacts and relics hidden within. She nodded and winked to Damien as she casually sucked on a candy cane.
“History has a strange way of repeating itself,” Damien announced, looking around at the shell of the church once more. “Take this place for instance; it suffered through three fires before finally succumbing to the ruin that you see before you. In hindsight, I feel like it makes you wonder why they even rebuilt in the first place. I’m sure they thought that they could recapture what they once had. That they could replace the brick and the mortar and that, somehow, they would be able to reclaim its former glory once again. But as fate decided, this place was never meant to be a church but, rather, a graveyard.”
Damien turned to Cerise as she dropped the bag down to the ground, the various trinkets clanking against each other. After making a “oopsie” face, Cerise began pillaging around until she found what she was looking for. Pulling forth a crystal orb, she carelessly tossed it over to Damien. Carter palmed the relic before shooting Cerise a look, as if silently scolding her by asking her “did you really just do that!?”. Cerise merely shrugged her shoulders in response and plopped down onto the ground, opting to make use of the wintery terrain and make a snow angel. Damien turned the orb over in his hand, a faint and eerily red glow emanating from its heart.
“Fate is not your friend, Sara,” Damien announced, casting a wayward glance back at the camera. “Fate is not your ally. It will not protect you from me. You have refused to heed my warnings and we are now at the precipice; the point of no return. I don’t want to have to bury you alive like your husband, or put you through a flaming table, or throw you from off the top of a ladder. In a different life and under different circumstances, I may’ve actually liked you Sara – maybe even called you ‘friend’. But you have carelessly walked onto the tracks and now stand before me and my glory. I’ve come this far and fought too hard to stop now. And in your eyes, I can see that same fire…”
At the mention of the word “fire”, the orb in is hand seem to burst to life as a bright glow erupted from it, the heat and radiance barely contained by its glass prism.
“The ‘Tetrahedron Sphere of Eshan’…” Damien revealed, the encompassing luminosity forcing him to hold the object further away from his face. “A mystical artifact first discovered by Samson St. Claire; described to be both a symbol and a weapon, if it fell into the wrong hands.”
Damien gently placed the sphere down in the circle as the crystal began to crack; flames snaking its way to the surface. As the object shattered, Carter quickly took a step back as a pillar of fire erupted towards the heavens, the flames somehow maintained within the circle of ice he had created moments earlier. For a moment, all could only stare in wonderment and awe at the sight as Damien then turned back to the camera.
“This is no optical illusion,” Damien practically shouted over the raging inferno. “This is what real power – real magic – looks like! For almost a year now, I’ve eluded to the mysticisms of my origin; the true ‘Khaotic’ nature of Damien Carter! You all assumed that it was a mere gimmick, derived by some backroom writer with too much time on their hands and too many fantasies of Dungeons and Dragons in their heads. The eternal darkness exists and the demons that plague this realm have – and always will be – held in check by me and those of my order. The ‘Reaper’ isn’t something that I pretend to be for entertainment purposes – it is simply who I am. You, like so many before you Sara, are simply tangling with something beyond your comprehension and as this little display has shown, when you play with fire… you get burned!”
Damien is able to recollect the cover of the sphere as he clasps the top down onto it, containing the fire within as smoke rises to the surface. Cerise claps giddily as the camera crew look around in stunned silence.
“You have tried to imitate me, Sara,” Damien snarled, glaring at the camera once more. “You try to fight fire-with-fire; interfering in my matches, believing that this will give you some sort of mental edge in our conflict. Your actions do nothing but infuriate me. You’ve merely escalated the situation and further proven my point that you know not what you do. You truly believe that it is your fate to dethrone me and take away my Championship – to be the one to deny me of my rightful legacy? I believe you to be heretic, one that I have no choice but to annihilate at Christmas Chaos. You will be caught up in my ‘Khaotic Fury’; the fire will shred the flesh from your skin, your bones will be reduced to ash, and you will be just another one of my victims – the ‘Pettiest’ of them all, for unlike the rest that have fallen before me, you are unworthy of this title… of this opportunity… of MY spotlight!”
Damien turned and tossed the orb over to Cerise, who did a quick “hot potato” impression before finally slipping it securely back into her bag of wonders.
“At Christmas Chaos,” Damien began, his fingers curling into fists. “I will stop at nothing to ensure that MY legacy remains intact. I will beat you, break you, and run right through you. If you don’t stay down Sara, then I will have no choice but to put you down. Your daughter Stephanie will grow up in this cruel world without a mother or a father – and that will be because of the decisions that YOU made. When it comes to this match and to MY World Championship, the only way you will ever take it from me is if you embrace the darkness within. If you want to be the Queen of Sin, then you better be prepared to kill the King. But you don’t have it in you, do you Sara? You don’t have that ‘killer instinct’. You proved it to me when you refused to take that steel chair and put Brandon Hendrix down when you had the chance. Your fate is sealed, Sara; you have already lost – all that’s left is the formality of it all.”
Damien walked over to Cerise, helping her to her feet. She patted him on the shoulder and began walking into the darkness as he cast one last look back at the camera.
“In this world,” Damien began, turning and following after Cerise; disappearing into the shadows as his final words were carried back to the camera crew by the winter winds. “There can never be order, only Khaos.”
