Post by jasonryan on Feb 20, 2022 23:17:03 GMT -5
It's a blisteringly cold night, the clouds covering the moon. Two people with thick cloaks and hoods slowly walk towards a graveyard guided by the light of a lantern, their breath visible as they sing a low melody.
The King and his men
stole the Queen from her bed
and bound her in her bones
the seas be ours and by the powers
where we will we'll roam
Yo ho, all hands
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Now some have died
and some are alive
and others sail on sea
with the keys to the cage
and the Devil to pay
we lay to Fiddler's Green.
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
The bell has been raised
from it's water grave
Hear it's sepulchral tone?
A call to all
pay heed the squall
and turn yourself toward home
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
They stop once they reach Jason Ryan sitting on a tombstone, The man holds up a hand to silence them. The two figures put the lantern at his feet, bow at the waist then vanish into the darkness. For a while Jason says nothing, allowing the wind to howl through the air. Finally he begins to softly speak.
Over and over. Over and over and over. Over and over and over and over again. There is no beginning no middle no end.
He looks at the camera, looking in need of sleep and a hot meal.
All of Revolution 1, come. I'll show you the end. You're damned cause no one can defy me. Just watch my opponent, that maddened creature desperately reaches out to save a holy grail never met to be held by the likes of you. You sit as a pretender, usurper to my throne. A throne you have no rights to. The throne to the Father of Misfortune, He who brings Despair, The Conqueror, the Rider of the White Horse, The Scourge, Jason Ryan.
Jason's voice is harsh, full of scorn and mockery.
After months of being used as a plaything for the whims of management, I finally get what is mine by right. A chance to regain the crown that was stolen from me months ago, the International Championship. I am so very very close to righting the ultimate wrong committed against me. That title was stolen from me months ago, due to a certain someone's worthless sibling getting in my way. I have not slept well since that night, that image of losing due to an accursed bitch like that has haunted me almost as horribly as my other personalities do. Oh how cruel they were afterwards, mocking me for weeks on end. For months I have ridden into obsession. Some would even say I have gone mad.
Jason breaks into a fit of coarse laughter.
Me? Gone mad? Oh no no no. Nervous perhaps. Oh yes dreadfully nervous of ever getting another shot at my beloved prize. Nervous that I would forever be at the mercy of that hapless simpleton Kylie. Nervous I would forever be the object of scorn and mockery by those who cannot appreciate the position I am in. Oh yes Ms. Skye. I have been truly nervous lately. But why would anyone say I am mad? These past few months of torment sharpened my mind and skills, not destroyed them. So I must ask the question. How then am I mad?
Evert night Chelsea, we all lay our heads down to dream. Every night we remember horrible things that have happened to us in our lives. So we dream. We dream of fixing things. We dream of being superheroes, we dream of being the one everyone looks up to. And for a few moments, we are the version of ourselves we so desperately want to be. Then we wake up, we go to the mirror and the truth becomes undeniable. We are nothing. We deserve all the terrible things that happen to us. And you Chelsea, are the greatest pretender I have ever come across. You try so hard to believe in yourself, but let's be honest. There is nothing about you worth believing in. And you have the nerve to hold onto MY International championship? Your claims to that prize are as hollow as your head.
You know, I remember this one night, when I was just a boy, I went and I asked my aunt why she tormented me so, why she and the Church had given me to The High Ones so that they may use me as their vessel upon this world. And my aunt she looked at me and she said," Jason Ryan, I did it because you are rotten to the core. When I look into your eyes I see nothing but evil. You covet everything, you seek to bring the rulers of this world to their knees. You are the snake in the garden biting the heel of humanity."
Jason chuckles and examines the graves
Me and you have a date with destiny Chelsea. Me and you will engage on the field of battle for a throne we both covet. We are a couple of modern-day gladiators but do not be deceived child, we do not fight for the same things. You fight for the respect of your people. You fight for their acceptance, you fight for their adoration, you fight for their love, you fight for your family. Me, well I am rather different. I fight against what you fight for. As He Who Speaks For The High Ones, I am utterly disgusted by what you seek. You don't even realize how pointless your fight is Ms. Skye. For the people you fight for will soon be on their knees before my alter worshipping the true gods of this world, The High Ones. My words are laced with venom, they inject all who hear them with poison and there is no cure. The people who cheer for you now Chelsea won't always be there. Sooner or later, everyone you care so deeply for will all bow down to me! Close your eyes Chelsea, can't you hear their singing?
Jason closes his eyes as a group of people, their faces concealed by hoods begin to sing at a slow funeral pace.
Jason owns all the people.
All the people of the world.
red and yellow black and white.
All shall bow before his might.
Jason owns all the people of the world.
Jason holds up a hand to silence them then stands up.
But I am not without my weaknesses. I am a junkie. I am a junkie for that International championship. And I am a junkie who has been denied his fix, the one thing I live for, the only thing of consequence and this junkie has been denied by fools thinking that by keeping me away from my fix, they can help him, they can heal me. They hope by keeping the International championship away from me, they can cure me, that I will find the path of salvation and I will be saved. LOOK AT ME! I am beyond help Chelsea. Yes I am too far gone. I am a sick and depraved man. And there is no cure.
Jason gets on his knees and looks at the ground
I have riden into obsession. I am obsessed. I am obsessed with the International championship. It is a part of me and I am a part of it. Without me, that title means nothing. Without that title, life has no meaning. So Chelsea, when we meet at Allegiance, bring everything you have. Hit me with all you got. Bring tables, bring ladders, bring chairs, bring whatever you need to try and stop me. For you'll need all the help you can get. Because, at Allegiance, I'll be bringing my friend, The Scourge. You have heard the saying, Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. Well I say, a woman is but a wilting flower in the face of The Scourge's hunger.
Jason stands up, picks up the lantern, and smashes it against a headstone before stalking off. The camera fades to black but before it cuts the feed an image that has been shown on Revolution 1 for the last couple of weeks appears on screen. A deep gravely voice speaks, its source unidentifiable
Chelsea Skye, may you be a half-hour in heaven before the devil knows your dead. This is your Last Rites. Hallelujah and amen.
The King and his men
stole the Queen from her bed
and bound her in her bones
the seas be ours and by the powers
where we will we'll roam
Yo ho, all hands
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Now some have died
and some are alive
and others sail on sea
with the keys to the cage
and the Devil to pay
we lay to Fiddler's Green.
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
The bell has been raised
from it's water grave
Hear it's sepulchral tone?
A call to all
pay heed the squall
and turn yourself toward home
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
Yo ho, haul together
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
They stop once they reach Jason Ryan sitting on a tombstone, The man holds up a hand to silence them. The two figures put the lantern at his feet, bow at the waist then vanish into the darkness. For a while Jason says nothing, allowing the wind to howl through the air. Finally he begins to softly speak.
Over and over. Over and over and over. Over and over and over and over again. There is no beginning no middle no end.
He looks at the camera, looking in need of sleep and a hot meal.
All of Revolution 1, come. I'll show you the end. You're damned cause no one can defy me. Just watch my opponent, that maddened creature desperately reaches out to save a holy grail never met to be held by the likes of you. You sit as a pretender, usurper to my throne. A throne you have no rights to. The throne to the Father of Misfortune, He who brings Despair, The Conqueror, the Rider of the White Horse, The Scourge, Jason Ryan.
Jason's voice is harsh, full of scorn and mockery.
After months of being used as a plaything for the whims of management, I finally get what is mine by right. A chance to regain the crown that was stolen from me months ago, the International Championship. I am so very very close to righting the ultimate wrong committed against me. That title was stolen from me months ago, due to a certain someone's worthless sibling getting in my way. I have not slept well since that night, that image of losing due to an accursed bitch like that has haunted me almost as horribly as my other personalities do. Oh how cruel they were afterwards, mocking me for weeks on end. For months I have ridden into obsession. Some would even say I have gone mad.
Jason breaks into a fit of coarse laughter.
Me? Gone mad? Oh no no no. Nervous perhaps. Oh yes dreadfully nervous of ever getting another shot at my beloved prize. Nervous that I would forever be at the mercy of that hapless simpleton Kylie. Nervous I would forever be the object of scorn and mockery by those who cannot appreciate the position I am in. Oh yes Ms. Skye. I have been truly nervous lately. But why would anyone say I am mad? These past few months of torment sharpened my mind and skills, not destroyed them. So I must ask the question. How then am I mad?
Evert night Chelsea, we all lay our heads down to dream. Every night we remember horrible things that have happened to us in our lives. So we dream. We dream of fixing things. We dream of being superheroes, we dream of being the one everyone looks up to. And for a few moments, we are the version of ourselves we so desperately want to be. Then we wake up, we go to the mirror and the truth becomes undeniable. We are nothing. We deserve all the terrible things that happen to us. And you Chelsea, are the greatest pretender I have ever come across. You try so hard to believe in yourself, but let's be honest. There is nothing about you worth believing in. And you have the nerve to hold onto MY International championship? Your claims to that prize are as hollow as your head.
You know, I remember this one night, when I was just a boy, I went and I asked my aunt why she tormented me so, why she and the Church had given me to The High Ones so that they may use me as their vessel upon this world. And my aunt she looked at me and she said," Jason Ryan, I did it because you are rotten to the core. When I look into your eyes I see nothing but evil. You covet everything, you seek to bring the rulers of this world to their knees. You are the snake in the garden biting the heel of humanity."
Jason chuckles and examines the graves
Me and you have a date with destiny Chelsea. Me and you will engage on the field of battle for a throne we both covet. We are a couple of modern-day gladiators but do not be deceived child, we do not fight for the same things. You fight for the respect of your people. You fight for their acceptance, you fight for their adoration, you fight for their love, you fight for your family. Me, well I am rather different. I fight against what you fight for. As He Who Speaks For The High Ones, I am utterly disgusted by what you seek. You don't even realize how pointless your fight is Ms. Skye. For the people you fight for will soon be on their knees before my alter worshipping the true gods of this world, The High Ones. My words are laced with venom, they inject all who hear them with poison and there is no cure. The people who cheer for you now Chelsea won't always be there. Sooner or later, everyone you care so deeply for will all bow down to me! Close your eyes Chelsea, can't you hear their singing?
Jason closes his eyes as a group of people, their faces concealed by hoods begin to sing at a slow funeral pace.
Jason owns all the people.
All the people of the world.
red and yellow black and white.
All shall bow before his might.
Jason owns all the people of the world.
Jason holds up a hand to silence them then stands up.
But I am not without my weaknesses. I am a junkie. I am a junkie for that International championship. And I am a junkie who has been denied his fix, the one thing I live for, the only thing of consequence and this junkie has been denied by fools thinking that by keeping me away from my fix, they can help him, they can heal me. They hope by keeping the International championship away from me, they can cure me, that I will find the path of salvation and I will be saved. LOOK AT ME! I am beyond help Chelsea. Yes I am too far gone. I am a sick and depraved man. And there is no cure.
Jason gets on his knees and looks at the ground
I have riden into obsession. I am obsessed. I am obsessed with the International championship. It is a part of me and I am a part of it. Without me, that title means nothing. Without that title, life has no meaning. So Chelsea, when we meet at Allegiance, bring everything you have. Hit me with all you got. Bring tables, bring ladders, bring chairs, bring whatever you need to try and stop me. For you'll need all the help you can get. Because, at Allegiance, I'll be bringing my friend, The Scourge. You have heard the saying, Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. Well I say, a woman is but a wilting flower in the face of The Scourge's hunger.
Jason stands up, picks up the lantern, and smashes it against a headstone before stalking off. The camera fades to black but before it cuts the feed an image that has been shown on Revolution 1 for the last couple of weeks appears on screen. A deep gravely voice speaks, its source unidentifiable
Chelsea Skye, may you be a half-hour in heaven before the devil knows your dead. This is your Last Rites. Hallelujah and amen.
