Post by dylanblack on Aug 5, 2023 14:31:36 GMT -6
-At first the audience is treated to a nice video package of the tag match Caffrey and Dreadvan just went through. Swann was easy enough fodder and the two together made a bit of a mockery of him. However it’s clearly evident it wasn’t without significant bumps in the road, particularly their ability to actually co-operate. Yet the results speak for themselves.
The scene shifts to the Demon just outside a particular coffee shop. Dread takes out a scrap of paper from his pocket and squints extra hard at the crumpled mess. Rain drops smearing the ink on the note. He tosses the message right in the road after grumbling to himself and proceeds to walk inside.
He stands in the doorway after hearing the hanging bell ding distinctly. His massive form is soaking wet, already forming a puddle at his feet as he takes the scene in. It’s clearly evident by the decor it’s heavily gothic themed. Most of the patrons matching it perfectly while some completely miss the essence all together, typical of today’s culture. Behind the counter is a lone woman, who was wiping down the ornate surface with a cloth just as stylized, but had stopped midway to take in the sight. She speaks up.-
“I’m guessing you’re the man known as Dreadvan?”
-He looks over to her and stares just as coldly as he was when he was perveying the room.-
“I’m no ordinary man.”
-This actually makes the barista crack a smile.-
“Oh I know, I was told you were a particular sort. I have something for you.”
-Dreadvan wobbles over, bumping into people sitting down, some even come cleanly off their seats. The wet trail behind him too even tripped up a person a second time as they stood. These types of places weren’t built for seven foot tall four hundred ponders to get around. No one dares speak up though, as if his aura already told them to just take it or there would be trouble. He leans down on the counter and the old wood almost screams out in agony.
The barista dries her hands and then turns around to begin rummaging around the register. She picks out another slip of paper and holds it out in offering. Dreadvan snatches it and begins to open it up from its very neat folding. It wasn’t super long but it was written in such a beautiful cursive which made it difficult for the big man to read. After all, he as he already has difficulty reading. He lays on that counter for what seems like an hour before the woman, perhaps concerned he would never leave, offers to read it for him. He grunts again but does hand her the slip back. She clears her throat and begins reading outloud.-
“Dreadvan, We told you to buy a cellphone or at least a watch. They have digital watches too so you would not have to read a normal clock. You were two hours late and figured you got distracted or forgot. It is fine though, we can meet up at---”
-The barista squints her own eyes, because this part of the message was smudged out pretty badly thanks to his previously mentioned drenchedness. She eventually makes it out and continues.-
“So make sure to be there on time! Our Regards, The Cure”
-Dreadvan scowls even harder feeling like he wasted all his time. His stomach proudly roars in protest, already hungry despite eating an hour ago. The barista and several others look at him in disbelief, most praying he would wander off. The demon though has almost no sense of social cues and hardly respects the norms.-
“Hey what have you got to eat around here?”
“Uh...well would you like to try locally sourced organic wafers?”
“I don’t know what any of that means just give me something to eat damn you!”
-The girl pulls out a two, nice and crisp specimens from a hand painted jar and lays them delicately on kerchief. Dreadvan looks at them, and then back at his supplier.-
“You think you’re funny? I’m a demon not a mouse! Give me the whole fuckin’ jar!”
-The woman begins trembling a bit and does as commanded. She tries to stretch her arms out far enough as to keep the most distance between the two and Dread once again simply snatches his prize from her clutches. Crumbs fly everywhere as he tilts his head back and basically drinks the contents straight from their container. He burps loudly when finished and simply throws the jar at a wall destroying it completely.-
“Well that was disgusting, thanks for nothing.”
-The now skittish host tries to speak up.-
“T-that’ll be--”
“I AIN’T PAYING TO EAT TRASH DUMMY. HOW ABOUT YOU GROW A BRAIN. YOU KNOW WHAT?”
-Dreadvan gets up and smashes a hand on the counter cracking it severely. He turns around, picks up a finely dressed man and tosses him clear across the room, his landing breaking one of the small tables another pair were at. Screaming intensifies as the demon continues his rampage, pulling paintings off the wall and slamming them over people’s heads. He even tosses a chair clear through the window. He calms slightly, only to start leaving and when he opens the door that bell chimes once more. Dreadvan reaches up and pulls it off the wall and tosses it on the counter.-
“Oh here’s your tip, that bell is annoying!”
-Dreadvan proceeds to walk out in the rain again. He calls over the cameraman, fully aware they were there the entire time.-
“How dare people still try to treat me like some common scrub? The nerve of some people, begging me for a handout for their shitty lives. I’ve said it over and over again I just take what I want, when I want. You know that match I just had right? What happened there? I made sure to get the pin because that’s what I felt like doing. I sent a message to Swann, the entire backstage area, and even the damn emperor. You really think I’m going to let some little hole in the wall shake me down for the privilege of me eating there? Get real.”
-Dreadvan starts hobbling down the road. His massive steps through the puddling water sending waves out as if each were an earthquake.-
“You know I walk so many of these roads, I say so many of the same things. Despite starting in a new location each time, each of them seems to head to the same place. But...even I can admit, some things just need to change.”
-Dreadvan kicks a loose bottle at his feet and ends up slipping himself. He gets on his knees as the rain continues to poor down. He holds his head low.-
“AXW is closing. That simple phrase means a lot more than it would seem. Despite those bastards never getting me my hotdogs on time they were at least the place I called home for over a year. That was my ring. Everyone who entered it with me knew. Even if I had to prove it to them right there.
When I heard the news I tried to shake it off. Surely there would be some last minute injection of money, maybe some new ownership. I mean, after all, it wasn’t the first time the people running the place couldn’t handle it. AXW still ended up just fine. So at first I laughed and I waited. Days went by. Weeks followed. Warehouses with equipment sold. Merchandise put on clearance. I waited, and waited, but this time was different. When it finally sunk into my thick skull, when I finally understood, it felt like I was still there in the hospital bed. Like divine circumstance was out to kill me.”
-Dreadvan rises to one knee.-
“I began wrestling with this in my head. After denouncing the very weakness that chained me to tests and parades of people in long white overcoats life found a way to kick me down once more. Sure I had a match for the XHF European Championship, but what after that? I didn’t have options.”
-Dreadvan now fully gets up, head still lowered.-
“But no amount of divinity can hold a demon back forever. The dark called out to me again. It wasn’t just about to let me recess and fade away. A doorway in a brightly lit restaurant gave way to a wave of evil intent. As the two approached me I could already feel it. A way through, a new chance, a fresh start.
These two offered me the opportunity to continue to be me, reign havoc and chaos as I always did, but this time under a banner. A banner that I didn’t give much thought to before, but when laid out in front of me made sense. They represented a lot of what I had been doing myself if I realized it or not. The world was sick and it needed-”
-Dreadvan now lifts his head revealing a sick smile.-
“The Cure!”
-Dreadvan begins cackling wildly. He laughs so hard he begins to wheeze and choke. He pounds a fist into his own chest to stop the ongoing coughing fit he put himself into before spitting out into the distance. He regains his composure.-
“No longer do I worry about the AXW or what I’m going to be doing now that they have decided it’s time to go. Instead I will be showing up everywhere flying the flag of the truth with other like minded people. I don’t need a “home,” because the entire world is now my playground. What started in the AXW ring will infect the rest of the network. It may take some time, but it’s going to happen no matter who gets in our way.
But don’t think I have overlooked the fact that I still have that championship match. Oh no. Why would I leave such a gracious opportunity to make a statement and reclaim what has always been mine in the first place? Especially now that I can take that trophy right back to my comrades in arms and use it to further prove what we’re really about.
That also means I haven’t forgotten the people in the match either. Scorpion, Stormcrow, and Brad Swann. Names by themselves that carry legacy to people who care. Names that would make lesser men think they had no hope of comparing to. I’ll get to the first two another time. But I wanna talk about Brad Swann, the current “champ.”
-Dreadvan begins walking again. The camera keeps up with a side profile.-
“So Brad. Have you enjoyed your time carrying around something you didn’t really earn? Have you had your fun parading around a title you won off the backs of two other people? Have you had fun hiding behind a fat loud mouth and his doofus kid? The same kid who ended up beating you?
Swann, you’re a damn joke. I have the absolute least respect for you. That’s also a reason I wanted to be the one to pin you in that tag match. I wanted to give you a small, small taste in the real size difference between us. The real skill gap between a real champion and the weasel you are. You know deep down inside the reason you went quiet is because you just can’t hang with the rest of the people who are going to be in that ring.
You’re sad, worthless and if I were you, I would just leave the championship at the doorstep with a note that says “I give up.” Otherwise it’s going to be exactly like that tag match, except it won’t just be two other guys but three beating the ever living hell out of you.
I don’t hate you though, I rarely even think about you. What I do hate is that you haven’t even been keeping my title warm with that small little body of yours. You’ve done nothing to elevate that belt, to get it to even further heights. In fact you’ve damaged it. It’s gone back to the level of just a low level prize. That’s why it’s only destiny that it comes back to me. I will, just by virtue of holding it, bring it back to the glory it had when around my shoulder.
So Swann, think all of this over. You can bring your little backup, but remember I have actual wrestlers ready to back me. I have the answers this time and you don’t have any more sneaky tricks left in the tool box.”
-The camera man stops and watches Dread continue to walk down through the rain. The big man turns his head back.-
“And of course when all is said and done, if you show up or not, I’ll know you’ve become cautious of demons.”
The scene shifts to the Demon just outside a particular coffee shop. Dread takes out a scrap of paper from his pocket and squints extra hard at the crumpled mess. Rain drops smearing the ink on the note. He tosses the message right in the road after grumbling to himself and proceeds to walk inside.
He stands in the doorway after hearing the hanging bell ding distinctly. His massive form is soaking wet, already forming a puddle at his feet as he takes the scene in. It’s clearly evident by the decor it’s heavily gothic themed. Most of the patrons matching it perfectly while some completely miss the essence all together, typical of today’s culture. Behind the counter is a lone woman, who was wiping down the ornate surface with a cloth just as stylized, but had stopped midway to take in the sight. She speaks up.-
“I’m guessing you’re the man known as Dreadvan?”
-He looks over to her and stares just as coldly as he was when he was perveying the room.-
“I’m no ordinary man.”
-This actually makes the barista crack a smile.-
“Oh I know, I was told you were a particular sort. I have something for you.”
-Dreadvan wobbles over, bumping into people sitting down, some even come cleanly off their seats. The wet trail behind him too even tripped up a person a second time as they stood. These types of places weren’t built for seven foot tall four hundred ponders to get around. No one dares speak up though, as if his aura already told them to just take it or there would be trouble. He leans down on the counter and the old wood almost screams out in agony.
The barista dries her hands and then turns around to begin rummaging around the register. She picks out another slip of paper and holds it out in offering. Dreadvan snatches it and begins to open it up from its very neat folding. It wasn’t super long but it was written in such a beautiful cursive which made it difficult for the big man to read. After all, he as he already has difficulty reading. He lays on that counter for what seems like an hour before the woman, perhaps concerned he would never leave, offers to read it for him. He grunts again but does hand her the slip back. She clears her throat and begins reading outloud.-
“Dreadvan, We told you to buy a cellphone or at least a watch. They have digital watches too so you would not have to read a normal clock. You were two hours late and figured you got distracted or forgot. It is fine though, we can meet up at---”
-The barista squints her own eyes, because this part of the message was smudged out pretty badly thanks to his previously mentioned drenchedness. She eventually makes it out and continues.-
“So make sure to be there on time! Our Regards, The Cure”
-Dreadvan scowls even harder feeling like he wasted all his time. His stomach proudly roars in protest, already hungry despite eating an hour ago. The barista and several others look at him in disbelief, most praying he would wander off. The demon though has almost no sense of social cues and hardly respects the norms.-
“Hey what have you got to eat around here?”
“Uh...well would you like to try locally sourced organic wafers?”
“I don’t know what any of that means just give me something to eat damn you!”
-The girl pulls out a two, nice and crisp specimens from a hand painted jar and lays them delicately on kerchief. Dreadvan looks at them, and then back at his supplier.-
“You think you’re funny? I’m a demon not a mouse! Give me the whole fuckin’ jar!”
-The woman begins trembling a bit and does as commanded. She tries to stretch her arms out far enough as to keep the most distance between the two and Dread once again simply snatches his prize from her clutches. Crumbs fly everywhere as he tilts his head back and basically drinks the contents straight from their container. He burps loudly when finished and simply throws the jar at a wall destroying it completely.-
“Well that was disgusting, thanks for nothing.”
-The now skittish host tries to speak up.-
“T-that’ll be--”
“I AIN’T PAYING TO EAT TRASH DUMMY. HOW ABOUT YOU GROW A BRAIN. YOU KNOW WHAT?”
-Dreadvan gets up and smashes a hand on the counter cracking it severely. He turns around, picks up a finely dressed man and tosses him clear across the room, his landing breaking one of the small tables another pair were at. Screaming intensifies as the demon continues his rampage, pulling paintings off the wall and slamming them over people’s heads. He even tosses a chair clear through the window. He calms slightly, only to start leaving and when he opens the door that bell chimes once more. Dreadvan reaches up and pulls it off the wall and tosses it on the counter.-
“Oh here’s your tip, that bell is annoying!”
-Dreadvan proceeds to walk out in the rain again. He calls over the cameraman, fully aware they were there the entire time.-
“How dare people still try to treat me like some common scrub? The nerve of some people, begging me for a handout for their shitty lives. I’ve said it over and over again I just take what I want, when I want. You know that match I just had right? What happened there? I made sure to get the pin because that’s what I felt like doing. I sent a message to Swann, the entire backstage area, and even the damn emperor. You really think I’m going to let some little hole in the wall shake me down for the privilege of me eating there? Get real.”
-Dreadvan starts hobbling down the road. His massive steps through the puddling water sending waves out as if each were an earthquake.-
“You know I walk so many of these roads, I say so many of the same things. Despite starting in a new location each time, each of them seems to head to the same place. But...even I can admit, some things just need to change.”
-Dreadvan kicks a loose bottle at his feet and ends up slipping himself. He gets on his knees as the rain continues to poor down. He holds his head low.-
“AXW is closing. That simple phrase means a lot more than it would seem. Despite those bastards never getting me my hotdogs on time they were at least the place I called home for over a year. That was my ring. Everyone who entered it with me knew. Even if I had to prove it to them right there.
When I heard the news I tried to shake it off. Surely there would be some last minute injection of money, maybe some new ownership. I mean, after all, it wasn’t the first time the people running the place couldn’t handle it. AXW still ended up just fine. So at first I laughed and I waited. Days went by. Weeks followed. Warehouses with equipment sold. Merchandise put on clearance. I waited, and waited, but this time was different. When it finally sunk into my thick skull, when I finally understood, it felt like I was still there in the hospital bed. Like divine circumstance was out to kill me.”
-Dreadvan rises to one knee.-
“I began wrestling with this in my head. After denouncing the very weakness that chained me to tests and parades of people in long white overcoats life found a way to kick me down once more. Sure I had a match for the XHF European Championship, but what after that? I didn’t have options.”
-Dreadvan now fully gets up, head still lowered.-
“But no amount of divinity can hold a demon back forever. The dark called out to me again. It wasn’t just about to let me recess and fade away. A doorway in a brightly lit restaurant gave way to a wave of evil intent. As the two approached me I could already feel it. A way through, a new chance, a fresh start.
These two offered me the opportunity to continue to be me, reign havoc and chaos as I always did, but this time under a banner. A banner that I didn’t give much thought to before, but when laid out in front of me made sense. They represented a lot of what I had been doing myself if I realized it or not. The world was sick and it needed-”
-Dreadvan now lifts his head revealing a sick smile.-
“The Cure!”
-Dreadvan begins cackling wildly. He laughs so hard he begins to wheeze and choke. He pounds a fist into his own chest to stop the ongoing coughing fit he put himself into before spitting out into the distance. He regains his composure.-
“No longer do I worry about the AXW or what I’m going to be doing now that they have decided it’s time to go. Instead I will be showing up everywhere flying the flag of the truth with other like minded people. I don’t need a “home,” because the entire world is now my playground. What started in the AXW ring will infect the rest of the network. It may take some time, but it’s going to happen no matter who gets in our way.
But don’t think I have overlooked the fact that I still have that championship match. Oh no. Why would I leave such a gracious opportunity to make a statement and reclaim what has always been mine in the first place? Especially now that I can take that trophy right back to my comrades in arms and use it to further prove what we’re really about.
That also means I haven’t forgotten the people in the match either. Scorpion, Stormcrow, and Brad Swann. Names by themselves that carry legacy to people who care. Names that would make lesser men think they had no hope of comparing to. I’ll get to the first two another time. But I wanna talk about Brad Swann, the current “champ.”
-Dreadvan begins walking again. The camera keeps up with a side profile.-
“So Brad. Have you enjoyed your time carrying around something you didn’t really earn? Have you had your fun parading around a title you won off the backs of two other people? Have you had fun hiding behind a fat loud mouth and his doofus kid? The same kid who ended up beating you?
Swann, you’re a damn joke. I have the absolute least respect for you. That’s also a reason I wanted to be the one to pin you in that tag match. I wanted to give you a small, small taste in the real size difference between us. The real skill gap between a real champion and the weasel you are. You know deep down inside the reason you went quiet is because you just can’t hang with the rest of the people who are going to be in that ring.
You’re sad, worthless and if I were you, I would just leave the championship at the doorstep with a note that says “I give up.” Otherwise it’s going to be exactly like that tag match, except it won’t just be two other guys but three beating the ever living hell out of you.
I don’t hate you though, I rarely even think about you. What I do hate is that you haven’t even been keeping my title warm with that small little body of yours. You’ve done nothing to elevate that belt, to get it to even further heights. In fact you’ve damaged it. It’s gone back to the level of just a low level prize. That’s why it’s only destiny that it comes back to me. I will, just by virtue of holding it, bring it back to the glory it had when around my shoulder.
So Swann, think all of this over. You can bring your little backup, but remember I have actual wrestlers ready to back me. I have the answers this time and you don’t have any more sneaky tricks left in the tool box.”
-The camera man stops and watches Dread continue to walk down through the rain. The big man turns his head back.-
“And of course when all is said and done, if you show up or not, I’ll know you’ve become cautious of demons.”