A harsh angry wind whipped, reddening exposed flesh, as the cold only enhanced the sting. Gray clouds hung in the sky with no silver lining just waiting to weep from the heavens. The mountain of muscle traced a path along rows of headstones which protruded from the ground like jagged and warped teeth. Sylo’s stride was slow and methodical, his eyes remained transfixed on nothing in particular, and as he moved he let the fingers on a lone hand gently brush against the tombstones, caressing them, almost as if he was lost in his own thoughts.
Finally Sylo stopped at two gravestones, the granite worn from various weather conditions and the hand of time itself, and his gaze locked on to them both. It was silent except for the whistling and whipping noise the wind made but as if he really was the God of Ice it seemed to just move around him as the sun dried leather jacket he wore pushed back with the wind. After a moment of lone and silent contemplation he would turn and address the camera that had been following him the entire time.
“Monsters. Things of Nightmares. Walking Abominations. The definition of a monster has primarily five different meanings. One would describe a legendary beast composed of both animal and human, such as a centaur. The second is any man or beast so hideous or grotesque that it literally frightens people. The third, of course, is any animal or human that is grotesquely deviating from the standard for “normal” as far as shape, behavior, or character. The fourth is defined as someone that excites horror by wickedness, cruelty, etcetera,” Sylo cocked his head for a moment.
His haunting pure blue eyes with slit like pupils, much like that of a reptile, a predator if you will, seemed to pierce through the camera which gave this eerie, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention, kind of vibe.
“Finally the fifth and final primary definition of a monster, of course, is any animal or thing which is huge in size. Now, you may wonder why I recited that, or even know the definition. That brings me to the point of all of this,” Sylo waved an apathetic hand behind him. “I plan to educate and teach…Magnus that a monster is something more than a man who plays shitty music at full blast and tries to scream over it. I plan to educate Magnus as to why I am THE monster and he is nothing more than another cookie cutter, dime store, and I use the word very loosely “monster,” Sylo clasped his hands behind his back, still staring into the camera, while his expression was plain yet his eyes seemed to be cold and calculating.
“You’ll watch these videos and you’ll understand the true evolution of a monster. Meanwhile, I’m more than certain you’ll scream about eviscerating me, ripping me apart limb from limb, and sending me to hell where the beasts of burden themselves can devour my soul or some other generic hey look at me I’m dark and I worship Satan bullshit.”
Sylo sighed, rolling his neck, letting all the tendons and bones crack and pop as he did so. Slowly, he ended his roll and ended up back where he started; staring directly back at Magnus or anyone else watching.
“A man can only be transformed into a true monster through pain; the pain of loss. The markers behind me are those of my mother and father. I’ll spare the gruesome details of their death but on that cold bitter day something awoke inside of me. I was five and as I grew so did the monster inside of me. As I learned it learned but it learned the world, it learned the darkness, it learned the hatred, and it would grow as it fed on my own hatred, pain, and every negative feeling of the human spectrum. You don’t wake up one day, throw on some tights, and become a monster, dime store.” Sylo’s eyes flared.
“You think you’re a monster but how can you be something you don’t even understand? You’re a fake, a phony, and a fool for stepping into a match with not just a monster but the definition of monster evolution. You will enter with your preconceived notions that you stand a chance but at the end, as you look up at the hot lights burning your eyes, the blood cascading from various wounds inflicted on your body, that’s the moment you’ll realize that I haven’t threatened you, that I haven’t tried to incite fear nor have I tried to intimidate you.” Sylo let the right side of his mouth curl into a sick smirk. His pearly white elongated canines sparkled with a deadly entrancing beauty.
“I’ve simply educated you. Until next time, class is dismissed.”
Sylo turned from the camera starring at the grave markers as the wind whipped and whistled until the world finally went to black.
(From the void emerges the terrifying sound of pain human screams, coupled with the sound of very inhuman laughter.)
Magnus Destructo HAHAHAHAHAHAW-HAW-HAW-HAWWW!!!
(FADE IN: On the Baron of Brutality, MAGNUS DESTRUCTO, in all of his para-demonic grandeur, cackling before the camera, a blazing fire-light glowing up from below. His red eyes seem fixated in sadistic appeal of whatever he sees down below in that fire. Not surprisingly, that seems to be where the screaming is coming from.)
BURN!! BURN, YOU WORTHLESS WRETCH!!
(More screams, hinting at even deeper agony and a forlorn conclusion of death. He motions to somebody off camera.)
OKAY, GOLLOMACH... THE ROAST IS READY!! PULL HIM UP!!
(The camera pans over for a moment to reveal an obese servant in a long black rubber suit and a murder mask, pulling down on a chain leading somewhere into the ceiling. He looks like a fat Bane.)
By your will, Sire...
(The shot drifts back over to the Dreaded Devourer, grinning with predatory delight as a flaming skeleton wearing the crisped remains of a striped referee’s uniform is chain-lifted out of a pit of fire at the Baron’s feet. Or, you know... a flaming prop skeleton, for you people who need that real-world continuity, or whatever. Magnus gives the charred human remains a solid kick with his monster-sized boot.)
Magnus Destructo HA-HA-HAAAAAHHH!!! SUFFER, YOU VILE SWINE!! SUFFER... FOR THE ATROCITIES YOU HAVE COMMITTED AGAINST THE BARON OF BRUTALITY!! WERE IT NOT FOR YOU, I WOULD BE CHAMPION OF THE ENTIRE INTER-GALAXY!!
Actually, Sire... we couldn’t find that exact ring official.
(His head zips back and forth between his corpulent servant and the flaming sack of bones and zebra stripes hanging off of a metal hook.)
...THEN WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!
If I recall... one of the replacement officials from the National Football League.
(Destructo ponders for a beat... and KICKS the charred corpse a second time.)
ASSHOLE!! YOU COST ME A FORTUNE IN WEEK THREE!!
(At this point, Destructo’s other, smaller servant, DULAK THE DEFILED, creeps into the shot, cringing in the shadow of the raging monstrosity that is the lord of the barony.)
Dulak the Defiled
Pardon my interruption, your inglorious excellency...
WHAT IS IT, YOU SCRAWNY CRACK-STAIN?! CAN’T YOU SEE I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF IMPORTANT BARONY-RULING BUSINESS!!
Dulak the Defiled
My humblest of apologies, your lordship... but you had previously tasked me to promptly inform you upon word received from your next doomed foe.
OH, JESUS CHRIST CRUCIFIED UPSIDE DOWN... THIS OUGHTA BE FUCKING RICH!!
(Destructo and his entourage exit the scene and we fade to black.)
(FADE IN: Within the throne room of the Keep of Eternal Darkness. The lights are dimmed, and over the sound of a running projector, we can hear the confident voice of the juggernaut out of jOlt known as Sylo. The shot opens on Dulak and Gollomach standing off to the side of the throne, the two exchanging a worried glance at one point, as if they were expecting something bad to happen. The camera pans over to the throne itself, where sits the Baron, head resting against a set of knuckles while the other hand impatiently taps the arm of his macabre seat.)
“...but at the end, as you look up at the hot lights burning your eyes, the blood cascading from various wounds inflicted on your body, that’s the moment you’ll realize that I haven’t threatened you, that I haven’t tried to incite fear nor have I tried to intimidate you.
“I’ve simply educated you. Until next time, class is dismissed.”
(As the footage ends, Magnus Destructo snorts in a way that makes you think of Jim Hellwig with an eight ball, but even then, you can hear a derisive tone in it. Standing up off the throne, he centers himself in front of the camera and begins shouting at the top of his lungs.)
SYLO... BARN... WHATEVER THE FUCK YOUR NAME IS... LET’S GET SOMETHING PERFECTLY STRAIGHT RIGHT HERE AND NOW... WE AREN’T WALKING INTO SOME GODDAMN CLASSROOM, YOU FUCKING NERD... WE’RE STEPPING INTO THE RING OF DEATH!!
I’M NOT HERE TO ARGUE SEMANTICS WITH YOU... I’M JUST COMING TO KICK YOUR HEAD IN SO HARD THAT YOU SHIT OUT YOUR OWN FACE, AND MOVE ON TO CLAIM THE INTERGALACTIC CHAMPIONSHIP THAT SHOULD ALREADY BE MINE BY RIGHT OF CONQUEST!!
I MEAN, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?! AFTER ALL THIS TIME WE’VE HAD TO SUFFER WATCHING YOU BE A PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE BITCH TRYING TO FISH FOR MY ATTENTION RATHER THAN JUST CHALLENGING ME LIKE A FUCKING MAN, YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT WHO BETTER DEFINES YOUR IDEA OF A “MONSTER”!?!
DOES BEING AN ORPHAN MAKES YOU A MONSTER?! MY MOTHER WAS NEARLY RIPPED IN HALF AT CHILDBIRTH, AND MY FATHER CHOKED TO DEATH ON A BABY BACK RIB BONE, THAT WAS MADE FROM AN ACTUAL BABY’S BACK!! SOUNDS TO ME LIKE A FIT YOUR DEFINITION, YOU DUMB, FAT FUCK!!
AND IF I’M NOT A MONSTER, THEN TELL ME... WHAT WORD DO YOU APPLY TO A MAN WHO JUST BURSTS INTO INTERGALACTIC CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING LIKE A SEVEN-FOOT TALL HURRICANE OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION AND UTTERLY DOMINATES THREE OTHER TOP WARRIORS OVER THE COURSE OF TWO MATCHES?!
DO YOU REALLY THINK ANYTHING WAS FAKE OR PHONY ABOUT THAT!? MAYBE YOU CAN ASK JACK-OFF HARMEN OR MISTER REDONKULOUS, WHEN EITHER ONE OF THEM GETS FINISHED PUTTING HIS JAW BACK INTO PLACE!!
ALLOW ME TO EDUCATE YOU ON WHY THEY CALL ME THE KING OF ALL MONSTERS...
(He glances over to Dulak, who is handling the controls to the DestructoTron. Magnus gestures to the screen as a slideshow recapping his stint a couple years back in Next Level Wrestling’s 2010 King of All Monsters Grand Prix. In the first shot, he has “the Polish War Machine” Hans Nowak wrangled into a complex submission hold, and the barrel-chested European powerhouse is in the midst of tapping. The agony on his face is juxtaposed with the sadistic glee that can be seen on the Baron’s painted face.)
SOME YEARS AGO, AS I WAS JUST IN THE BEGINNING STAGES OF CONQUERING THIS INFERNAL PLANET, I DID SOME WORK FOR A PROMOTION UP IN NEW YORK CITY... BECAUSE LET’S FACE IT, BUILDING AN INCINERATING DEATH RAY ISN’T GOING TO JUST FINANCE ITSELF!!
(The next frame shows Magnus lifting Zesty Mordant up onto his shoulders in preparation for the Destructo-Bomb. The feat seems rather remarkable, given the two-hundred and eight plus size of the wrestling hobo in the midst of having his head drilled into the canvas. Destructo seems to lift the man with ease.)
ONE OF THIS PROMOTION’S EARLIEST EVENTS WAS DUBBED “KING OF ALL MONSTERS GRAND PRIX”... A BIG CLUSTERFUCK TOURNAMENT COMPOSED OF MOSTLY OF FAT-ASSES, MONGOLOIDS, OTHER BIG MAN CLONES LIKE YOU, AND ONE GIANT NIGHTMARE OF A MAN WHO WAS KICKING THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE THEY PUT WITH HIM IN THE RING!!
(The next slide shows him pinning the Japanese brutalizer Yutaka Maeda to the mat in the tournament’s final round. After three matches, Destructo appears to be bleeding and blind... but the look of hungering rage is still there in his expression as he scores the win.)
NATURALLY, I DOMINATED ONE FAT SACK OF SHIT AFTER THE NEXT... LIKE A FUCKING BLACK METAL GODZILLA, STEPPING UP AND SHOWING ALL THE OTHER GIANTS ON THE PLANET THAT THE DREADED DEVOURER WAS THE BIGGEST AND BADDEST OF THEM ALL!!
(The last shot shows Magnus Destructo on the second turnbuckle, hoisting up the NLW Openweight Championship of the World.)
NOT JUST A MONSTER, TRUE, FAKE OR OTHERWISE... BUT A MOTHERFUCKING KING OF MONSTERS!! THE UNDISPUTED TOP OF THE PILE!!
(He glances off camera and draws a thumb across his neck. A moment later, the lights come up, and the DestructoTron slides into the ceiling. The Baron of Brutality now occupies every last square inch of our undivided attention, and so much more.)
YOU LIKE TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE SMARTER, BUT DON’T ASSUME I DON’T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT ALL THIS SHIT IS ABOUT!! YOU SEE A MAN LIKE ME, WHO IS JUST AS PHYSICALLY BIG AND DOMINANT AS YOU ARE... AND YET, I’M THE ONE WHO GOES INTO THE RING AND MAKES THE IMPACT A FUCKING SEVEN FOOT MONSTER SHOULD MAKE!! MEANWHILE, YOU’RE GETTING YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU BY MASKED MIDGETS IN MATCHES THAT CLEARLY FAVOR LANKY-ASS PUNKS LIKE YOU!!
AND IT PISSES YOU OFF, BECAUSE YOU HEAR THE SHOUTING, AND THE BLACK METAL, AND OVER-THE-TOP BRUTALITY, AND YOU THINK YOU’RE SOMEHOW ABOVE ALL THAT... LIKE PEOPLE SHOULD BE APPRECIATING YOU INSTEAD, BECAUSE YOU LIKE TO PRETEND TO BE INTELLECTUALLY SUPERIOR TO EVERYBODY!! YOU JUST AS SIMPLY ASSUME THAT ALL THE HYPE MAGNUS DESTRUCTO GETS IS FOCUSED ON THE STYLE, RATHER THAN THE SUBSTANCE!!
WHICH IS WHY ALL YOU CAN DO IS KNOCK THE NICKNAME, AND KNOCK THE STYLE... SINCE THERE’S OBVIOUSLY NOTHING YOU CAN POSSIBLY KNOCK WHEN IT COMES TO MY MONSTROUS PRESENCE IN THE RING!!
BUT BEHIND ALL THE BULLSHIT, THE SIMPLE TRUTH IS THAT THE TITLE OF “KING OF ALL MONSTERS” IS JUST A NICKNAME!! JUST SOMETHING FOR THE MEDIA TO THROW OUT THERE TO GET MORE IDIOT FANS IN THE SEATS!! IT DOESN’T DEFINE ME... BECAUSE, QUITE FRANKLY, THERE ARE NO WORDS TO DEFINE THE MASSACRE I’M GOING TO BRING TO YOU IN BETWEEN THOSE ROPES!!
AM I “TRUE” MONSTER OR A “FAKE” ONE!? WOULD IT MAKE ME MORE OF A MONSTER IF I WAS ACTING LIKE YOU, AND MOPING AROUND THE TOMBS OF MY PARENTS IN THE DESTRUCTO ROYAL CRYPTS LIKE SOME WIMPY, POETIC PUSSY?!
FRANKLY, CHICKEN COOP, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK... ALL I KNOW IS THAT MY MONSTER-SIZED BOOT IS COMING FOR YOUR FUCKING FACE!! WILL IT MATTER THEN WHICH OF THE FIVE DEFINITIONS OF MONSTER I FIT INTO?!
SPEAKING OF WHICH, NOT TO SHINE LIGHT ON THE FACT THAT YOU ARE A FUCKING MORON WHOSE PARENTS WERE PROBABLY BROTHER AND SISTER... BUT I THINK THE TERM “MONSTER” CAN BE APPLIED TO A LOT MORE THAN FIVE THINGS!!
LIKE, AN ENERGY DRINK...
OR A JOB SEARCH ENGINE...
OR A TYPE OF TRUCK...
OR A VARIETY OF INDOOR MINIATURE GOLF...
OR A CARTOON BASKETBALL PLAYER SLAMMING DUNKS FOR THE SOULS OF MICHAEL JORDAN AND THE CAST FROM LOONEY TUNES!!
(Dulak the Defiled timidly enters the shot at this point.)
Dualk the Defiled
Actually, master... I believe in the motion picture Space Jam, they are more specifically referred to as Mon-STARS...
(BAM!! Magnus decks his servant with an angry, punishing right hand.)
SEE WHAT HAPPENED THERE, PIG TROUGH?! HE TRIED TO EDUCATE ME... AND I EDUCATED HIM BACK, MY WAY!! NOW HE KNOWS NOT TO DO IT AGAIN, AS YOU WILL KNOW YOURSELF WHEN I AM THROUGH EDUCATING YOU AT “V FOR VICTORALICIOUS”!!
IF YOU WANT TO EDUCATE ME ON SOMETHING, PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE FUCK THIS “MONSTER’S BALL” THING IS SUPPOSED TO BE!! AM I EXPECTED TO BE A BILLY BOB TO YOUR HALLE BERRY, OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT?! DON’T GET ME WRONG, I FULLY INTEND TO DESTROY YOUR ASS, JUST NOT IN THAT WAY!!
AND LET’S BE CLEAR HERE... I’M ONLY REACHING THIS CONCLUSION BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF SEEM TO BE EDUCATED ON THE SOUNDS A MAN MAKES WHILE HE’S CHOKING DOWN A LOAD!! IF THAT’S YOUR SHIT, THEN I COULD HONESTLY GIVE A FUCK... THE BARONY OF DESTRUCTO RESPECTS ALL FAGGOTS, AND IF THERE’S ONE THING I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT TOLERATE, IT’S INTOLERANCE... BUT KEEP YOUR DICK THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, MAN!! I’M NOT HERE TO MAKE YOU FEEEHLL GUUUUDD...
(Chiming in from behind him, and very much outside of the Baron’s destructive reach, Gollomach chirps in.)
If I may suggest my humble council, sire... I believe in a Monster’s Ball match, the use of weapons and foreign objects is allowed, and even encouraged.
(Magnus looks back over his shoulder, looking absolutely stunned.)
...ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL?!
(Gollomach only nods as confirmation. Destructo’s eyes light up as his mind suddenly runs a million potential visions of apocalypse in a matter of seconds. He abruptly snaps his finger... and a moment later, Dulak comes back into the frame, still rubbing the painful welt on his face as he hands the Baron his massive and malicious looking morning star. He seizes it with evil to delight... and BAM!!, knocks Dulak out of the frame once again, seemingly for the hell of it. A bestial grin overtakes the Dreaded Devourer’s face as he brandishes the spiked club before the camera.)
WELL, THAT JUST MADE THINGS A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT MORE INTERESTING!! AS IF YOU WEREN’T ALREADY FUCKED BY INVOKING YOUR WRATH... NOW YOU’RE PUTTING THE MIGHT OF THE DESTRUCTO RIGHT INTO MY HANDS!!
BUT THIS ISN’T A PISSING MATCH FOR ME, COMPOST HEAP... I’M NOT TRYING TO PROVE THAT I’M THE BIGGER, BETTER MONSTER... BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW THAT I AM!!
ALL I’M GOING TO PROVE WHEN I GET INTO THAT RING AND BLUDGEON YOU TO A PULP IS THAT I AM THE UNDISPUTED AND UNSTOPPABLE ONE, TRUE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE!!
ALL YOU CAN POSSIBLY DO IS KNEEL BEFORE THE BARON AND BEG FOR A QUICK DEATH, OR SUFFER A SLOW AND AGONIZING OBLIVION AS I DEVOUR YOU ALIVE!!!
(Winding up like a baseball player, the Baron of Brutality swings his great spike club into the camera. A second of static upon impact immediately gives way to black.)
Authors Note: RStrawsma I'm sorry I haven't had more time to dedicate to this. Things have been crazy. Best of luck man and I can't wait to see what Voss cooks up for us.
Being THE Monster
Chapter II: Slaughterhouse
Unadulterated, pure, but something more lied in such darkness. It was the embodiment of the human condition that embraced the unknown as fear. It was the uncertainty of what loomed behind the veil. The eerie silence served as a protagonist to the fear of fatality that would only be broken by laughter.
It wasn’t some edited laughter that was forced to sound like a pig being fucked by Magnus, no; it was a normal, deep, and sincere laughter.
“Ask and you shall receive. Everything I said you’d do Magnus, you did, and now you’re grasping at straws. You think hollow mind games, petty name calling, and contradicting yourself is intimidating? You’re a fool. You take too much credit, you’re not even a blip on my radar, I wanted De Ocho and you became some sort of pathetic consolation prize. Don’t flatter yourself thinking I wanted you and before we continue I have to apologize to cookie cutter monsters around the world because you’re not a cookie cutter, no, you’re just the Intergalactic Committee’s stooge.”
The snap of fingers.
The darkness gave way to an inferno of blue fire. The flames licked toward the sky, hungry, wanting to taste flesh and scorch anything nearby. Sylo stood in the apex of it all. The mountain of a man stood with his arms crossed and an apathetic look planted solemnly on his face.
“See you ramble on and on spitting your mindless dribble all over the place and you can’t even form a coherent thought as your hired S&M gimps run around behind you. I could go on all day about all your various contradictions and how you try the same ol’ tired bullshit but I’ve already called your bluff and you’ve shown the world you’re everything I’ve said you are.”
Sylo extended a hand toward the flames, letting his fingertips dance across as each flame licked up trying to engulf the flesh that tantalized it so.
“You live in a reality that you’ve created but reality is all about perspective,” Sylo looked away from the screen and reached into the fire. The fire itself swarmed, engulfing one massive fist, yet Sylo remained calm. He pulled his hand out slowly and in his palm sat a patch of blue flames.
“Fire, in its purest form, will cleanse. I’ve bathed in the fires my entire career to the point I embrace the flame as though it’s a fond lover. You use fire as a magic trick to try and intimidate when you should bathe in the flame and embrace it as well.”
Sylo closed his fist and when he opened it the fire was extinguished.
“No better metaphor. Because, while you have fifth grade insults to match your fifth grade intellect, I actually plan to extinguish your fire. I’ll snuff you out, I’ll move on, and I won’t remember your name or face. No, Magnus, I realize now that the only way to educate you is through action. The only reality that matters isn’t some “ring of death” but the ring itself.”
Sylo snapped his fingers once more.
The scene shifted. Sylo stood in the center of a regular ring, back in reality.
“This. This is what’s real. This canvas is where I create art. Your blood serves as my paint and I will paint a masterpiece. Do you understand? Of course you don’t do you? You can’t beat me even if you wanted too. I’m already five moves ahead to the point you reach and you dig trying to find some way to use your old tired tactics when in reality, the real reality, you’re nothing more than a walking abortion with an Oedipus complex. I know you’re too stupid to know what that is so allow me to help. Use a thing called a computer, go to a site called Google, and look it up. “
Sylo crossed his massive arms once more.
“I can tell you exactly what I’m going to do and the thing is there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop me. I can match you pound for pound when it comes to strength and that’s really the only tool you have in your tool box. Meanwhile, I can take it to the ground, I can wrestle technical, I can use Muay Thai, and of course, my favorite, Brazilian Jujitsu.”
Sylo chuckled to no one in particular.
“Do you know what a triangle choke is? It’s become a favorite of mine. I’ve used it to put away so many people, including monsters…real monsters, not just some stooge in makeup insecure about his own sexuality. Let me tell you how this works because I think you’ll enjoy this. I call it the No Escape because there really isn’t any escape to be found.” Sylo smirked showing those elongated canines again.
“For ten seconds you’ll try to breath but there won’t be any oxygen to be found. Fifteen seconds later you pass out and finally, unless I’m merciful or someone breaks it up, after twenty seconds you reach brain damage or death. Now, think about how painful that is and now imagine if I break your ribs first, one of those ribs punctures your lung, and now I have that locked in. Your twenty seconds has just dropped significantly before you at least black out.”
Sylo was now staring directly at the camera in front of him. He was calm but his gaze, as always, was calculating and deadly.
“But I don’t care about a quick victory. This ring will serve as the surgical table and I’ll be the surgeon. I’ll dissect you and just before you slip off into an unconscious stupor I’ll remind you that you’re nothing but another sheep to me, another sheep sent to me to slaughter, and I’ll move past you without a second thought because you are not and never will be anything more to me than another sheep that came along and bleated a bunch of nonsensical rhetoric. Just like that Magnus, it’ll all be over, and you’ll finally realize your place in the food chain. I’m going to hurt you, badly, and I’ve told you how. Now bleat some more little sheep because when the time is right…”
Sylo snapped his fingers again and the world turned dark once more.
(FADE IN: Our scene opens in one of the many dark and cavernous chambers within the KEEP OF ETERNAL DARKNESS. Right away we can see the Dreaded Devourer himself -- MAGNUS DESTRUCTO -- standing upright and grinning sadistically at something he spies of camera. He throws a hand up past his shoulder...)
GOLLOMACH... FETCH ME THE ROYAL ARBALEST OF AGONY!!
(Quickly popping into the frame is his loyal servitor GOLLOMACH, who hands the Baron of Destructo a quite lethal-looking crossbow made of black steel and sporting many barbs along its edges. Magnus takes it within his grasp and takes aim at his point of focus.)
STEADY THE TARGET, YOU WEAKLING!!
(We cut over to what he’s looking at -- DULAK THE DEFILED audibly gulps as hoists two shaky arms as far over his head as he can put them. In his hands is an oil-painting portraying what appears to be a serene farm scene, including a bright red barn, a field full of livestock, and... a silo, which happens to have a prominent bullseye marked over it in red that clearly doesn’t look like it was part of the original artist’s vision. Not that he’d care, since he’s probably hanging on the walls of the Keep in four separate parts.)
(We go back to Magnus, as his shark-like grin widens, and he squeezes down on the trigger...)
(The shot returns to the target as Dulak recoils from the impact and quickly steadies himself... and we can see that Magnus’ aim is off by several inches. Rather than hitting the silo, the bolt he just fired got lost in the white and gray clouds in the sky. Magnus grumbles upon recognizing this blatant miss, and quickly hands the weapon back over to Gollomach.)
BAH... GIVE ME THE TOMAHAWK OF TORMENT!!
(Gollomach exits with the arbalest and quickly re-enters with a medieval hand axe ornately designed with a wicked black blade. When the weapon finds the Baron’s hand, the smile reappears on his face. He reels it back over his shoulder... and makes a STRONG throw!)
Magnus Destructo HEE-YAH!!
(Again, rather than hitting the target on the silo, the throwing axe instead bisects one of the cows in the pasture. Destructo GROANS with utmost annoyance.)
GGRRAAAHHH, THE SHURIKENS!! GET THE SHURIKENS OF SHADOW!!
(Gollomach pops out and back in again, setting a handful of black throwing stars into his master’s waiting hand. Magnus doesn’t show his smirk this time, and seems to be getting angrier as he hurls one star after another with increasing fury...)
(SFX: *TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!*)
(Miss, miss, and miss...)
GODDAMBIT, I CAN’T EVEN HIT THE BROAD SIDE OF THE BARN!!
...FUCK THIS SHIT...
(This time, Destructo himself goes out of the frame... and when he comes back, he’s wielding his favored morningstar, and comes charging at the target with a rebel yell.)
Magnus Destructo MMRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
(Dulak barely has a moment to clear out of the way as the spiked round end of the Baron’s mighty mace lands directly on its mark and nearly obliterates the entire chunk of canvas in the air. It drops at his feet with a ragged hole where the silo used to stand... and takes a few more hits to further destroy the work of art. Amidst his rampage, the camera pans over to Dulak and Gollomach, watching this scene of destruction.)
Dulak the Defiled
So uh... do you think he’s ever going to figure out that his opponent’s name has absolutely nothing to do with a farm silo?
...do you want to be the one to tell him?
(Dulak, who is well familiar with what happens when one tries to connect the dreaded Baron of Destructo, understandably nods and leaves the matter at rest, and the camera returns to Destructo as he kicks the painting of the farm scene to the side and turns his attention to the viewer.)
IF YOU’RE TOO FAR AWAY TO CRUSH IT TO A PULP WITH YOUR OWN HANDS, THEN YOU’RE TOO FUCKING FAR AWAY!!
(He hoists the club over his shoulder to adopt a more relaxed posture.)
LISTEN UP, SUPER-BITCH... AND FORGIVE ME IF I MAKE THIS TOO STRAIGHTFORWARD FOR YOU TO PROPERLY UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE IT SEEMS YOUR INBRED MIND ONLY CHURNS ON A LANGUAGE OF MEANINGLESS METAPHORS AND “DEEP THOUGHTS”...
ALL YOU DO IS DRONE ON ABOUT WHAT IS GOING TO GO DOWN IN THE RING, AND YET SO FAR... YOU HAVEN’T SAID A FUCKING THING TO CONVINCE ME THAT YOU’VE EVEN SEEN ME IN ONE!! WHAT PART OF “YOU CAN ONLY KNOCK MY STYLE” ARE YOU NOT ABLE TO UNDERSTAND?!
SERIOUSLY, ASSHOLE... I PRETTY MUCH STRAIGHT CALLED YOU OUT LAST TIME FOR FOCUSING TOO MUCH ON THE STYLE, AND NOT ENOUGH ON THE SUBSTANCE!! AND HOW DO YOU RESPOND?! BY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING!! WHO THE FUCK IS PREDICTABLE NOW?!
I MEAN, IF I REALLY WANTED TO INTIMIDATE YOU, I WOULDN’T DO IT THROUGH A FUCKING CAMERA!! ALL I WOULD DO IS POINT TO THE LAST SHOW, WHERE I ALL BUT DOMINATED TWO MEN AND DROVE A THIRD TO SUCH A POINT OF DESPERATION THAT HE NEEDED THE LEVERAGE OF MY OWN MIGHTY ASS TO KEEP MY SHOULDERS ON THE MAT!!
FORGET THE CONTRADICTIONS I MAKE, SLURPO!! I’M THE FUCKING BARON OF DESTRUCTO!! POLITICIANS ARE ALLOWED TO CONTRADICT THEMSELVES!! RATHER, IT’S YOUR CONTRADICTIONS THAT SPEAK VOLUMES!!
DON’T FUCKING WASTE MY TIME TALKING ABOUT “REALITY”, SUCKO!! IF YOU’RE GOING TO SIT THERE AND LECTURE ME ON REALITY BEING BASED ON PERSPECTIVE, THEN MAYBE YOU BETTER TAKE A LOOK IN THE FUCKING MIRROR AND SET YOURSELF AGAINST YOUR OWN STANDARD!!
REAL QUICK... LET’S TALK ABOUT THE REALITY YOU LIVE IN, SLOPPO...
IN YOUR REALITY... YOU CAN CUT A PROMO IN A SPECIAL SETTING AND DO CHEAP VISUAL EFFECTS TO GIVE YOUR EMPTY MESSAGES SOME SORT OF ADDED MEANING...
IN YOUR REALITY... YOU CAN THROW OUT CLICHED LINES LIKE “CLEANSED IN FIRE” AND “THE MAT IS MY CANVAS” AND “LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER” AND STILL THINK THAT PEOPLE WILL CONSIDER YOU ORIGINAL AND “CUTTING EDGE”...
IN YOUR REALITY... YOU CAN ACCURATELY PREDICT HOW A MATCH WILL TURN OUT BASED ON YOUR ABILITY TO ACCURATELY PREDICT A MAGNUS DESTRUCTO PROMO, WHICH ALREADY FOLLOWS A PRETTY PREDICTABLE FORMAT...
IN YOUR REALITY... YOU CAN ACCUSE YOUR OPPONENT OF BEING EVERYTHING THAT YOU ALREADY ARE... AND SOMEHOW, IN YOUR FUCKED UP HEAD, THAT ALL MAKES PERFECT SENSE!!
FROM MY PERSPECTIVE, SUCKO, YOUR REALITY LOOKS JUST AS FAKE AND PHONY AS YOU SAY MINE IS!! AND I KNOW THE RING IS REAL, DUMBASS... I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT FROM THE BEGINNING!! TAPE IS REAL TOO... SO MAYBE YOU SHOULD GO BACK AND CHECK OUT A COPY OF EYE-GEE-SEE’S “SORRY, YOU’RE NOT A WINNER”!! YOU’LL SEE ME STANDING IN THAT VERY REAL RING, DOING SOME VERY REAL THINGS TO SOME VERY REAL OPPONENTS!!
BECAUSE IF WHAT GOES DOWN IN THAT RING IS THE ONLY PROPER WAY TO JUDGE WHAT WE TRULY ARE, THEN QUITE FRANKLY, YOU DON’T EVEN FUCKING COMPARE TO ME!! I COMPETED IN TWO MATCHES IN A SINGLE NIGHT AND NEARLY WALKED OUT OF THERE AS THE CHAMPION OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE!! YOU WALKED OUT DEFEATED, LIKE THE BITCH YOU ARE, TO A MASKED ASS-CLOWN WHO OBSESSES OVER VIDEO GAMES!!
I DON’T CUT THESE PROMOS TO TRY AND IMPRESS YOU, COCKSWAB!! I DO IT BECAUSE THE INTERGALACTIC COMMISSION REQUIRES ME TO DO THEM AS A WAY OF HYPING THIS EVENT!! IF YOU WANTED TO BE IMPRESSED... THEN ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS WAIT FOR THE BELL TO RING, AND I’LL MAKE ALL THE IMPRESSION I NEED TO HELP YOU REALIZE YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG FREAK BY VIOLENTLY CLUBBING OFF YOUR HEAD WITH THIS MACE!!
OR DID YOU ALREADY FORGET THAT THIS IS A MONSTER’S BALL MATCH?! ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID, SHILOH?!
FUCK YOUR “NO ESCAPE”, OR WHATEVER SHITTY NAME YOU GAVE TO A MOVE THAT ALREADY HAD A PERFECTLY WORKABLE NAME APPLIED TO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!! ALL THE GOOD IN THE WORLD YOUR KRAP MAGA AND BRAZILIAN JACK-OFF-TSU IS GOING TO DO WHEN I USE THIS TO CAVE IN YOUR GODDAMB SKULL!!
TAKE THIS FOR WHAT IT IS, SHITZO... NOT AN EFFORT TO WOW YOU WITH MY BRIGHT AND BEAMING INTELLECT... BUT A SIMPLE HEADS UP, THAT YOUR HEAD IS COMING OFF, AND THE INTERGALACTIC CHAMPIONSHIP IS COMING TO THE BARONY OF DESTRUCTO!! SO TRY NOT TO PISS YOURSELF WHEN THE FRAGILE SHELL OF YOUR REALITY CRACKS AND EVERYTHING YOU’VE EVER KNOWN TO BE TRUE IS RAZED BENEATH THE PURE WRATH OF THE DREADED DEVOURER!!
(With booming laughter thundering across the walls of the Keep of Eternal Darkness, we fade to black before the horrid sight of the Baron of Brutality haunts us a second longer.)
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