Post by Laura Phoenix - HBIC on Dec 13, 2021 1:15:18 GMT -5
PWS: APEX Crusade 2021
Tuesday, December 28, 2021
Amway Center - Orlando, FL
PWS: APEX Collateral Damage Championship Match
Weapons-Filled Steel Cage Match
Jonathan Sanders © vs. Violet Amelia Holt
12/26/2021 at 11:59:59 PM EST
Min 500, Max 5000
Post by Violet Amelia Holt on Dec 26, 2021 18:07:45 GMT -5
That word hung in the air for a long time as Violet's head was looking down at the ground with her hands clasped together. Her pinkish blonde hair is tied up in pigtails as the scene shows her sitting on a steel chair inside a steel cage.
Have you ever felt helpless Jonathan? That's what I felt when you cowardly attacked my sister and my nineteen year old cousin just to try and get under my skin. I hope that attack was worth it Jonathan because I have news for you. You failed! You failed at getting under my skin. That helpless feeling left my body the moment I heard this match was going to be inside a steel cage. Do you want to know why I no longer feel helpless?
Violet slowly tilts her head up. Her face is covered in some kind of warpaint as her eyes are extremely cold with a blank stare into the distance. Her hands remain clasped together as her elbows are sitting on top of her knees.
The reason I no longer feel helpless is because I can see all the unthinkable things I can do to you. For once, you can't cower away from this beating that's coming your way. I am fully aware that you will fight back but what good will it do for you. Have you any idea what's waiting for you?
Violet violently gets up out of her chair while letting out a feral scream.
This past Riot, I said that you royally fucked yourself after what you did to my family. Trust me. I meant every fucking word. You see Jonathan, I had this feeling that you were going to do something to try and get inside my head. I got news for you. You failed Jonathan. You haven't been the same since I got right up in your face and told you that I was going to be taking the collateral damage championship. It must be so hard for you to understand when someone doesn't find you the least bit intimidating. Yes, you have a lot of monikers and you probably live up to every single one of them. However, I don't give two shits about them. All I care about is feeling your flesh being ripped off your body by the steel mesh that will surround us. Let's forget about the added toys that the bosses will place inside for us to use on each other. The cage itself is a weapon and I will use it to perfection.
Violet unclasps her hands while holding them in front of her face with both palms facing her.
These hands have been known to be very lethal. With these hands, I can squeeze the life out of you and you wouldn't even feel it. I can place these hands around each of your limbs and snap them like twigs. These hands can leave you battered and bruised. These hands don't care if they are covered with blood. These hands don't care if you can see again or not. These hands will introduce you to every ounce of that cage. These hands are aching for a fight and they will break everything including your face.
Violet slides her hands down her face. Before she can say something else, the door leading into the room swings open as a man in his early thirties steps across the threshold.
Babe, are you almost done? We have dinner reservations.
Violet sighs annoyingly while looking down at the watch on her left wrist.
No. I am not almost done. Do you have any idea how much I want to say to this raging prick? I want him to know just how fucked he truly is come Crusade.
From what you told me, he isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer or in the block. So don't waste so much oxygen on a piece of shit like him. If he hasn't figured out how tenacious you are when your mind is set on something then clearly he is the one who will be left hurting. Now will you get out of that cage.
Violet shakes her head violently while interlocking her fingers around parts of the cage.
This cage is just a mere example of how comfortable I am with tight spaces. Jonathan Sand-dick has no earthly idea of the monster he has released from the confines within my own mind. He probably wants to take claim for my ruthless nature but I won't allow him. Why? Because I was born this way. I am my father's daughter and come Crusade. I will unleash the beast that has laid dormant for so fucking long. This will mean more to me than setting Candy on fire. Trust me. I enjoyed every second of it. So imagine if that was fun for me then just think how excited I am for completely annihilating that walking parasite.
The man just shakes his head while looking down at his watch.
Hurry up! We are going to be late.
Violet unlocks the cage door, steps out of it and walks up to the man. She lifts one hand up, moves it along his chin before gripping her hand around the end of it. The man lets out a whimper as Violet forces him down to his knees. A look of fear comes over his face as Violet's eyes seem to show little emotion.
Men are always in a hurry to go somewhere even when that path leads to nowhere. Just look at Jonathan Sanders. He rushed his attack on my family and it was sloppy. He didn't take time to savor the moment. He also made the biggest mistake of his career. He made me watch. Now Jonathan Sanders will suffer. Jonathan Sanders will find out that five feet of crazy isn't a fucking moniker. He could have just attacked me. Now, he will watch as I dismantle every corner of his fantasy world. His turd squad will not be able to protect him. If he thinks the cage will be a safe haven then he clearly lives in a false reality. That cage isn't a cage. It's my FUCKING playground. So I hope you are ready to bleed for your cause because I am ready to send your ass to the hospital. With that being said, I have one question to ask you.
Violet shoves the man kneeling in front of her down as the look on her face changes to something very demented. A sly smirk forms across her lips as her hand runs through the loose strands of hair.
Do you want to play?
After asking that question, Violet chuckles under her breath before walking out of the room. The man scurried out as a picture of Jonathan Sanders with his face crossed out in red and black market is left hanging inside the cage with a thumbtack stuck between his eyes. The scene slowly begins to fade as more laughter can be heard from the hallway.
Post by Jonathan Sanders on Dec 26, 2021 22:56:16 GMT -5
ANTITHESIS: THREE SPIRITS
*Fade in. We open on a raging snowstorm. The blizzard isn't quite causing total whiteout conditions, but it's very close. Vaguely, through the snow, we can spot a huge, looming building in the distance. As we get closer - through a series of camera cuts and video glitches - it becomes clear this is some sort of disused, dilapidated prison. Our scene moves slowly inside the facility, zooming in through one of the windows, as a familiar voice can be heard narrating...*
“‘Man! If man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!’”
*We pan around now to reveal the source of the quote - none other than PWS: Apex Collateral Damage Champion, Jonathan Sanders. The Lost Cause is seated inside the prison cell, moonlight and snowflakes streaming through the barred window, as he reads from an old and battered copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens. The yellowed pages shine against the dim orange light above, while the moon reflects off the golden faceplate of the Collateral Damage title belt slung loosely over Sanders’ shoulder. He’s clad in an ANTITHESIS hoodie and a black leather jacket, with spikes adorning one shoulder and both wrists to about the mid-forearm. Slowly, he shuts the book and sets it aside, standing from his current position and making his way towards the window of the cell so he can gaze out into the snowstorm.*
“I once adored this time of year…”
*He turns, now, and makes his way back away from the window and towards the cell door. He reaches out slowly and runs his fingers across the sturdy, tarnished steel bars.*
“When I was a child - a prisoner, trapped in my own Hell by the horrible tyrant who created me - I always looked forward to the holidays. Things seemed somehow…better, then. As if the violent found their calm, and the evil saw the light. I would always look forward to Christmas. No matter how horrific things became, how dire my situation grew…I always knew I had to hang on. I had to see one more Christmas. It was the only time of year I ever truly felt free. Able to shed the fetters of my fear and dare to ask for what I want. Not my parents, of course…or, at least, not my father.”
*Sanders spits the word violently, with more than a little bitter vitriol behind it.*
“But my mother would always try to make the season brighter. She gave me an alternative means of speaking out. A comforting lie that made me feel slightly less alone in this brutally frigid world that holds us all so captive. My mother allowed me to believe in Santa Claus.”
*A bitter smirk crosses the Horseman of Plague’s face, the derisive gesture betraying his true feelings on the subject.*
“I believed it without question, for a time - and this should not be surprising. As you might expect, I found some comfort in the notion of a magical, kind man with an overwhelming desire to reward innocent children for their good work and punish the guilty with a rigid, righteous justice. I wished that I could meet him. I wrote so diligently to this figment, so dutifully abided by all the season’s guidelines - I even drafted multiple copies of every letter I would send, so I could be absolutely certain I had accurately impressed the importance of my singular request. I even sacrificed the solace of my sleep to ensure I had the slightest chance to finally see my saviour. I’d stay awake on Christmas Eve, foregoing the comfort of oblivion and pressing my ear to the window all night long, straining to block out the sounds of violence and screams and whimpering just so I might hear anything that would mean my letters had been answered. Any sign that my wishes had come true…and every year, I’d end up disappointed. I would pour my hope into this foolish child’s dream, this…poisonous idea that some mythical yuletide cobbler could save me from my pain. And yet, year after year, I’d let myself believe. Even as I suffered every letdown, awoke every Christmas morning to find my captor still alive and my mother slowly succumbing to his awful, toxic influence…still I clung fast to my hope.”
*Here, he pauses, slowly sitting down on the bench inside the prison cell, letting his head droop and gaze fall to the floor as the wistfulness creeps into his tone.*
*Sanders pauses, lifting his head slowly to look into the camera. He bears a look of conflicting emotions.*
“Why could I not break myself of Christmastime’s enchanting spell? Even as I aged, as my mortal chains drew tighter and this wicked world broke my spirit down…why could I never bring myself to truly hate this holiday? For this, I have no answer. It is my own phantom. My inescapable Ghost of Christmas Past, the spectre of a long-dead child and the life he could have lived. …Perhaps it was my mother. It wasn’t until she was gone that I ceased believing. When the thing that called itself my father finally went too far, and snuffed out the one bright light in the suffocating sea of darkness and despair that was my life…THAT is when I finally gave up on Santa Claus. When I finally gave in to that darkness, when I looked into the mirror and found a new saviour…the man I would become. The Ghost of Christmas Present. An Outsider to the human race, a cautionary tale of the lost and the damned, who can look in on them like a dark reflection and SHOW them the consequences of their evil!”
*Sanders pauses, his expression slowly blossoming into a chilling, wicked grin.*
“…And I will be your spectre tonight, Violet Amelia Holt. Heaven knows, you need one.”
*Here, the champion pauses again, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm himself.*
“Have you ever stopped to consider how you will be remembered, Violet? How your actions will shape the future that awaits you? I have. I do it all the time. It isn’t easy, of course; to cast an eye towards the end, to really ponder the sort of legacy that we will leave upon this broken, blighted world…not many have the strength to see it through. But I really think you should. The results can be…illuminating, when we finally realize who - and what - we truly are. When we finally see our future. Ebenezer Scrooge saw his, and it irrevocably changed his life. He was given the opportunity to see EXACTLY what would become of him if he continued on his course, but it was NOT the ending he was hoping for. And yours will not be either, Violet.”
*Sanders pauses now, his smirk returning as he leans forward in his seat, steel-grey eyes locking on the camera.*
“I know what you WISH that you could be. How you HOPE to be remembered, at the end. I know you want to be the woman who finally dethroned Jonathan Sanders - the rising Roman empress, who toppled Octavian and claimed his kingdom for her own. You want to be the one who wasn’t scared of me, who stepped into my realm and took me to a place that everyone before you has failed to reach…my point of no return. You WANT this ending for yourself, Violet. You want to leave this LEGACY. And it may be fueled, in part, by vengeance - you want to knock me from my throne not only for yourself, but to avenge your poor, defenceless family…”
*The Snake of Eden drips a bitter, sardonic sarcasm with those three words, his tone mocking Violet before returning to his usual cold, calculating antipathy.*
“…But you know it’s not to be. Caesar Augustus ruled unchallenged, Violet Holt. The First Emperor of Rome was not SLAIN by an enemy! He left this world on his own terms, holding the throne until death itself saw fit to creep into his palace, and drag him from his bed! And you would seek to challenge ME? You have failed once already, girl, and life does NOT give second chances except to embarrass us again. You truly need this lesson, if you think that I am a problem YOU can handle. If you believe you are prepared for me...you’re just as lost as Ebenezer Scrooge. You NEED me, to help show you the truth…”
*Sanders leans forward, his gaze hardening as he lets the title hang loose between his legs.*
“That you and I? We’re the same, deep down. Nothing. Ants upon the leaf. Tiny, insignificant insects, scrambling in the cosmic dust, borne against our will on capricious winds towards an ending that none of us can escape. We all are prisoners of fate. It is the name we give to our Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come…and this is what I shall be for you, Violet. I will show you what lies at the end of the path that you have chosen. I will show you EXACTLY how you will be remembered. You will fail yet again. Your legacy will lie as a pauper in an unmarked grave, the uninspired epitaph of a would-be conqueror who never saw the gold she so desperately craved. I am your Jacob Marley, Violet Scrooge. I am the thing that watches you from the other side of the mirror. The image you loathe to see, the dark black spot you fear to mention. I am YOUR personal phantom of the yuletide season, dogging you at your most vulnerable moment to show you the truth that you are destined for. Because I KNOW where you’re going. I have BEEN where you’ll end up…but unlike Scrooge, you have no chance OR hope of escaping this fate.”
*Sanders’ lip curls into a derisive, snarling smirk, as his steel-grey orbs glare daggers into the camera. He hoists the belt up onto his shoulder as he stands to full height, marching forwards past the camera and shoving it out of his way. It falls to the floor, causing static and distortions as we see Dionysus tearing the cell door open with great force. The video corrupts into blackness as the pair walk off through the prison. Fade out.*