Post by EmbodimentOfFear on Apr 20, 2012 13:40:53 GMT -5
Zane Scott arrived at the Allphones Arena in Sydney to the sight of people moving quickly out of his path. He loved the look of terror on all of their faces, in truth he lived for it.
For a man of this caliber, who thrives on violence and suffering, it was a bit of a surprise to find a package sitting waiting for him when he entered his locker room. He would have gone back to check the sign on the door to the room, if in truth he actually cared whether he was in his own room or violating someone else’s. Instead, he decided it did not matter. The moment he stepped foot in this room, it was his.
He tore open the package to find a handheld recorder sitting inside it. After studying it for a moment, he pressed play.
“Hello, Mr. Scott. I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. My name is Phrixus Deimos, and it has come to my attention that you will be stepping foot at No Holds Barred into the Hall of Mirrors. If you’ll excuse my presumptiveness, I thought I might impart some thoughts upon you. It is the least I can do, after all, your actions on Synergy served to deepen my own purse.”
Scott growled, but continued to listen.
“There have been five of these matches in history. Beyond myself, the names of the people that participated in them are names which are likely of no consequence or importance to you. Phoenix. Alan Fernandez. Matt Marauder. Jet Somers. What you are not in a position to know, Mr. Scott, what you should be aware of, is that all of these people, much like myself, excelled at breaking a person down, a piece at a time. They were master technicians, refined tools, people who used their intelligence. Moss Edwards is much like these people. From what I have seen, you are more of a blunt instrument.”
“Say this to my face, champ, and I’ll shove this recorder so far up your ass your stomach will be able to digest it.”
But Phrixus was not present to respond to the comment. The recording simply continued.
“You are the first of your kind to step inside the reflective maze. I have no doubt in my mind that you could snap Edwards in two, much as you did on Synergy, but the reality is that you are facing him in a match where the only person you are guaranteed to see is yourself. Edwards could locate his championship and escape with it before you so much as catch a glimpse of him. You are a living tool of terror, Mr. Scott. I can appreciate that, of course. There is no question about your strength and brawn. Perhaps you should view this as your opportunity to show the world that you have the wits to match it.”
From: LivingFear@gmail.com
To: pfredrickson@ugwc.com
Subject: Hall of Mirrors
Date: April 18, 2012
Ms. Fredrickson,
I would like to thank you for scheduling my interview with the local media in Sydney prior to No Holds Barred. I would, of course, be more than happy to once again make a public appearance on behalf of our organization. It is true that I have nothing better to do with my time than plod from appearance to appearance like your trained chimpanzee.
Please extend my congratulations to Mr. Edwards for being able to now share his power and responsibilities with another. I know there is nothing more exhilarating than having to double-check with somebody else before you do anything, like make use of the facilities. I have no doubt that he was so excited with this development, he likely had to change his pants. Tell me, as his assistant, do you do his laundry for him? I recommend Tide with color-safe bleach.
In my continuing gratitude, perhaps you could pass the following along to Mr. Edwards, in anticipation of his big title defense at No Holds Barred. Remind him of the conversation I had with him a few months back, reminding him of the place that his championship holds in my heart, and of the promise that I made should he ever dishonor it.
My signature victory when I was the Cross-Hemisphere Champion came inside the Hall of Mirrors. I would be ever so disappointed if Mr. Edwards were to lose that same championship within it. It would be like a slap in my face. Fortunately, an idea came to me recently. What if you coordinated with Ms. Harding and broadcast information about the maze to Mr. Edwards during the match? After all, I’m sure an “Auteur” of this caliber would be perfectly comfortable wearing an ear piece so that she could communicate with him while he was in the maze, wouldn’t you agree? I believe they should share all their responsibilities now. Losing this match, losing that championship, would be the fault of them both. Fitting, don’t you think?
The bottom line is that Moss faces a challenge unlike any that I ever did in my five times in the maze. This is not an inherently violent match, but it can be made to be, and Zane Scott strikes me as being as sadistic as they come. It would not shock me if he simply lowered his head and ran through all the mirrors to the center, picked up the belt, and ran through the rest of the mirrors out the other side, before wondering ten minutes later why he felt so light-headed.
Whatever you do, Ms. Fredrickson, do not fail to deliver the following message.
Make me proud.
Yours,
Phrixus Deimos
World Heavyweight Champion
The information contained in this e-mail, and any attachment, is confidential and is intended solely for the use of the intended recipient. Access, copying or re-use of the e-mail or any attachment, or any information contained therein, by any other person is not authorized. If you are not the intended recipient please return the e-mail to the sender and delete it from your computer. Although we attempt to sweep e-mail and attachments for viruses, we do not guarantee that either are virus-free and accept no liability for any damage sustained as a result of viruses.
“G’day, everyone! Chips O’Toole here, standing by with American champion Phrixus Deimos, the World Heavyweight Champion of the Unified Global Wrestling Coalition. G’day, Phrixus!”
“Tool.”
“Um, that’s O’Toole. Right. You have come to our bush to participate in the No Holds Barred: Down Under event, where you will be defending your championship against local here, “The Cyclone” JK in what I’m told is called a Blood, Pride, Death Match. Can you tell us about it?”
“Your…local hero…is about to face the darkest places of his inner soul. This is a match, an environment, where he is going to discover that he is out of his own league. Winning this match means accomplishing three tasks. You have to make your opponent bleed. You have to make your opponent submit. Finally, you have to decimate your opponent to the point that they cannot answer a ten count. For JK, this match will be a nightmare.”
“Your opponent is going to have an entire nation supporting him. To say you will be facing a hostile crowd would be an understatement. Doesn’t this put you at a disadvantage?”
“It gives me every advantage. JK’s biggest concern isn’t me. It isn’t winning the championship. It’s not embarrassing himself on the grandest stage of his entire career, in front of family and friends. They will see his blood. When he is trapped in Millennial Decay, when every fiber of his very being wants to shout that he quits, he will see the faces of his loved ones staring back at him. When he fails to answer the count of ten, it will be counting down to the death of the heart of a nation. There is no pressure on me, all there is, is the fear and anxiety felt deep within this young kid, about to face his darkest day. He can’t help but feel it. He can’t help but fear it. So often we talk about the weight of the world on a person’s shoulders. JK quite literally has the weight of a country, a burden that will be too heavy to bear. These fans have gathered to watch their native son have his greatest achievement. They have come to watch his final back-breaking failure. When No Holds Barred comes to a close, JK will know a new meaning, a new existence, of fear itself.”
For a man of this caliber, who thrives on violence and suffering, it was a bit of a surprise to find a package sitting waiting for him when he entered his locker room. He would have gone back to check the sign on the door to the room, if in truth he actually cared whether he was in his own room or violating someone else’s. Instead, he decided it did not matter. The moment he stepped foot in this room, it was his.
He tore open the package to find a handheld recorder sitting inside it. After studying it for a moment, he pressed play.
“Hello, Mr. Scott. I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. My name is Phrixus Deimos, and it has come to my attention that you will be stepping foot at No Holds Barred into the Hall of Mirrors. If you’ll excuse my presumptiveness, I thought I might impart some thoughts upon you. It is the least I can do, after all, your actions on Synergy served to deepen my own purse.”
Scott growled, but continued to listen.
“There have been five of these matches in history. Beyond myself, the names of the people that participated in them are names which are likely of no consequence or importance to you. Phoenix. Alan Fernandez. Matt Marauder. Jet Somers. What you are not in a position to know, Mr. Scott, what you should be aware of, is that all of these people, much like myself, excelled at breaking a person down, a piece at a time. They were master technicians, refined tools, people who used their intelligence. Moss Edwards is much like these people. From what I have seen, you are more of a blunt instrument.”
“Say this to my face, champ, and I’ll shove this recorder so far up your ass your stomach will be able to digest it.”
But Phrixus was not present to respond to the comment. The recording simply continued.
“You are the first of your kind to step inside the reflective maze. I have no doubt in my mind that you could snap Edwards in two, much as you did on Synergy, but the reality is that you are facing him in a match where the only person you are guaranteed to see is yourself. Edwards could locate his championship and escape with it before you so much as catch a glimpse of him. You are a living tool of terror, Mr. Scott. I can appreciate that, of course. There is no question about your strength and brawn. Perhaps you should view this as your opportunity to show the world that you have the wits to match it.”
* * * * *
From: LivingFear@gmail.com
To: pfredrickson@ugwc.com
Subject: Hall of Mirrors
Date: April 18, 2012
Ms. Fredrickson,
I would like to thank you for scheduling my interview with the local media in Sydney prior to No Holds Barred. I would, of course, be more than happy to once again make a public appearance on behalf of our organization. It is true that I have nothing better to do with my time than plod from appearance to appearance like your trained chimpanzee.
Please extend my congratulations to Mr. Edwards for being able to now share his power and responsibilities with another. I know there is nothing more exhilarating than having to double-check with somebody else before you do anything, like make use of the facilities. I have no doubt that he was so excited with this development, he likely had to change his pants. Tell me, as his assistant, do you do his laundry for him? I recommend Tide with color-safe bleach.
In my continuing gratitude, perhaps you could pass the following along to Mr. Edwards, in anticipation of his big title defense at No Holds Barred. Remind him of the conversation I had with him a few months back, reminding him of the place that his championship holds in my heart, and of the promise that I made should he ever dishonor it.
My signature victory when I was the Cross-Hemisphere Champion came inside the Hall of Mirrors. I would be ever so disappointed if Mr. Edwards were to lose that same championship within it. It would be like a slap in my face. Fortunately, an idea came to me recently. What if you coordinated with Ms. Harding and broadcast information about the maze to Mr. Edwards during the match? After all, I’m sure an “Auteur” of this caliber would be perfectly comfortable wearing an ear piece so that she could communicate with him while he was in the maze, wouldn’t you agree? I believe they should share all their responsibilities now. Losing this match, losing that championship, would be the fault of them both. Fitting, don’t you think?
The bottom line is that Moss faces a challenge unlike any that I ever did in my five times in the maze. This is not an inherently violent match, but it can be made to be, and Zane Scott strikes me as being as sadistic as they come. It would not shock me if he simply lowered his head and ran through all the mirrors to the center, picked up the belt, and ran through the rest of the mirrors out the other side, before wondering ten minutes later why he felt so light-headed.
Whatever you do, Ms. Fredrickson, do not fail to deliver the following message.
Make me proud.
Yours,
Phrixus Deimos
World Heavyweight Champion
The information contained in this e-mail, and any attachment, is confidential and is intended solely for the use of the intended recipient. Access, copying or re-use of the e-mail or any attachment, or any information contained therein, by any other person is not authorized. If you are not the intended recipient please return the e-mail to the sender and delete it from your computer. Although we attempt to sweep e-mail and attachments for viruses, we do not guarantee that either are virus-free and accept no liability for any damage sustained as a result of viruses.
* * * *
“G’day, everyone! Chips O’Toole here, standing by with American champion Phrixus Deimos, the World Heavyweight Champion of the Unified Global Wrestling Coalition. G’day, Phrixus!”
“Tool.”
“Um, that’s O’Toole. Right. You have come to our bush to participate in the No Holds Barred: Down Under event, where you will be defending your championship against local here, “The Cyclone” JK in what I’m told is called a Blood, Pride, Death Match. Can you tell us about it?”
“Your…local hero…is about to face the darkest places of his inner soul. This is a match, an environment, where he is going to discover that he is out of his own league. Winning this match means accomplishing three tasks. You have to make your opponent bleed. You have to make your opponent submit. Finally, you have to decimate your opponent to the point that they cannot answer a ten count. For JK, this match will be a nightmare.”
“Your opponent is going to have an entire nation supporting him. To say you will be facing a hostile crowd would be an understatement. Doesn’t this put you at a disadvantage?”
“It gives me every advantage. JK’s biggest concern isn’t me. It isn’t winning the championship. It’s not embarrassing himself on the grandest stage of his entire career, in front of family and friends. They will see his blood. When he is trapped in Millennial Decay, when every fiber of his very being wants to shout that he quits, he will see the faces of his loved ones staring back at him. When he fails to answer the count of ten, it will be counting down to the death of the heart of a nation. There is no pressure on me, all there is, is the fear and anxiety felt deep within this young kid, about to face his darkest day. He can’t help but feel it. He can’t help but fear it. So often we talk about the weight of the world on a person’s shoulders. JK quite literally has the weight of a country, a burden that will be too heavy to bear. These fans have gathered to watch their native son have his greatest achievement. They have come to watch his final back-breaking failure. When No Holds Barred comes to a close, JK will know a new meaning, a new existence, of fear itself.”
x2
