Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 29, 2010 20:01:22 GMT -5
Damn I was nervous in that chair. Just sitting there, the camera straight in front of my face. I was performing in front of the entire world! I had never done anything like this before. It was all so awkward. Just a lens bearing judgement down upon me and an empty seat to my side for my partner. How the major professionals did this on a regular basis I had no idea. My legs were already beginning to tremble. Then I looked up and saw a familiar, comforting face. Obese Tony stood behind the thick haired, surly looking cameraman, giving me an enthusiastic double thumbs up. I then noticed Jason Reeves enter the door to Tony's right. He saw me and began smiling from ear-to-ear.
"So you know how this works, right?" he asked. "I just ask you the questions and you tell the people your answers. Then later on we'll post the videos from all the nominees up on GIW.com. It's simple. You ready?"
I nodded and grinned. Of course I was ready. I had to be ready! If I wasn't, I might just blow my only chance. And that simply was not an option!
The camera reveals Jason Reeves sitting in a large, black, leather seat, with Brandon McSkinny in an identical chair, opposite him.
Reeves: Alright Brandon McSkinny, why should the fans vote for you for the Women's Title match at In Your Hands? Technically, you're not even a chick.
Skinny: I BE ALL DA CHEEK YOU CAN HANDLE, JASEEN!!!
Reeves: Um... wow...
Skinny: DA PEEPS SHOULD VOTE FO SKEENY, SO SKEENY CAN BE MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: Umm... and what exactly is 'man Champ'?
Skinny: SKEENY FO MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: Umm... yes... but, you were beaten by Misery at Guerrilla Warfare -in a rather humiliating fashion, I might add - if the fans vote for you, won't you just lose again?
Skinny: NOTHEENG CAN STOP SKEENY FROM BEING MAN CHAMP! DECLEEN EEZ BACK AND HE WILL TRAIN SKEENY TO BE MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: But why would Declan want to train you to take a Title from a faction he's apart of?
Skinny: COZ EVERYONE WANTS TO SEE SKEENY AS MAN CHAMP!!!
Reeves: Okay then... thanks for your time, Brandon...
Jeez, I was terrified. I think I nearly blasted Jason's poor head off with my shouting. I always shout though, especially when I'm nervous. Drowning out the butterflies with pure, deafening sound always does the trick.
I cast my vision away from Jason, who was smiling at me, reassuringly. I knew he thought I fucked it up. My eyes fell upon Obese Tony, who was clapping and whistling in appreciation. I knew he thought I did great.
I was about to stand up, feeling surprisingly confident with myself. Then it happened. My entire body turned to jelly and I felt my stomach rise into my throat. Two figures had just entered the room. One was a lean, yet muscular, dark haired and fiery eyed man. His blue eyes fell upon me and I felt his loathing of me penetrate all the way to my soul. But it didn't bother me, as I knew for a fact that I would one day gain Declan Prescott's respect. No, no, it was the near anorexic, milky skinned blonde woman hanging off his arm. Her hazel green eyes were set on me, flooded with annoyance. How she loathed me? But those eyes weren't the ones that filled me with terror. They weren't the one I saw on that fateful night...
The hour was late and the night was dark. What a lonely building the GIW HQ was when the sun had set. I pressed the buzzer with a sigh and then turned my focus to the camera above my head.
"Yeah?" a gruff voice sounded over the intercom by the door.
I smacked myself on the forehead for forgetting that the camera wasn't used after business hours - no one was on the other end. Instead they used the intercom to allow potential clients access. I pressed down on the speaker button and uttered the code phrase. The door to the building opened and I entered gleefully.
As I made my way down the hallway I saw that the door to the security room was slightly open. A thin beam of light shot into the otherwise blackened hall through the gap. I could hear desperate rummaging and a familiar, yet so different, voice hissing curse words. I made my way towards the door and etched it open ever so slightly. At least I meant to. I lost my footing and went tumbling into the security room. As I looked up, to my shock, the princess of GIW herself, Cara Costello, was staring back at me, a security tape in her hand. I noticed that her skirt and top were flecked with fresh blood. From the floor I could also see that she wasn't wearing any underwear. The blood instantly evaporated from my immediate memory.
"What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking dog dick?!" she spat, with hostility I hadn't thought possible from her.
I lied, of course. Screamed something about losing my glasses at the top of my lungs. I was so nervous! She could never know the 'hardcore' truth, as to why I was there!
"They're on your face, you little cunt!" she spat, her words fuelled with more hatred than I thought was possible for any human being. "You came to stop me, didn't you?! YOU WANT TO HURT US!!!"
I screamed and pleaded that she was mistaken. That I didn't even know what she was talking about. She didn't believe me. She pulled me up by the hair and slammed me into the wall with strength her tiny frame had no right to possess. She wrapped her hands around my Adam's apple and began digging her nails remorselessly into my throat. I yelped in helpless agony.
That's when I noticed them. The eyes in her skull. They belonged to someone else. Someone different. Someone evil. They were fiery. They were empty, consumed only by hatred. Hollow eyes that belonged to a devil, not the sweet, timid, if somewhat spoilt, angel I had known for the past two years. Whatever was squeezing the life out of my being, I knew it wasn't Cara Costello.
"You're a liar!" this person spat, saliva flicking onto my face and distorting the view through my glasses. "You want to send us away! Has it ever occurred to you that HE attacked HER first?!"
I pleaded more and more that I had no idea what she was talking about. She didn't listen. She just kept digging deeper and deeper into my body. Within seconds I would be dead.
With one, final, gasp of air I muttered the words 'house of fun'. Her grip instantly loosened and I could again breathe, but she did not relinquish the hold entirely and I was still in tremendous agony.
"Tell anyone about what you saw here," she hissed, with more terror than the serpent of Eden himself. "And I will kill you!"
The eyes that were in her head now belonged to an angel. An imperfect angel by all means, but one that could never bring herself to physically harm another human being. She valued life even more than her partner. As she gently tickled his arm with her long, bright pink nails and rubbed her soft, glowing blonde hair on his chest, I knew she was not the same person that had threatened to take my life. But I knew if I told anyone of this, that being would come back to make good on their promise. There was only one possible choice for me.
Silence.
The sickening sight of Obese Tony. The annoying sight of Jason Reeves. The infuriating sight of Brandon McSkinny. As Declan Prescott observed his surroundings, only five words swirled throughout his head.
"It's good to be back."
"It's good to have you back," Cara squeaked, as she pressed her forehead into his chest. "I didn't like it without you."
He wrapped his arm around her and lightly kissed her on the crown, before the pair made their way towards the large, leather seat, McSkinny's pathetic frame was barely occupying. The definition of jobber seemed even more excitable than usual, as Declan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed a thumb to the door.
"YEAH, BOSS! REAL SORREE! I JUST... JUST... NEED TO GET DA PEEPS ON SIDE FOR DA 'SKEENY FO MAN CHAMP' CAMPAIGN! I KNOW I CAN DO EET!!"
Declan nodded insincerely, before Skinny shot a nervous glance at Cara and then rushed from the chair. He promptly lost his footing and fell face first to the carpet. Not being deterred in the slightest, he instead began crawling his way to the exit. The pair stared on at this train wreck of a display, both totally bewildered, as Obese Tony followed his friend out of the room.
"That guy is so weird," Cara spoke.
"Too right," was Declan's reply of agreement.
"You ready boss, sir?" Reeves asked, extending his hand for a shake, which Declan completely ignored.
"No way," Declan responded. "This clip isn't going to be an interview, but a one man show. No homo, naturally."
Declan palmed Reeves out of the camera's view, before gently pressing his lips to Cara's and then taking his seat. Cara stepped back, out of shot, and clapped her hands together in excitement. Declan knew she had struggled since his absence and he knew she, perhaps subconsciously, resented, even despised, him for breaking his promise. He vowed to make it up to her, no matter what the price.
Declan Prescott sits in a large, all black, leather chair, slumped back casually, tapping his fingers on the arm rests.
Declan: How long it's been? Eight weeks without stepping anywhere near this grand company. It's... relieving... to be back. But so much has happened in those eight weeks. New faces, old faces, new Champions, new losers. I feel like a father watching his child grow. I can't deny that Global Impact Wrestling has excelled in my absence. Imagine how well it could have done if I was still here?!
Declan smirks arrogantly, rubbing his chin, as he does so.
Declan: Firstly, allow me to thank my lovely girlfriend, Cara Costello. She has done an exceptional job of running this place, while I was recovering. In fact, she even did something I could not. She took away Chris Austin's Hardcore Championship! It's inspiring to know that there's a person you can trust entirely and be rewarded for it. She is truly... inspiring.
Declan now leans forward in his chair, so his face is only inches away from the camera.
Declan: And now for the rest of you. The jokers, the wannabees, the fakers and the players. I'll begin by addressing the faction that yours truly now belongs to: Global Domination. The team born of my creation. You have kept Cara safe and maintained her control of the company. Thanks to your combined effort, no one questioned, even for a moment, who was running this place during my departure. You played your role exactly as I wanted you to. After all, Global Domination was born from my genius, lets not forget. Hell, I never cared about any of you.
Cara *from off-screen*: Declan!
Declan shoots his gaze to his left momentarily, before setting his eyes back into the lens.
Declan: It's fine, my sweetheart. They were only ever using you, too. And we'll all continue using each other for as long as it serves us. But this veil of companionship isn't fooling anyone anymore. You think Donovan Hastings cares about what happens to Cara Costello?! Ha! Him and that witch of his are more concerned about winning a single match, than what anyone else is doing. You yourself saw it, Cara. At Guerrilla Warfare, who was Hastings looking out for? Hastings! Not that I blame him. And what of Komosube? He'd rather snap you in half, than piss you on if you were on fire.
Declan again shoots a quick glance to his left, before focusing on the camera once more.
Declan: Komosube, on the other hand, I do take issue with! What exactly had you done before Global Domination came to power? Been beaten by the Brown cousin, who took all the bad genes the family had to offer? You owe everything you have to Global Domination! You owe it all to me! I respect the hell out of you and what you've done, but none of it would have been possible without GD! You have to accept this fact. That's why, at Sentinel this week, you're going to lie down for me. I'm going to cover you, get the one, two, three and enter that Global Title match vote! You need to learn some respect and that's how you're going to do it. Your time for the gold will come, but just not yet.
Cara: I don't think -
Declan: Trust me, baby, it's going to be fine. Komosube will prove he's a team player and I'll take that Global Title once again! And speaking of the Global Title, I guess that brings me to Lord Deathman. The General Of Destruction himself. You became the third man to hold that prestigious Championship and, for that, I say congratulations. But of course, the question must be burning in your mind. Why?! Why did I wait until after your stretcher match to reveal myself? It's simple, really. I wanted to see if you were worthy of the Global Title. I wanted to see if you had what it takes to defeat all challengers. Turns out, you don't. You proved you're just a bench warmer. Just a chump keeping Brown busy, until I returned to win back MY Title! AND NOW HERE I AM!
Declan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, opens his eyes once more and continues speaking. The fire building in his voice seems to have quietened back down.
Declan: Brandon Brown. The Champ himself. The man who can overcome any obstacle put in his path! The most resilient star the world has ever witnessed! That's what they say, anyway... he didn't look so resilient when he was being carried out of the arena on a stretcher, after I worked him over with that sledgehammer. Of course, it's hypocritical of me to judge. Brown beat me. Took me out for two months. He had to tear down half an arena to do it, but the man straight up out-performed me. Of course that was two months ago. And the experience - the humiliation - the defeat - the pain - of No Holds Barred, still stings me to the very core.
Declan now presses his hand onto his side, as if feeling for something the audience can't see. He soon shakes it off and continues.
Declan: To say I'm a changed man since then would be a colossal understatement. They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger and Brown very nearly killed me two months ago. Yes, two entire months of my life, gone. Without a trace! I intend to make up for them, which I'm sure Brandon is well aware of, as he watches this from his hospital bed.
Declan now shuffles his shoulders and leans back in his chair.
Declan: And while I'm on the topic of revenge, Chris Austin, the man you can move through time and space himself. Let me tell you this; your suffering has only just begun! Not only were you completely outclassed in front of the world, losing the only thing that makes you mean anything, I can personally guarantee that you will NEVER hold a Championship in Global Impact Wrestling ever again! And not only that...
Declan leads forward once more, so his face is almost touching the camera lens.
Declan: ...if you ever lay your hands on Cara again, I'll rip them out of your body!!!
Declan straightens himself up in his seat, clearly growing agitated by the thoughts racing around his mind. He takes several moments of heavy breathing to cool himself down and then continues.
Declan: And the list of old enemies continues, as I'm now inclined to bring up the topic of Andy Savana. The man who returned at Toxic Intent. You've always had talent Savana and no one can deny that. You seem changed since we last encountered each other. More focused - driven with determination. I know you're most likely plotting my downfall, even as I speak. Does it concern me? Of course. Is that concern justified? Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?
Declan winks, seemingly playfully - although only the ignorant would not take him seriously - at the camera.
Declan: And now for Sean Jensen. Of course I had to talk about this guy. When I left, you were facing jobbers in between quitting for a week at a time. Now you've worked your way into the Hardcore Title scene and acquired a posse, who seem to be more interested in furthering your own exploits, than their own desires. It seems I'm not the only changed man around here. I say congratulations, Jensen. Perhaps the boy has finally become a man? Your brother Levi has also moved up in the world. He scored his very first win in some four months at Guerrilla Warfare. It would appear as though Witham's place in the world is on the up, now that he's left his brother's side. How... interesting?
Declan smiles smugly, clearly thinking more than he is revealing.
Declan: And the final of my old acquaintances, Savage and the Whites. How did I forget to mention you, while I was talking about Global Domination, Nazi boy? Oh that's right... it's because you have done absolutely nothing ever since this stable was formed! You've been jobbed out, like chump change at every bend! And that's when you can actually wrestle a match, rather than pissing yourself and running in the opposite direction at the sight of that Neanderthal and his paedophile brother! You're pathetic and I say that not to mock you, but because it's the truth. Where is the Savage I saw, that took Chris Austin to the absolute limit?! Where is the Savage that believed himself to be apart of the mightiest race on our planet?! He's been replaced by a scared little dog, who's so frozen by fear, he can't even stick his tail between his legs! You sicken me!
Declan shakes his head, with frustration and disappointment.
Declan: But with time, comes change. And how the face of GIW has changed since I was last here. There are many new faces I have come to know and, in some cases, even respect. Travis Roberts, I'll start with you. The supposedly 'Blessed One' himself. Most people thought you were committing career suicide when you alienated yourself from both GD and those opposing them... what are those guys called? Oh right, they don't even have a name. Yet here you are Roberts, being considered talented enough to have the opportunity to fight for our industry's most coveted prize. While I disagree with just about everything you've done and I despise the fact you so arrogantly turned your back on Global Domination, you have never once disrespected Cara. For that, I respect you. Just make sure to stay out of my way and there's no reason the two of us will have any problems.
Declan now holds his hand out, as if holding an invisible note pad, and draws a tick across it with his index finger and thumb.
Prescott: Of course I can't forget the man from the future and his pet science project, Aaron Kizz and Prototype. Kizz, you may have some skills, winning that battle royal at the last Sentinel, but I'd take your scrap pile back to the workshop, to be honest. Losing your very first match is never a good sign. Speaking of, what about that Jack Severino? You've shown some impressive skills since you debuted and, if I'm to be honest, I think you've just had some bad luck. But I like your style, Severino. That backwater country you call a home on the other hand...
Declan smirks to himself and then shakes his hand.
Prescott: Moving on to the least hardcore man in GIW, Dylan James. A win over both members of Hiroshima proves you've got some skills, but the company you keep proves you're incredibly insecure about your own abilities. Aesc The Dark? Honestly, I'd laugh if I didn't pity you so much. That demented, sideshow circus freak will bring nothing, but misery down on your career. Just look at his if you don't believe me.
Declan bites down on his bottom lip, clearly showing mocking embarrassment. He clears his throat and continues speaking.
Prescott: While on the topic of wasted potential, I now have to address Jack Ryans. An up and down career you've had since arriving here, but, whether a fan or a detractor, no one can deny that your quest for 'justice' in this place has been a complete and utter train wreck of a disaster. You call me corrupt, unjust, vile, while I lie in a hospital bed, fighting for my life. You sicken me Jack Ryans. You presume to know that which you are entirely ignorant of. The only thing you know about me is that I'm more of an accomplished wrestler than you could ever hope to be. Beyond that, I am an enigma to you. Take your 'morality' and judgement someplace else.
Declan then examines his imaginary checklist once more and gasps in mock amazement.
Prescott: It seems I've reached the end of my list. Only one name left. The second ever GIW Hardcore Champion, Randy Boolzian! The tar smoking, caffeine chugging, inbred, likely illiterate, illegitimate child of Rita Sue and her second cousin, Billy Bob Junior. Wait... how foolish of me? I confused you with the latest waitress you banged over the deep fryer at the nearest Pig 'n' Muck roadhouse. Not that it's any of my concern how you spend your spare time. Just stay the hell away from me, while you do it.
Declan now raises his hands in surrender.
Prescott: No, no, no. I apologise, BoolZ. There really isn't any need for us to have any issues. After all, you did what I've been trying to do since March - take that Hardcore Championship from Austin! More to the point, you did it under the guise of being his ally!!
Prescott now bursts into a hysterical fit of laughter for several moments. He soon regains his composure, but is still smiling from ear-to-ear.
Prescott: It was beautiful. The way you set him up and knocked him down! Or perhaps, it was just some friendly competition. Maybe the downfall of Chris Austin was never your intention, simply an unavoidable side effect. I don't presume to know. What I do know is that your little boy squad is officially dead. You think Austin is going to be able to even be in the same room as you, let alone putting his trust in you after what you did to him?! OH, IT'S JUST ALL TOO MUCH!!!
Prescott now erupts into laughter once more and this time falls from his chair in the process. We can only hear his squeals of delight, as he rolls around the carpet in hysterics. After several, long moments, he climbs back into his chair, still chuckling to himself.
Declan: BoolZ, this little war you've been trying to wage against Global Domination?
The Significant Player now leans forward and presses his forehead onto the lens of the camera, so his breath fogs it as he speaks.
Declan: You just lost!
Declan waved his arm in the air, to signify to the cameraman that the promo was over. He then stood up from his feet and stared at the hairy, plump man operating the device. The GIW employee nodded eagerly, clearly indicating that the promo was of top quality. Declan mused whether the chubby man actually meant what his actions indicated, for the smallest fraction of an instant. He then spun on the sport and grinned at Cara, feeling his heart grow slightly heavier, as he was met with only a disapproving frown from the woman he loved.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said, before biting nervously on her bottom lip.
Declan tilted his head innocently, as if having no idea what she was speaking of.
"Don't do that!" she barked, more playfully, than angered.
She then couldn't help but grin, as Declan continued staring at her with his best puppy dog eyes working overtime. She then surrendered and giggled, before Declan took a step towards her, embraced her in his arms and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
"I'm serious though," she moaned. "Talking about GD like that? It's going to make them all really mad."
"Nonsense," Declan replied, already noticing the water swelling at the bottom of Cara's eyes. "I only said what they're all thinking. In terms of in-ring performance, the group was a disaster. They're a mess. They can't band together as one and they know it."
"Performance?" Cara inquired, as the two left the room, Declan with his arm around her shoulder and Cara with her arm around his lower back. "What else were they meant to do?"
"They were never meant to perform well," Declan retorted, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. To his pleasure, the corridor was completely deserted. "They only ever had one purpose and they played it perfectly."
"And what's that?" she asked, with genuine confusion.
Declan smiled, wrapped both his hands around her buttocks and pulled her off the floor, towards him. She squeaked in surprise, but then wrapped her arms around his neck and rested the side of her head on his shoulder.
"To keep you safe," he whispered, as he began strolling down the hallway, Cara's soft, fragile frame still in his arms.
"Me?!" she gasped, in total surprise. "But... you never told them that."
"And we won't."
"But if they find out..."
"They won't," Declan said, with total confidence. "Besides, it won't be much longer, anyway. Once I've secured the Global Championship, we'll have no further use for any of them."
"About that," Cara spoke, her voice shaking with insecurity. She was obviously less convinced on the matter, than Declan. "Do you really think Komosube will just let you beat him?"
"Yes."
"What if he doesn't?"
"Then he'll pay the price for his actions. Remember, Global Domination are still on our side."
"You talk like we're not even apart of the group!" Cara protested, miniscule trails of water now running down her cheeks.
"Because we're not," Declan responded. "Not really. They just have to think we are."
"If you get hurt again -"
"I won't!" Declan reassured her, taking a hand from her rear end and stroking her soft, golden hair with it. "I prom -"
Declan stopped mid-sentence, as Cara stared at him, her eyes narrowed with distain. Declan nodded in defeat.
"I won't get hurt," he said weakly.
"You better not!" she pouted, clearly growing very agitated. "But even if Komosube lets you pin him, who's to say you'll win the vote? The fans don't seem to like you very much. Especially after what you did to Brandon..."
"HA!" Declan laughed. "That doesn't matter!"
"What do you mean?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"Of all the guys who will make it to that vote," Declan spoke, unable to contain his enormous grin. "Who's the one man with unrestricted access to GIW.com, including fan interactive polls?"
"You are..."
"Yeah, I am," he said, winking. "And I can guarantee that no matter who the fans vote for, the result of that poll is going to be exactly the same."
"You're so naughty!" she squealed, seemingly overcome with delight. "And you're so smart!"
Declan pressed his lips to Cara's, who instantly pushed her face into his, as hard as she could. After several, intimate moments, Declan withdrew and took a deep breathe, feeling Cara's saliva on his lips cool, as the air touched it. He then smiled at seeing the door to his left.
"We're here," he said, although Cara seemed too busy running her tongue along his neck to take in any of his words.
He shrugged and pushed the door to his office at the GIW arena open with a single hand and stepped gracefully through the threshold. He was filled with both pride and comfort, to once again be in this room. Those feelings instantly vanished, however, replaced by a sinking feeling in his stomach, at the sight before him. A slick man in a navy blue suit, with greasy, slicked, black hair and a gun attached to his belt, was leaning on Declan's desk.
"Well good afternoon, Mr. Prescott," the man said, nodding slightly. "Name's Douglass Maguire. I'm a detective with the L.A.P.D. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."
"So you know how this works, right?" he asked. "I just ask you the questions and you tell the people your answers. Then later on we'll post the videos from all the nominees up on GIW.com. It's simple. You ready?"
I nodded and grinned. Of course I was ready. I had to be ready! If I wasn't, I might just blow my only chance. And that simply was not an option!
* * * * *
The camera reveals Jason Reeves sitting in a large, black, leather seat, with Brandon McSkinny in an identical chair, opposite him.
Reeves: Alright Brandon McSkinny, why should the fans vote for you for the Women's Title match at In Your Hands? Technically, you're not even a chick.
Skinny: I BE ALL DA CHEEK YOU CAN HANDLE, JASEEN!!!
Reeves: Um... wow...
Skinny: DA PEEPS SHOULD VOTE FO SKEENY, SO SKEENY CAN BE MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: Umm... and what exactly is 'man Champ'?
Skinny: SKEENY FO MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: Umm... yes... but, you were beaten by Misery at Guerrilla Warfare -in a rather humiliating fashion, I might add - if the fans vote for you, won't you just lose again?
Skinny: NOTHEENG CAN STOP SKEENY FROM BEING MAN CHAMP! DECLEEN EEZ BACK AND HE WILL TRAIN SKEENY TO BE MAN CHAMP!
Reeves: But why would Declan want to train you to take a Title from a faction he's apart of?
Skinny: COZ EVERYONE WANTS TO SEE SKEENY AS MAN CHAMP!!!
Reeves: Okay then... thanks for your time, Brandon...
* * * * *
Jeez, I was terrified. I think I nearly blasted Jason's poor head off with my shouting. I always shout though, especially when I'm nervous. Drowning out the butterflies with pure, deafening sound always does the trick.
I cast my vision away from Jason, who was smiling at me, reassuringly. I knew he thought I fucked it up. My eyes fell upon Obese Tony, who was clapping and whistling in appreciation. I knew he thought I did great.
I was about to stand up, feeling surprisingly confident with myself. Then it happened. My entire body turned to jelly and I felt my stomach rise into my throat. Two figures had just entered the room. One was a lean, yet muscular, dark haired and fiery eyed man. His blue eyes fell upon me and I felt his loathing of me penetrate all the way to my soul. But it didn't bother me, as I knew for a fact that I would one day gain Declan Prescott's respect. No, no, it was the near anorexic, milky skinned blonde woman hanging off his arm. Her hazel green eyes were set on me, flooded with annoyance. How she loathed me? But those eyes weren't the ones that filled me with terror. They weren't the one I saw on that fateful night...
The hour was late and the night was dark. What a lonely building the GIW HQ was when the sun had set. I pressed the buzzer with a sigh and then turned my focus to the camera above my head.
"Yeah?" a gruff voice sounded over the intercom by the door.
I smacked myself on the forehead for forgetting that the camera wasn't used after business hours - no one was on the other end. Instead they used the intercom to allow potential clients access. I pressed down on the speaker button and uttered the code phrase. The door to the building opened and I entered gleefully.
As I made my way down the hallway I saw that the door to the security room was slightly open. A thin beam of light shot into the otherwise blackened hall through the gap. I could hear desperate rummaging and a familiar, yet so different, voice hissing curse words. I made my way towards the door and etched it open ever so slightly. At least I meant to. I lost my footing and went tumbling into the security room. As I looked up, to my shock, the princess of GIW herself, Cara Costello, was staring back at me, a security tape in her hand. I noticed that her skirt and top were flecked with fresh blood. From the floor I could also see that she wasn't wearing any underwear. The blood instantly evaporated from my immediate memory.
"What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking dog dick?!" she spat, with hostility I hadn't thought possible from her.
I lied, of course. Screamed something about losing my glasses at the top of my lungs. I was so nervous! She could never know the 'hardcore' truth, as to why I was there!
"They're on your face, you little cunt!" she spat, her words fuelled with more hatred than I thought was possible for any human being. "You came to stop me, didn't you?! YOU WANT TO HURT US!!!"
I screamed and pleaded that she was mistaken. That I didn't even know what she was talking about. She didn't believe me. She pulled me up by the hair and slammed me into the wall with strength her tiny frame had no right to possess. She wrapped her hands around my Adam's apple and began digging her nails remorselessly into my throat. I yelped in helpless agony.
That's when I noticed them. The eyes in her skull. They belonged to someone else. Someone different. Someone evil. They were fiery. They were empty, consumed only by hatred. Hollow eyes that belonged to a devil, not the sweet, timid, if somewhat spoilt, angel I had known for the past two years. Whatever was squeezing the life out of my being, I knew it wasn't Cara Costello.
"You're a liar!" this person spat, saliva flicking onto my face and distorting the view through my glasses. "You want to send us away! Has it ever occurred to you that HE attacked HER first?!"
I pleaded more and more that I had no idea what she was talking about. She didn't listen. She just kept digging deeper and deeper into my body. Within seconds I would be dead.
With one, final, gasp of air I muttered the words 'house of fun'. Her grip instantly loosened and I could again breathe, but she did not relinquish the hold entirely and I was still in tremendous agony.
"Tell anyone about what you saw here," she hissed, with more terror than the serpent of Eden himself. "And I will kill you!"
The eyes that were in her head now belonged to an angel. An imperfect angel by all means, but one that could never bring herself to physically harm another human being. She valued life even more than her partner. As she gently tickled his arm with her long, bright pink nails and rubbed her soft, glowing blonde hair on his chest, I knew she was not the same person that had threatened to take my life. But I knew if I told anyone of this, that being would come back to make good on their promise. There was only one possible choice for me.
Silence.
* * * * *
The sickening sight of Obese Tony. The annoying sight of Jason Reeves. The infuriating sight of Brandon McSkinny. As Declan Prescott observed his surroundings, only five words swirled throughout his head.
"It's good to be back."
"It's good to have you back," Cara squeaked, as she pressed her forehead into his chest. "I didn't like it without you."
He wrapped his arm around her and lightly kissed her on the crown, before the pair made their way towards the large, leather seat, McSkinny's pathetic frame was barely occupying. The definition of jobber seemed even more excitable than usual, as Declan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed a thumb to the door.
"YEAH, BOSS! REAL SORREE! I JUST... JUST... NEED TO GET DA PEEPS ON SIDE FOR DA 'SKEENY FO MAN CHAMP' CAMPAIGN! I KNOW I CAN DO EET!!"
Declan nodded insincerely, before Skinny shot a nervous glance at Cara and then rushed from the chair. He promptly lost his footing and fell face first to the carpet. Not being deterred in the slightest, he instead began crawling his way to the exit. The pair stared on at this train wreck of a display, both totally bewildered, as Obese Tony followed his friend out of the room.
"That guy is so weird," Cara spoke.
"Too right," was Declan's reply of agreement.
"You ready boss, sir?" Reeves asked, extending his hand for a shake, which Declan completely ignored.
"No way," Declan responded. "This clip isn't going to be an interview, but a one man show. No homo, naturally."
Declan palmed Reeves out of the camera's view, before gently pressing his lips to Cara's and then taking his seat. Cara stepped back, out of shot, and clapped her hands together in excitement. Declan knew she had struggled since his absence and he knew she, perhaps subconsciously, resented, even despised, him for breaking his promise. He vowed to make it up to her, no matter what the price.
* * * * *
Declan Prescott sits in a large, all black, leather chair, slumped back casually, tapping his fingers on the arm rests.
Declan: How long it's been? Eight weeks without stepping anywhere near this grand company. It's... relieving... to be back. But so much has happened in those eight weeks. New faces, old faces, new Champions, new losers. I feel like a father watching his child grow. I can't deny that Global Impact Wrestling has excelled in my absence. Imagine how well it could have done if I was still here?!
Declan smirks arrogantly, rubbing his chin, as he does so.
Declan: Firstly, allow me to thank my lovely girlfriend, Cara Costello. She has done an exceptional job of running this place, while I was recovering. In fact, she even did something I could not. She took away Chris Austin's Hardcore Championship! It's inspiring to know that there's a person you can trust entirely and be rewarded for it. She is truly... inspiring.
Declan now leans forward in his chair, so his face is only inches away from the camera.
Declan: And now for the rest of you. The jokers, the wannabees, the fakers and the players. I'll begin by addressing the faction that yours truly now belongs to: Global Domination. The team born of my creation. You have kept Cara safe and maintained her control of the company. Thanks to your combined effort, no one questioned, even for a moment, who was running this place during my departure. You played your role exactly as I wanted you to. After all, Global Domination was born from my genius, lets not forget. Hell, I never cared about any of you.
Cara *from off-screen*: Declan!
Declan shoots his gaze to his left momentarily, before setting his eyes back into the lens.
Declan: It's fine, my sweetheart. They were only ever using you, too. And we'll all continue using each other for as long as it serves us. But this veil of companionship isn't fooling anyone anymore. You think Donovan Hastings cares about what happens to Cara Costello?! Ha! Him and that witch of his are more concerned about winning a single match, than what anyone else is doing. You yourself saw it, Cara. At Guerrilla Warfare, who was Hastings looking out for? Hastings! Not that I blame him. And what of Komosube? He'd rather snap you in half, than piss you on if you were on fire.
Declan again shoots a quick glance to his left, before focusing on the camera once more.
Declan: Komosube, on the other hand, I do take issue with! What exactly had you done before Global Domination came to power? Been beaten by the Brown cousin, who took all the bad genes the family had to offer? You owe everything you have to Global Domination! You owe it all to me! I respect the hell out of you and what you've done, but none of it would have been possible without GD! You have to accept this fact. That's why, at Sentinel this week, you're going to lie down for me. I'm going to cover you, get the one, two, three and enter that Global Title match vote! You need to learn some respect and that's how you're going to do it. Your time for the gold will come, but just not yet.
Cara: I don't think -
Declan: Trust me, baby, it's going to be fine. Komosube will prove he's a team player and I'll take that Global Title once again! And speaking of the Global Title, I guess that brings me to Lord Deathman. The General Of Destruction himself. You became the third man to hold that prestigious Championship and, for that, I say congratulations. But of course, the question must be burning in your mind. Why?! Why did I wait until after your stretcher match to reveal myself? It's simple, really. I wanted to see if you were worthy of the Global Title. I wanted to see if you had what it takes to defeat all challengers. Turns out, you don't. You proved you're just a bench warmer. Just a chump keeping Brown busy, until I returned to win back MY Title! AND NOW HERE I AM!
Declan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, opens his eyes once more and continues speaking. The fire building in his voice seems to have quietened back down.
Declan: Brandon Brown. The Champ himself. The man who can overcome any obstacle put in his path! The most resilient star the world has ever witnessed! That's what they say, anyway... he didn't look so resilient when he was being carried out of the arena on a stretcher, after I worked him over with that sledgehammer. Of course, it's hypocritical of me to judge. Brown beat me. Took me out for two months. He had to tear down half an arena to do it, but the man straight up out-performed me. Of course that was two months ago. And the experience - the humiliation - the defeat - the pain - of No Holds Barred, still stings me to the very core.
Declan now presses his hand onto his side, as if feeling for something the audience can't see. He soon shakes it off and continues.
Declan: To say I'm a changed man since then would be a colossal understatement. They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger and Brown very nearly killed me two months ago. Yes, two entire months of my life, gone. Without a trace! I intend to make up for them, which I'm sure Brandon is well aware of, as he watches this from his hospital bed.
Declan now shuffles his shoulders and leans back in his chair.
Declan: And while I'm on the topic of revenge, Chris Austin, the man you can move through time and space himself. Let me tell you this; your suffering has only just begun! Not only were you completely outclassed in front of the world, losing the only thing that makes you mean anything, I can personally guarantee that you will NEVER hold a Championship in Global Impact Wrestling ever again! And not only that...
Declan leads forward once more, so his face is almost touching the camera lens.
Declan: ...if you ever lay your hands on Cara again, I'll rip them out of your body!!!
Declan straightens himself up in his seat, clearly growing agitated by the thoughts racing around his mind. He takes several moments of heavy breathing to cool himself down and then continues.
Declan: And the list of old enemies continues, as I'm now inclined to bring up the topic of Andy Savana. The man who returned at Toxic Intent. You've always had talent Savana and no one can deny that. You seem changed since we last encountered each other. More focused - driven with determination. I know you're most likely plotting my downfall, even as I speak. Does it concern me? Of course. Is that concern justified? Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?
Declan winks, seemingly playfully - although only the ignorant would not take him seriously - at the camera.
Declan: And now for Sean Jensen. Of course I had to talk about this guy. When I left, you were facing jobbers in between quitting for a week at a time. Now you've worked your way into the Hardcore Title scene and acquired a posse, who seem to be more interested in furthering your own exploits, than their own desires. It seems I'm not the only changed man around here. I say congratulations, Jensen. Perhaps the boy has finally become a man? Your brother Levi has also moved up in the world. He scored his very first win in some four months at Guerrilla Warfare. It would appear as though Witham's place in the world is on the up, now that he's left his brother's side. How... interesting?
Declan smiles smugly, clearly thinking more than he is revealing.
Declan: And the final of my old acquaintances, Savage and the Whites. How did I forget to mention you, while I was talking about Global Domination, Nazi boy? Oh that's right... it's because you have done absolutely nothing ever since this stable was formed! You've been jobbed out, like chump change at every bend! And that's when you can actually wrestle a match, rather than pissing yourself and running in the opposite direction at the sight of that Neanderthal and his paedophile brother! You're pathetic and I say that not to mock you, but because it's the truth. Where is the Savage I saw, that took Chris Austin to the absolute limit?! Where is the Savage that believed himself to be apart of the mightiest race on our planet?! He's been replaced by a scared little dog, who's so frozen by fear, he can't even stick his tail between his legs! You sicken me!
Declan shakes his head, with frustration and disappointment.
Declan: But with time, comes change. And how the face of GIW has changed since I was last here. There are many new faces I have come to know and, in some cases, even respect. Travis Roberts, I'll start with you. The supposedly 'Blessed One' himself. Most people thought you were committing career suicide when you alienated yourself from both GD and those opposing them... what are those guys called? Oh right, they don't even have a name. Yet here you are Roberts, being considered talented enough to have the opportunity to fight for our industry's most coveted prize. While I disagree with just about everything you've done and I despise the fact you so arrogantly turned your back on Global Domination, you have never once disrespected Cara. For that, I respect you. Just make sure to stay out of my way and there's no reason the two of us will have any problems.
Declan now holds his hand out, as if holding an invisible note pad, and draws a tick across it with his index finger and thumb.
Prescott: Of course I can't forget the man from the future and his pet science project, Aaron Kizz and Prototype. Kizz, you may have some skills, winning that battle royal at the last Sentinel, but I'd take your scrap pile back to the workshop, to be honest. Losing your very first match is never a good sign. Speaking of, what about that Jack Severino? You've shown some impressive skills since you debuted and, if I'm to be honest, I think you've just had some bad luck. But I like your style, Severino. That backwater country you call a home on the other hand...
Declan smirks to himself and then shakes his hand.
Prescott: Moving on to the least hardcore man in GIW, Dylan James. A win over both members of Hiroshima proves you've got some skills, but the company you keep proves you're incredibly insecure about your own abilities. Aesc The Dark? Honestly, I'd laugh if I didn't pity you so much. That demented, sideshow circus freak will bring nothing, but misery down on your career. Just look at his if you don't believe me.
Declan bites down on his bottom lip, clearly showing mocking embarrassment. He clears his throat and continues speaking.
Prescott: While on the topic of wasted potential, I now have to address Jack Ryans. An up and down career you've had since arriving here, but, whether a fan or a detractor, no one can deny that your quest for 'justice' in this place has been a complete and utter train wreck of a disaster. You call me corrupt, unjust, vile, while I lie in a hospital bed, fighting for my life. You sicken me Jack Ryans. You presume to know that which you are entirely ignorant of. The only thing you know about me is that I'm more of an accomplished wrestler than you could ever hope to be. Beyond that, I am an enigma to you. Take your 'morality' and judgement someplace else.
Declan then examines his imaginary checklist once more and gasps in mock amazement.
Prescott: It seems I've reached the end of my list. Only one name left. The second ever GIW Hardcore Champion, Randy Boolzian! The tar smoking, caffeine chugging, inbred, likely illiterate, illegitimate child of Rita Sue and her second cousin, Billy Bob Junior. Wait... how foolish of me? I confused you with the latest waitress you banged over the deep fryer at the nearest Pig 'n' Muck roadhouse. Not that it's any of my concern how you spend your spare time. Just stay the hell away from me, while you do it.
Declan now raises his hands in surrender.
Prescott: No, no, no. I apologise, BoolZ. There really isn't any need for us to have any issues. After all, you did what I've been trying to do since March - take that Hardcore Championship from Austin! More to the point, you did it under the guise of being his ally!!
Prescott now bursts into a hysterical fit of laughter for several moments. He soon regains his composure, but is still smiling from ear-to-ear.
Prescott: It was beautiful. The way you set him up and knocked him down! Or perhaps, it was just some friendly competition. Maybe the downfall of Chris Austin was never your intention, simply an unavoidable side effect. I don't presume to know. What I do know is that your little boy squad is officially dead. You think Austin is going to be able to even be in the same room as you, let alone putting his trust in you after what you did to him?! OH, IT'S JUST ALL TOO MUCH!!!
Prescott now erupts into laughter once more and this time falls from his chair in the process. We can only hear his squeals of delight, as he rolls around the carpet in hysterics. After several, long moments, he climbs back into his chair, still chuckling to himself.
Declan: BoolZ, this little war you've been trying to wage against Global Domination?
The Significant Player now leans forward and presses his forehead onto the lens of the camera, so his breath fogs it as he speaks.
Declan: You just lost!
* * * * *
Declan waved his arm in the air, to signify to the cameraman that the promo was over. He then stood up from his feet and stared at the hairy, plump man operating the device. The GIW employee nodded eagerly, clearly indicating that the promo was of top quality. Declan mused whether the chubby man actually meant what his actions indicated, for the smallest fraction of an instant. He then spun on the sport and grinned at Cara, feeling his heart grow slightly heavier, as he was met with only a disapproving frown from the woman he loved.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said, before biting nervously on her bottom lip.
Declan tilted his head innocently, as if having no idea what she was speaking of.
"Don't do that!" she barked, more playfully, than angered.
She then couldn't help but grin, as Declan continued staring at her with his best puppy dog eyes working overtime. She then surrendered and giggled, before Declan took a step towards her, embraced her in his arms and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
"I'm serious though," she moaned. "Talking about GD like that? It's going to make them all really mad."
"Nonsense," Declan replied, already noticing the water swelling at the bottom of Cara's eyes. "I only said what they're all thinking. In terms of in-ring performance, the group was a disaster. They're a mess. They can't band together as one and they know it."
"Performance?" Cara inquired, as the two left the room, Declan with his arm around her shoulder and Cara with her arm around his lower back. "What else were they meant to do?"
"They were never meant to perform well," Declan retorted, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. To his pleasure, the corridor was completely deserted. "They only ever had one purpose and they played it perfectly."
"And what's that?" she asked, with genuine confusion.
Declan smiled, wrapped both his hands around her buttocks and pulled her off the floor, towards him. She squeaked in surprise, but then wrapped her arms around his neck and rested the side of her head on his shoulder.
"To keep you safe," he whispered, as he began strolling down the hallway, Cara's soft, fragile frame still in his arms.
"Me?!" she gasped, in total surprise. "But... you never told them that."
"And we won't."
"But if they find out..."
"They won't," Declan said, with total confidence. "Besides, it won't be much longer, anyway. Once I've secured the Global Championship, we'll have no further use for any of them."
"About that," Cara spoke, her voice shaking with insecurity. She was obviously less convinced on the matter, than Declan. "Do you really think Komosube will just let you beat him?"
"Yes."
"What if he doesn't?"
"Then he'll pay the price for his actions. Remember, Global Domination are still on our side."
"You talk like we're not even apart of the group!" Cara protested, miniscule trails of water now running down her cheeks.
"Because we're not," Declan responded. "Not really. They just have to think we are."
"If you get hurt again -"
"I won't!" Declan reassured her, taking a hand from her rear end and stroking her soft, golden hair with it. "I prom -"
Declan stopped mid-sentence, as Cara stared at him, her eyes narrowed with distain. Declan nodded in defeat.
"I won't get hurt," he said weakly.
"You better not!" she pouted, clearly growing very agitated. "But even if Komosube lets you pin him, who's to say you'll win the vote? The fans don't seem to like you very much. Especially after what you did to Brandon..."
"HA!" Declan laughed. "That doesn't matter!"
"What do you mean?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"Of all the guys who will make it to that vote," Declan spoke, unable to contain his enormous grin. "Who's the one man with unrestricted access to GIW.com, including fan interactive polls?"
"You are..."
"Yeah, I am," he said, winking. "And I can guarantee that no matter who the fans vote for, the result of that poll is going to be exactly the same."
"You're so naughty!" she squealed, seemingly overcome with delight. "And you're so smart!"
Declan pressed his lips to Cara's, who instantly pushed her face into his, as hard as she could. After several, intimate moments, Declan withdrew and took a deep breathe, feeling Cara's saliva on his lips cool, as the air touched it. He then smiled at seeing the door to his left.
"We're here," he said, although Cara seemed too busy running her tongue along his neck to take in any of his words.
He shrugged and pushed the door to his office at the GIW arena open with a single hand and stepped gracefully through the threshold. He was filled with both pride and comfort, to once again be in this room. Those feelings instantly vanished, however, replaced by a sinking feeling in his stomach, at the sight before him. A slick man in a navy blue suit, with greasy, slicked, black hair and a gun attached to his belt, was leaning on Declan's desk.
"Well good afternoon, Mr. Prescott," the man said, nodding slightly. "Name's Douglass Maguire. I'm a detective with the L.A.P.D. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."
