Post by Teo Blaze on Jul 14, 2019 22:01:54 GMT -5
The viewer is greeted by an unusual sight this week, as rather than a typical Action Wrestling star, a rather flustered looking young man is walking down a busy urban sidewalk, shuffling a stack of papers and photographs as he does so. His voice, a thin and reedy baritone if one had to describe it, is muttering absentmindedly as he walks directly forward, barely dodging foot traffic headed in the opposite direction. His mind and nose are buried in his work, and his brisk pace carries him along the busy street.
However, all at once, he stops dead in his tracks, so suddenly that the stack of papers seems to almost fly from his arms. With a look that is somehow both determined and curious, he stares to his right. There, beneath a green neon sign, is the entrance to a seedy looking dive, the kind of bar that one would see in a movie where Patrick Swayze is throwing someone through a plate glass window.
He looks nervously to his left and right, but seems to come to a decision, nodding to himself with a small “hmph” as he boldly steps in.
The difference between the bright suburban sidewalk and the bar is like night and day, almost literally. Despite the noonday sun shining brightly through the doorway, it may as well have been midnight for all of the light that was actually making it into the bar.
And there, near the back, among patrons who could be charitably described as “lumps growing out of barstools”, was the man he was looking for. One of Action Wrestling’s newest and arguably most popular faces...Teo Blaze.
As the young man approached him, he had to admit he was surprised, he had heard that Blaze was unpredictable, selfish, and would completely disregard any authority. That was why they had sent him after all.
But the man that he saw was none of those things, instead he approached a rather plain looking young man in a dark red T-shirt and blue jeans with black sneakers, leaning his red-lensed eyes over a drink and staring at a Television in the reflection.
The drink was arguably the most surprising, as instead of a tall glass of beer or perhaps a shot glass of whiskey, there is an ornate glass, not dissimilar to a milkshake glass, filled to the brim with neon blue liquid, with a neon green silly-straw sticking out of one side of the glass.
With a nervous yet still determined look, the young man reaches forward and taps Teo on the shoulder. Teo inhales sharply, as though he has just been awakened from a trance, and looks at the young man.
Assistant: Hello there, sir, I-
Teo Blaze: Look, I donate through the office. Talk to them there.
The young man is caught off-guard by the flippant remark, but continues undeterred.
Assistant: Ah, yes, they told me you were a funny one. I’m here on behalf of action wrestling to-
Teo Blaze: Look, if you’re here to take me to the studio again, I’d rather you just go back and tell them I jumped out of another limousine.
That presented a bit of a problem, as that was exactly what the young man had been tasked with doing. But, he was an industrious young man.
Assistant: About that. Action Wrestling has asked me to accompany you, yes, but unlike last week, they have an offer for you.
Blaze’s eyebrows shoot up as he considered the man’s words.
Teo Blaze: An offer?
Assistant: Yes, they’ve authorized me to approve any of your creative decisions, provided they are made within the Action Wrestling studio. Last week’s news broadcast, while inspiring, left Action Wrestling with some rather hefty legal fees...
Teo Blaze: Is that supposed to mean something to me?
The assistant looked rather dismayed at that comment, seeing the offer as rather generous.
Teo Blaze: Look, short stuff, I don’t mean to sound inconsiderate, but you approving what I want? That doesn’t mean shit. For all I know you’re going to hand me a script the moment this conversation is over.
Assistant: No, I-
Teo Blaze: Furthermore, Action Wrestling has made it clear that someone up there would rather I play by their rules, which frankly doesn’t sit right with me. I was brought in to shake things up, not to do what I am told.
Assistant: Look, can you just give me a chance? Here, I have your match this week-
As soon as he says the words, Teo’s hand shoots out and grabs the folder on top of the stack of papers. He begins shuffling through it, considering things carefully.
Teo Blaze: Nick Halden? The guy who shot his last promo at the airport? For a goddamned title match no less?
Look, I don’t want to be cruel, but I think I’ll be fine. This guy couldn’t talk his way out of a speeding ticket if he was riding a bicycle, and if, let me emphasize, if he manages to rub together two brain cells long enough to form a coherent thought, in the time it would take him to put that thought together, I’ll be able to kick the other guy’s ass, pin him, take a shower, drive to the hotel, and watch the godfather trilogy.
Assistant: Other girl.
Teo Blaze: Pardon?
Assistant: Your other opponent is Claire Hawkins.
Teo shuffles the papers furiously, looking with a furrowed brow. In the moment of peace, the assistant’s eyes wander to the strange looking drink on the counter.
Assistant: I have to ask, is that even alcoholic?
Teo does not answer, nor even look up from the folder. Instead he reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and removes a silver lighter, flipping it open and tossing it to his side, where it flies perfectly before landing in the drink.
The result is a loud popping noise and a sudden burst of flame. The various bar patrons all sit up at once.
Bartender: I warned you about that, Blaze!
Teo Blaze: Hey...he’s the one who asked.
Teo finally turns the folder to a page and places his fingers on his chin, pondering as he looks at the pages within.
Teo Blaze: Former Television champion, huh?
Assistant: Second longest reigning ever!
Teo Blaze: Hmm...you don’t say.
Blaze reaches into the folder, pulling out a DVD marked “Hawkins Promo” with black marker.
Teo Blaze: I’m borrowing this.
Assistant: Uh... but you can just look it up on the Network.
Teo Blaze: Oh no, not for that. Look, you want to get a promo filmed today? Halden is not my primary concern. Nice guy I’m sure, but unless he starts taking this seriously I might as well be wrestling a cardboard cutout, and even then I’d have to worry about a papercut.
Assistant: Wait, where are we going?
Teo steps off of the stool and begins walking towards the exit of the bar.
Teo Blaze: We’re going to go send a message to a witch.
Teo tosses a roll of dollar bills on the bar and leaves, his new “assistant” in tow behind him as he walks out into the sunlight.
As the scene slowly comes into view, what first strikes the viewer is the fact that the entire room is bathed in darkness. If not for the “Action Wrestling” logo at the bottom right of the screen, it would be entirely reasonable to assume the television screen was completely broken.
But though the room is by and large consumed by a veil of nothingness, it does not remain so for long. In the distance, a small white square of light suddenly flashes into existence, illuminating an otherwise completely empty room. The light is flickering, a completely alien and haunting image, but otherwise the only light source.
Yet as the viewer’s eyes adjust in the darkness, the brightness of the image becomes less overpowering, and the image becomes ever clearer, details emerging and becoming apparent the more time that passes. After a few tense moments, the light has all but faded and now the image itself is apparent. On a cracked and broken CRT television, placed on a flimsy wire stand, there is an image, an image of the once Television Champion Claire Hawkins, standing proudly over an oaken desk that she has moments ago ignited, a maniacal look over her face as she looks proudly at her handiwork, glaring over the flames.
The image stands, hauntingly, a ghostly apparition in a room that is otherwise devoid of anything. No furniture, no decoration, nothing but the flickering glow of flames from the old and cracked television.
And then.
A flash of orange light appears just above the television, sending out a haunting glow throughout the room, mingling with the white glow of the CRT screen. But the match does not exist in a void, for just beyond the flickering flame sits a familiar face, a face whose red-lensed eyes reflect the small flame, flashing between streaks of bright orange and red.
The face smiles, staring into the flame with a look of intense appreciation, like a proud parent considering his child. And then, a voice.
Teo Blaze: Claire Hawkins, you poor little thing. Didn’t anybody warn you what happens when you play with fire?
Blaze’s voice echoes through the empty room with an almost eerie calm, though the faintest trace of emotion can be felt, he speaks as though he is regarding someone for whom he has genuine sympathy.
Teo Blaze: Beautiful thing, isn’t it? Since time immemorial, man has dreamt of conquering it. A flame has potential to undo the work of countless generations in an instant, to wipe the slate completely clean. Some think of it as destructive force, something that consumes all around it until there is nothing left...and then?
As Blaze speaks, the flame upon the matchstick starts to waver, having burned away the majority of the chemicals along the end.
Teo Blaze: But I’ve always known the truth. Fire is a primal force, a deep and ancient entity that has existed long before the first man set foot upon this planet. It yearns. It hungers. But perhaps most importantly…
A blaze does not discriminate.
Woman, man, beast...a flame spares none that choose to cross its path.
It wipes away any foolish enough to grow close.
Teo’s face suddenly shifts, his head cocking oddly, unnaturally to the side as his face cracks, his mouth crookedly shifting into a twisted, uneven grin. His mouth shows the damage of countless battles, chipped and cracked ivory turning what would be a friendly expression into a demonic crescent of spikes.
Teo Blaze: I’ve heard you called “Witch”, Claire. Tell me, do you happen to recall what was done to witches?
Do you remember what role was played by the flame in that passion play?
It was judge, jury, and executioner for any who dared even show signs of witchcraft.
A cruel task, to be sure. Misguided, one might even say.
But a blaze does not discriminate.
It merely exists to consume.
As he speaks, Teo seems to consider the flickering match in his hand. By all logic it should have burned out long ago, but still it persists, clinging to the ever shrinking piece of wood clutched between his fingers, persistently burning.
Teo Blaze: I wonder, Claire, did you hope to burn away your past as Television Champion? By igniting that desk, were you symbolically cleansing yourself of a legacy?
But why do that? After all, your accomplishments are truly noteworthy. Nearly two months as Television Champion, multiple defenses, in fact, so many defenses that you were in fact the second-
On the word “second”, Teo pauses, as though a though has just hit him, but then the grin returns with the same twisted expression.
Teo Blaze: Ah, I think I have it.
That little dirty word that none of us wish to speak about, but drives us all the same. That little nagging voice in the back of our heads that time and again reminds us that we have mountains yet unscaled. That persistent partner who never lets us forget our failings and move on with our lives.
Ego, Claire Hawkins. Plain and simple.
I know that feeling, I would not call myself the King of All Media if I was not acutely aware of the effect that the Television Championship can have on you. When you hold it in your hand, you tell yourself unequivocally that even though you know the risks, even though you know that you have painted a target on your back so large that a blind man could see it from the space shuttle, that you will be the one. You will be the one to break all the records, to defy the odds, to hold that belt and take it to new heights, to be the name synonymous with the Television Championship!
As Teo’s voice reaches the crescendo, he throws back his head, letting out a torrent of laughter. The sound comes from deep inside him, cascading off of the walls of the empty room and bouncing back and forth off of itself.
Teo Blaze: Reality’s a bitch, bitch.
You may not even see it yourself yet, Claire Hawkins, but I know when I look into your eyes, when I see that expression on your face, that you have not yet come to terms with the fact that no matter how many people tell you how goddamned great it is to be second best, that at the end of the day you have to look at yourself, and no matter how hard you squint, no matter how hard you try to look away, you have to face the plain and simple truth that when you look into that reflection, that you are staring at a failure.
Teo stares directly into the camera, his eyes narrowing behind the lenses, his face falling almost completely still. Though his mouth moves, his stare does not waver from looking directly into the camera lens.
Teo Blaze: That, Claire Hawkins, is what you hoped to burn away last week, that is what you called upon the flames to cleanse. To wipe away the simple fact that you are nothing more than an asterisk on the Television Championship, a momentary blip on its radar that each and every moment grows fainter and fainter in the eyes of everyone watching at home. The answer to a trivia question that nobody will care enough to ask.
That legacy is what you have, Hawkins. Nothing more, nothing less.
But let me tell you a dirty little secret.
You didn’t use enough kerosene.
Though you doused that desk with enough fuel to light a bonfire, though you let its light dance across your demented face… it is not that easy.
You called upon flames to ignite your past, to give you a clean slate.
But you forgot something.
A blaze does not discriminate.
As Teo speaks, he lets go of the match, the small orange flame dropping from his fingers and landing just between the cracks on the plastic shell, dropping out of view for an instant.
And then, all at once, with a catastrophic sound, the screen seems to burst outward, the shell ruptures and with a titanic crash! The entire set explodes into a burst of flame, sending chunks of plastic and circuitry in every direction.
But the room is not consumed by darkness. The edges of the television stand remain, wreathed in fire and burning persistently, a ring of flame surrounding what remains of the twisted and broken CRT television.
Teo Blaze: If you wish to burn away your legacy, Claire, you need look no further.
For you have walked into a wildfire.
Claire, do you have any idea what primal force you have called on? What roaring blaze awaits you? You have invoked the most destructive force that has ever existed! You do not get to choose what is and is not destroyed when you strike that match!
I am going to walk into that ring on Clash, and I am going to let you feel exactly what it is to invoke the flames! Because there is something that you need to know about me that I don’t think you realized. Within me there is an inferno. A roaring, burning desire to consume, to destroy, to tear down everything I encounter, everything that I touch! When I lay my hands on an opponent there is a force within me crying out to be released, and once let loose, it does not stop!
It is all that I can do to keep that flame at bay, and here before me I see a witch asking to be burned.
Teo exhales, and as he speaks his next words, his voice is as cold as steel. But with each syllable, a deep and audible passion threatens to break through at any given instant.
Teo Blaze: You would burn down your past, Claire Hawkins? Well congratulations, because I am going to burn down your past, your present, and your fucking future.
Because a Blaze?
Teo’s mouth cracks into a grin.
Teo Blaze: Well, I think you know the rest by now. See you soon, Claire.
With that, Teo turns and walks away, his red jacket blowing behind him. The camera slowly pans downward to one shard of the screen, which despite the damage, miraculously, is still showing Claire Hawkins’s image.
But with a sudden burst of heat, it cracks, shattering as Teo exits the room.
However, all at once, he stops dead in his tracks, so suddenly that the stack of papers seems to almost fly from his arms. With a look that is somehow both determined and curious, he stares to his right. There, beneath a green neon sign, is the entrance to a seedy looking dive, the kind of bar that one would see in a movie where Patrick Swayze is throwing someone through a plate glass window.
He looks nervously to his left and right, but seems to come to a decision, nodding to himself with a small “hmph” as he boldly steps in.
The difference between the bright suburban sidewalk and the bar is like night and day, almost literally. Despite the noonday sun shining brightly through the doorway, it may as well have been midnight for all of the light that was actually making it into the bar.
And there, near the back, among patrons who could be charitably described as “lumps growing out of barstools”, was the man he was looking for. One of Action Wrestling’s newest and arguably most popular faces...Teo Blaze.
As the young man approached him, he had to admit he was surprised, he had heard that Blaze was unpredictable, selfish, and would completely disregard any authority. That was why they had sent him after all.
But the man that he saw was none of those things, instead he approached a rather plain looking young man in a dark red T-shirt and blue jeans with black sneakers, leaning his red-lensed eyes over a drink and staring at a Television in the reflection.
The drink was arguably the most surprising, as instead of a tall glass of beer or perhaps a shot glass of whiskey, there is an ornate glass, not dissimilar to a milkshake glass, filled to the brim with neon blue liquid, with a neon green silly-straw sticking out of one side of the glass.
With a nervous yet still determined look, the young man reaches forward and taps Teo on the shoulder. Teo inhales sharply, as though he has just been awakened from a trance, and looks at the young man.
Assistant: Hello there, sir, I-
Teo Blaze: Look, I donate through the office. Talk to them there.
The young man is caught off-guard by the flippant remark, but continues undeterred.
Assistant: Ah, yes, they told me you were a funny one. I’m here on behalf of action wrestling to-
Teo Blaze: Look, if you’re here to take me to the studio again, I’d rather you just go back and tell them I jumped out of another limousine.
That presented a bit of a problem, as that was exactly what the young man had been tasked with doing. But, he was an industrious young man.
Assistant: About that. Action Wrestling has asked me to accompany you, yes, but unlike last week, they have an offer for you.
Blaze’s eyebrows shoot up as he considered the man’s words.
Teo Blaze: An offer?
Assistant: Yes, they’ve authorized me to approve any of your creative decisions, provided they are made within the Action Wrestling studio. Last week’s news broadcast, while inspiring, left Action Wrestling with some rather hefty legal fees...
Teo Blaze: Is that supposed to mean something to me?
The assistant looked rather dismayed at that comment, seeing the offer as rather generous.
Teo Blaze: Look, short stuff, I don’t mean to sound inconsiderate, but you approving what I want? That doesn’t mean shit. For all I know you’re going to hand me a script the moment this conversation is over.
Assistant: No, I-
Teo Blaze: Furthermore, Action Wrestling has made it clear that someone up there would rather I play by their rules, which frankly doesn’t sit right with me. I was brought in to shake things up, not to do what I am told.
Assistant: Look, can you just give me a chance? Here, I have your match this week-
As soon as he says the words, Teo’s hand shoots out and grabs the folder on top of the stack of papers. He begins shuffling through it, considering things carefully.
Teo Blaze: Nick Halden? The guy who shot his last promo at the airport? For a goddamned title match no less?
Look, I don’t want to be cruel, but I think I’ll be fine. This guy couldn’t talk his way out of a speeding ticket if he was riding a bicycle, and if, let me emphasize, if he manages to rub together two brain cells long enough to form a coherent thought, in the time it would take him to put that thought together, I’ll be able to kick the other guy’s ass, pin him, take a shower, drive to the hotel, and watch the godfather trilogy.
Assistant: Other girl.
Teo Blaze: Pardon?
Assistant: Your other opponent is Claire Hawkins.
Teo shuffles the papers furiously, looking with a furrowed brow. In the moment of peace, the assistant’s eyes wander to the strange looking drink on the counter.
Assistant: I have to ask, is that even alcoholic?
Teo does not answer, nor even look up from the folder. Instead he reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and removes a silver lighter, flipping it open and tossing it to his side, where it flies perfectly before landing in the drink.
The result is a loud popping noise and a sudden burst of flame. The various bar patrons all sit up at once.
Bartender: I warned you about that, Blaze!
Teo Blaze: Hey...he’s the one who asked.
Teo finally turns the folder to a page and places his fingers on his chin, pondering as he looks at the pages within.
Teo Blaze: Former Television champion, huh?
Assistant: Second longest reigning ever!
Teo Blaze: Hmm...you don’t say.
Blaze reaches into the folder, pulling out a DVD marked “Hawkins Promo” with black marker.
Teo Blaze: I’m borrowing this.
Assistant: Uh... but you can just look it up on the Network.
Teo Blaze: Oh no, not for that. Look, you want to get a promo filmed today? Halden is not my primary concern. Nice guy I’m sure, but unless he starts taking this seriously I might as well be wrestling a cardboard cutout, and even then I’d have to worry about a papercut.
Assistant: Wait, where are we going?
Teo steps off of the stool and begins walking towards the exit of the bar.
Teo Blaze: We’re going to go send a message to a witch.
Teo tosses a roll of dollar bills on the bar and leaves, his new “assistant” in tow behind him as he walks out into the sunlight.
Action Wrestling Presents:
Playing With Fire
Playing With Fire
As the scene slowly comes into view, what first strikes the viewer is the fact that the entire room is bathed in darkness. If not for the “Action Wrestling” logo at the bottom right of the screen, it would be entirely reasonable to assume the television screen was completely broken.
But though the room is by and large consumed by a veil of nothingness, it does not remain so for long. In the distance, a small white square of light suddenly flashes into existence, illuminating an otherwise completely empty room. The light is flickering, a completely alien and haunting image, but otherwise the only light source.
Yet as the viewer’s eyes adjust in the darkness, the brightness of the image becomes less overpowering, and the image becomes ever clearer, details emerging and becoming apparent the more time that passes. After a few tense moments, the light has all but faded and now the image itself is apparent. On a cracked and broken CRT television, placed on a flimsy wire stand, there is an image, an image of the once Television Champion Claire Hawkins, standing proudly over an oaken desk that she has moments ago ignited, a maniacal look over her face as she looks proudly at her handiwork, glaring over the flames.
The image stands, hauntingly, a ghostly apparition in a room that is otherwise devoid of anything. No furniture, no decoration, nothing but the flickering glow of flames from the old and cracked television.
And then.
A flash of orange light appears just above the television, sending out a haunting glow throughout the room, mingling with the white glow of the CRT screen. But the match does not exist in a void, for just beyond the flickering flame sits a familiar face, a face whose red-lensed eyes reflect the small flame, flashing between streaks of bright orange and red.
The face smiles, staring into the flame with a look of intense appreciation, like a proud parent considering his child. And then, a voice.
Teo Blaze: Claire Hawkins, you poor little thing. Didn’t anybody warn you what happens when you play with fire?
Blaze’s voice echoes through the empty room with an almost eerie calm, though the faintest trace of emotion can be felt, he speaks as though he is regarding someone for whom he has genuine sympathy.
Teo Blaze: Beautiful thing, isn’t it? Since time immemorial, man has dreamt of conquering it. A flame has potential to undo the work of countless generations in an instant, to wipe the slate completely clean. Some think of it as destructive force, something that consumes all around it until there is nothing left...and then?
As Blaze speaks, the flame upon the matchstick starts to waver, having burned away the majority of the chemicals along the end.
Teo Blaze: But I’ve always known the truth. Fire is a primal force, a deep and ancient entity that has existed long before the first man set foot upon this planet. It yearns. It hungers. But perhaps most importantly…
A blaze does not discriminate.
Woman, man, beast...a flame spares none that choose to cross its path.
It wipes away any foolish enough to grow close.
Teo’s face suddenly shifts, his head cocking oddly, unnaturally to the side as his face cracks, his mouth crookedly shifting into a twisted, uneven grin. His mouth shows the damage of countless battles, chipped and cracked ivory turning what would be a friendly expression into a demonic crescent of spikes.
Teo Blaze: I’ve heard you called “Witch”, Claire. Tell me, do you happen to recall what was done to witches?
Do you remember what role was played by the flame in that passion play?
It was judge, jury, and executioner for any who dared even show signs of witchcraft.
A cruel task, to be sure. Misguided, one might even say.
But a blaze does not discriminate.
It merely exists to consume.
As he speaks, Teo seems to consider the flickering match in his hand. By all logic it should have burned out long ago, but still it persists, clinging to the ever shrinking piece of wood clutched between his fingers, persistently burning.
Teo Blaze: I wonder, Claire, did you hope to burn away your past as Television Champion? By igniting that desk, were you symbolically cleansing yourself of a legacy?
But why do that? After all, your accomplishments are truly noteworthy. Nearly two months as Television Champion, multiple defenses, in fact, so many defenses that you were in fact the second-
On the word “second”, Teo pauses, as though a though has just hit him, but then the grin returns with the same twisted expression.
Teo Blaze: Ah, I think I have it.
That little dirty word that none of us wish to speak about, but drives us all the same. That little nagging voice in the back of our heads that time and again reminds us that we have mountains yet unscaled. That persistent partner who never lets us forget our failings and move on with our lives.
Ego, Claire Hawkins. Plain and simple.
I know that feeling, I would not call myself the King of All Media if I was not acutely aware of the effect that the Television Championship can have on you. When you hold it in your hand, you tell yourself unequivocally that even though you know the risks, even though you know that you have painted a target on your back so large that a blind man could see it from the space shuttle, that you will be the one. You will be the one to break all the records, to defy the odds, to hold that belt and take it to new heights, to be the name synonymous with the Television Championship!
As Teo’s voice reaches the crescendo, he throws back his head, letting out a torrent of laughter. The sound comes from deep inside him, cascading off of the walls of the empty room and bouncing back and forth off of itself.
Teo Blaze: Reality’s a bitch, bitch.
You may not even see it yourself yet, Claire Hawkins, but I know when I look into your eyes, when I see that expression on your face, that you have not yet come to terms with the fact that no matter how many people tell you how goddamned great it is to be second best, that at the end of the day you have to look at yourself, and no matter how hard you squint, no matter how hard you try to look away, you have to face the plain and simple truth that when you look into that reflection, that you are staring at a failure.
Teo stares directly into the camera, his eyes narrowing behind the lenses, his face falling almost completely still. Though his mouth moves, his stare does not waver from looking directly into the camera lens.
Teo Blaze: That, Claire Hawkins, is what you hoped to burn away last week, that is what you called upon the flames to cleanse. To wipe away the simple fact that you are nothing more than an asterisk on the Television Championship, a momentary blip on its radar that each and every moment grows fainter and fainter in the eyes of everyone watching at home. The answer to a trivia question that nobody will care enough to ask.
That legacy is what you have, Hawkins. Nothing more, nothing less.
But let me tell you a dirty little secret.
You didn’t use enough kerosene.
Though you doused that desk with enough fuel to light a bonfire, though you let its light dance across your demented face… it is not that easy.
You called upon flames to ignite your past, to give you a clean slate.
But you forgot something.
A blaze does not discriminate.
As Teo speaks, he lets go of the match, the small orange flame dropping from his fingers and landing just between the cracks on the plastic shell, dropping out of view for an instant.
And then, all at once, with a catastrophic sound, the screen seems to burst outward, the shell ruptures and with a titanic crash! The entire set explodes into a burst of flame, sending chunks of plastic and circuitry in every direction.
But the room is not consumed by darkness. The edges of the television stand remain, wreathed in fire and burning persistently, a ring of flame surrounding what remains of the twisted and broken CRT television.
Teo Blaze: If you wish to burn away your legacy, Claire, you need look no further.
For you have walked into a wildfire.
Claire, do you have any idea what primal force you have called on? What roaring blaze awaits you? You have invoked the most destructive force that has ever existed! You do not get to choose what is and is not destroyed when you strike that match!
I am going to walk into that ring on Clash, and I am going to let you feel exactly what it is to invoke the flames! Because there is something that you need to know about me that I don’t think you realized. Within me there is an inferno. A roaring, burning desire to consume, to destroy, to tear down everything I encounter, everything that I touch! When I lay my hands on an opponent there is a force within me crying out to be released, and once let loose, it does not stop!
It is all that I can do to keep that flame at bay, and here before me I see a witch asking to be burned.
Teo exhales, and as he speaks his next words, his voice is as cold as steel. But with each syllable, a deep and audible passion threatens to break through at any given instant.
Teo Blaze: You would burn down your past, Claire Hawkins? Well congratulations, because I am going to burn down your past, your present, and your fucking future.
Because a Blaze?
Teo’s mouth cracks into a grin.
Teo Blaze: Well, I think you know the rest by now. See you soon, Claire.
With that, Teo turns and walks away, his red jacket blowing behind him. The camera slowly pans downward to one shard of the screen, which despite the damage, miraculously, is still showing Claire Hawkins’s image.
But with a sudden burst of heat, it cracks, shattering as Teo exits the room.