Post by Claire Hawkins on Mar 26, 2022 22:24:52 GMT -5
"You're going to fucking die, Roman......"
"...and it shall be so very delightful."
With the violent sound of feather rustling and frantic cries of the murder taking flight, the camera faded into the grisly scene of a body-strewn battlefield as old as the very atrocity itself. Yet, the bodies held no discernible features as each was nothing more than a silhouette of a life that once was; phantom crows feasting. Even so, the one thing that stood out the most amongst the scene of gore was nothing more than that of a silhouette of a woman standing alone; blade in hand and eyes aglow a wispy red.
"With a defeat as element and undeniable your pridefully misguided life draws to a close, and the wicked price you have accrued shall be paid in full. Drastic and excessive for some, the folly you have made has earned a punishment most bloody and inescapable. Roman Gunn; your flesh shall be stripped away and a feast for the murder of the vengeful shall be had upon the tender meat of your ineptitude shall be had. Then, once you're finally picked clean and pure, the marrow from your bones shall be drained; tarred; feathered, and sent to the Action Wrestling headquarters as a stark warning never to hire such an everlasting chicken shit ever again."
"As for the wretched and tainted soul that meat sack once held."
"Well, we can consider that a gift for Raging Dead in commemoration of his Hall of Fame induction."
"A beautiful end for the undeserving and desperate."
Eyes glowing bright, the silhouette pointed the tip of her blade towards the camera. Then with as much fervor as when the scene began, the numerous phantom birds took to the air; blacking out the screen. When things had settled a scene worthwhile returned to the screen once more. This time, it was that of the former CBS Champion standing alone within the center of a wrestling ring; staring down at hands she held palm upwards.
"Did you hear it, Roman?"
"The call?"
"You should listen to it because what I'm going to do to in the ring on Monday Night Clash is going to be the only mercy that you're ever going to experience. Pasternak might be under the impression that me putting you in your place once more might be a fitting punishment for the theft of the CBS Championship, but I do not; not by any stretch. No. See, Roman, you did more than simply steal away a victory that was MINE; more than steal away a championship that you never had the right to hold."
"You stole away the ideal that I had worked so damn hard to instill into the Television Championship prior to two middle-age mongrels destroying it in a vain attempt to regain their former glories."
"You stole away the fire of nearly limitless opportunity and you're going to pay."
"Oh, you're going to FUCKING pay."
Balling her hands into fists, it was clear that the anger that Action Wrestling's Witch felt was something more than something kindled by a simple loss; in fact, she confessed it so. As odd as it was. Nonetheless, she kept that haunting crimson gaze pointed downward as raw emotion reverberated through her speech.
"Roman, this Monday Night Clash I'm coming to Grand Forks with a vengeance never yet seen in either North Dakota or Action Wrestling. When you step into that ring and the bell rings you shall quickly find out that the level of competition you failed to live up to at Battlefield is NOTHING compared to what I'm going to bring. For, in their grand arrogance, many people have a tendency to forget that I'm one of the most adept wrestlers in the entire God damn company. They choose to hide behind paltry failures in an attempt to both secure their insecurities as well as hold me below the surface of anything meaningful in their eyes; sometimes quite literally. So, Roman, I'm going to do exactly what it is more of them fear with such pronounced ferocity."
Shifting her gaze for the first time, the pure fire of determination and resolution burned brightly as her pale features twisted into a volatile sneer.
"I'm putting you in your fucking place."
"So continue to puff out your breast with the wavering confidence you hide behind this asinine overconfidence that everyone can see through; continue acting like you're something that you shall NEVER big and find out firsthand what it's like to be wholly embarrassed. Yet, in order to do so, I'm going to have to forever wound your precious pride by completely and utterly outclassing you in a manner that will forever give Ryan Lockheart's trouncing of Casey Holiday and Jaice Wilde a run for their money. This is EXACTLY what I'm going to be do; there won't be any escape nor reprieve from the price I'm coming to collect from you.
"I'm going to BEAT you."
"I'm going to STRETCH you."
"I'm going to EXTRACT a pound of flesh for everyone that refuses to acknowledge you and twice as much for those inept fools that do."
"Your end is near, Roman, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of it. The pain that your futile struggle will bring; the bittersweetness of ending your miserable existence in a fucking non-title match. I couldn't care less about Pasternak's final remaining spot in the Havoc rumble nor should you; you should simply be focused on surviving that sheer hell I'm going to put you through in that ring. You're going to suffer and, as I have already said, I'm going to enjoy and savor every moment of it; something that I cannot stress enough. So prepare yourself, Roman; prepare yourself and know that the end is far closer than you might hope."
Violently and abruptly leaning back, Claire let loose that Banshees' wail as the scene faded.
"Heed an glaoch agus tá a fhios do deireadh."
"...and it shall be so very delightful."
With the violent sound of feather rustling and frantic cries of the murder taking flight, the camera faded into the grisly scene of a body-strewn battlefield as old as the very atrocity itself. Yet, the bodies held no discernible features as each was nothing more than a silhouette of a life that once was; phantom crows feasting. Even so, the one thing that stood out the most amongst the scene of gore was nothing more than that of a silhouette of a woman standing alone; blade in hand and eyes aglow a wispy red.
"With a defeat as element and undeniable your pridefully misguided life draws to a close, and the wicked price you have accrued shall be paid in full. Drastic and excessive for some, the folly you have made has earned a punishment most bloody and inescapable. Roman Gunn; your flesh shall be stripped away and a feast for the murder of the vengeful shall be had upon the tender meat of your ineptitude shall be had. Then, once you're finally picked clean and pure, the marrow from your bones shall be drained; tarred; feathered, and sent to the Action Wrestling headquarters as a stark warning never to hire such an everlasting chicken shit ever again."
"As for the wretched and tainted soul that meat sack once held."
"Well, we can consider that a gift for Raging Dead in commemoration of his Hall of Fame induction."
"A beautiful end for the undeserving and desperate."
Eyes glowing bright, the silhouette pointed the tip of her blade towards the camera. Then with as much fervor as when the scene began, the numerous phantom birds took to the air; blacking out the screen. When things had settled a scene worthwhile returned to the screen once more. This time, it was that of the former CBS Champion standing alone within the center of a wrestling ring; staring down at hands she held palm upwards.
"Did you hear it, Roman?"
"The call?"
"You should listen to it because what I'm going to do to in the ring on Monday Night Clash is going to be the only mercy that you're ever going to experience. Pasternak might be under the impression that me putting you in your place once more might be a fitting punishment for the theft of the CBS Championship, but I do not; not by any stretch. No. See, Roman, you did more than simply steal away a victory that was MINE; more than steal away a championship that you never had the right to hold."
"You stole away the ideal that I had worked so damn hard to instill into the Television Championship prior to two middle-age mongrels destroying it in a vain attempt to regain their former glories."
"You stole away the fire of nearly limitless opportunity and you're going to pay."
"Oh, you're going to FUCKING pay."
Balling her hands into fists, it was clear that the anger that Action Wrestling's Witch felt was something more than something kindled by a simple loss; in fact, she confessed it so. As odd as it was. Nonetheless, she kept that haunting crimson gaze pointed downward as raw emotion reverberated through her speech.
"Roman, this Monday Night Clash I'm coming to Grand Forks with a vengeance never yet seen in either North Dakota or Action Wrestling. When you step into that ring and the bell rings you shall quickly find out that the level of competition you failed to live up to at Battlefield is NOTHING compared to what I'm going to bring. For, in their grand arrogance, many people have a tendency to forget that I'm one of the most adept wrestlers in the entire God damn company. They choose to hide behind paltry failures in an attempt to both secure their insecurities as well as hold me below the surface of anything meaningful in their eyes; sometimes quite literally. So, Roman, I'm going to do exactly what it is more of them fear with such pronounced ferocity."
Shifting her gaze for the first time, the pure fire of determination and resolution burned brightly as her pale features twisted into a volatile sneer.
"I'm putting you in your fucking place."
"So continue to puff out your breast with the wavering confidence you hide behind this asinine overconfidence that everyone can see through; continue acting like you're something that you shall NEVER big and find out firsthand what it's like to be wholly embarrassed. Yet, in order to do so, I'm going to have to forever wound your precious pride by completely and utterly outclassing you in a manner that will forever give Ryan Lockheart's trouncing of Casey Holiday and Jaice Wilde a run for their money. This is EXACTLY what I'm going to be do; there won't be any escape nor reprieve from the price I'm coming to collect from you.
"I'm going to BEAT you."
"I'm going to STRETCH you."
"I'm going to EXTRACT a pound of flesh for everyone that refuses to acknowledge you and twice as much for those inept fools that do."
"Your end is near, Roman, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of it. The pain that your futile struggle will bring; the bittersweetness of ending your miserable existence in a fucking non-title match. I couldn't care less about Pasternak's final remaining spot in the Havoc rumble nor should you; you should simply be focused on surviving that sheer hell I'm going to put you through in that ring. You're going to suffer and, as I have already said, I'm going to enjoy and savor every moment of it; something that I cannot stress enough. So prepare yourself, Roman; prepare yourself and know that the end is far closer than you might hope."
Violently and abruptly leaning back, Claire let loose that Banshees' wail as the scene faded.
"Heed an glaoch agus tá a fhios do deireadh."