The Story of Fafnir's Gold
Oct 10, 2020 8:52:29 GMT -5
Odin Balfore, David Sanchez, and 9 more like this
Post by 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 on Oct 10, 2020 8:52:29 GMT -5
A cold night in a small village near a vast lake, below a tall cliff side. The moon casts its glow across the land, not a cloud in the sky blocking the light. The docks are barren, what few homes are built here are spread out yet seemingly all the townsfolk are gathered in a clearing by the water. Here, a roaring fire illuminates the surroundings even more. As waves crash ashore, the people huddle up with their long dresses, shawls, scarves and whatever else to keep them warmer. A figure stands out from the crowd, hooded with a tall staff. A long gray beard hangs off of his face. He reaches into the pocket of his attire and tosses some kind of powder into the flame - turning it a majestic purple color for a few seconds! The resonating glow from the fire gives everyone a royal hue for a few moments, garnering the attention of those in attendance. The old man stands in between the fire and the townsfolk, water behind the flames.
"Come closer everyone, it is time to celebrate Haustmánuður. Our harvest is finished, and we will ring in the winter months ahead with a tale as old as the dirt you stand on. The cursed gold of Andvari once rested in the very waters near this village. It became cursed because the dwarf king Hreidmar has demanded payment from Odin, Loki and Hoenir when one of his sons was slain by Loki while disguised as an otter to catch fish and feed his family. A penalty of Otr's weight in gold was decided upon, and Loki was to deliver it from his own vault. But being a trickster, swindler and thief, Loki had remembered a haul of jewels and gold at the bottom of this lake where Otr was killed. Loki attempted to seize the treasure only to be stopped by Andvari. Loki insisted he be able to take the gold from Andvari who eventually relented, but asked to keep a single ring. Loki refused, he was to take the entire hoard or Andvari's head. As he released the ring to the God, Andvari placed a curse upon the golden ring. A scribe he learned many moons before, which would bring destruction and misfortune to whomever wielded the jewelry.
Loki happily marched the treasure back to Hreidmar. It was already too late as Hreidmar bellowed out and proclaimed he would keep every piece of gold for himself, not giving any to his other two grieving children; Reign and Fafnir. Hreidmar became greedy beyond even the curse, taking all the possessions of his children and the entire village. Fafnir and Reign also became infected with the curse, they wanted all of their father's treasure. Within moments they hacked their father to pieces, Fafnir putting the cursed ring on and turning into a mighty dragon. Reign fled in terror. For the rest of his living days, Fafnir sat a caged beast. Caged in his own heart and soul to the gold that rested in this lake. Eventually a hero emerged from another village and rode to slay the great mongrel, but that is a story for another time."
The old man reaches into both pockets, launching a handful of dust from one and turning the fire purple, then the other to turn it a bright burning gold, and once again the first to produce the royal flame. The townsfolk kneel, facing toward the cliff side where a familiar castle rests. Up the winding path that leads from the village to the castle, a lone figure stands at a window facing the water, peering down to the village below. Corey Black sees the fire change colors, he grabs a short sword - almost machete-like in nature - from his wall and heads for his front door. There, waiting is a black stallion, kitted up with a black saddle, purple bridle and a purple headlight attached to its forehead. Corey mounts the horse and takes off down the path, the village inhabitants turn their eyes to the majestic creature galloping down the hillside. Corey reaches the village and the town all stand, he dismounts and takes a stance beside the old man.
"Now sit down, I want to have a fucking discussion.
For two decades I have battled with all my heart. Foul beings from all walks of life. Friends turned enemies, enemies turned friends. But this battle, an epic edda that will be written and sang about for the next ten thousand years - this may be the most important of them all. Long has the Man Evolved terrorized Action Wrestling and this Earthly plane. A prisoner of a ring around the neck, unleashed upon those looking to test their skill against the best in the world. Instead they are pitted against a soulless husk that only feeds on destruction and chaos.
I have felt the wrath of Walter before, as have my friends Frank and RJ. The Kaiju himself was dispatched in a most gruesome way, nearly snapped in half twice by Walter. It shouldn't have taken this long but there is a process to this. There's a code of conduct that not many even know about anymore but one that I will follow until my dying breath. A statement can be made without a match, but revenge? Revenge cannot be a blindside. Revenge cannot come and go like a midwinter's breeze. To truly garner revenge against Walter, it had to be a contest. I could have driven a truck into the cocksucker but really, what is that proving? His cause is simple, he wants to rid his sight of weakness. Weakness is coming up from behind and slitting a man's throat. Strength is standing up, nose to nose, equal footing.
Alexander Pasternak knew who he was choosing to fight Walter at Clash 100. Deserving, none more so than I. In my meetings with Walter, he has nearly tore my already damaged eye out, he has been shown that there are legions of people that will stand up to him in Chicago at XIII, and even though he outlasted us all in Havoc - I have the tools to end him. James Nightingale couldn't finish Walter even with a deck stacked in his favor so much he may as well have pulled a Royal Flush. But he didn't, he got a seven and a two, left Execution all but dead in the water.
You see, I possess the Burning Hammer which - via amplification of a steel chair - left Walter concussed and broken for over thirty minutes.
I only need three seconds to take Fafnir's Gold."
Corey thrusts his fist in the air as the townsfolk all scream out in unison; "PUT DOWN THE MONGREL!"
“And so here we are. After weeks and months of calling you out with cat and mouse games - security footage showed us exactly what we needed to know. Nikki Venus came to me with an injured leg, bruised skin and lacerated face. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. She wanted you to be the vessel of Death. It failed miserably. But once it did, she needed a host. She needed someone to put it in before it got too hungry. I was vulnerable. A good deed I thought could go overlooked came back to send doubt through me once again. The human race is filled with liars and cheats, but far more outstanding beings walk the planet. You look down on us as if we are primordial ooze at the bottom of the ocean and you’re some enhanced, enlightened enigma - you don’t harness evolution. Evolution isn’t an insatiable bloodlust. Man Evolved is twenty years at the top of the game with no end in sight. Man Evolved is three hundred and forty four days as a champion. You, Walter, are animalistic scum that belongs in a hole in the ground. Twelve feet deep because you don’t deserve the same treatment everyone else gets. A failed experiment. A walking force of destruction that has transgressed against the wrong fucking guy.
You will pay with pounds of flesh and gold, Walter. You’ve run through cockroaches and miscreants, you have driven your fingers into my skull and yet I called your name. Not for championships or clout, but for something you will never come to feel; remorse. I feel it every day knowing I got my student into the predicament he is in now. Not even your heir will truly derive remorse from your twisted view on reality, her purpose is just to be as sick and broken as you are. A monster, a deviant.. a fucking mongrel. A shunned being that will never know except the adoration and purpose of daddy beast because there is no way you reshape this world in your own image. Your Heir is destined to be rejected by society and surrounded by torches, pitchforks and whatever else the people of the world can get their hands on. You won’t see a day where you are content with your surroundings. Hell, I will make goddamn sure you don’t even make it to Tuesday.
They should have castrated you the moment they put The Leash on your neck, Walter. One of you is already too much for this world. You have always been devoid of morality. Whatever the reason you had to drive Collin’s into paralysis or mangle an admittedly devious woman, you only see people as insects and extermination is the only option. Who exterminates the exterminators? Who will... “
The townsfolk, all in unison once again.. “PUT DOWN THE MONGREL!”
“I get it though. You’ve had a loathsome experience with life as a whole. Until Action Wrestling you didn’t know release, you didn’t know love and you didn’t know the scope of your own demise. It’s almost comical how many people have come out and said they were going to put the stake in your heart and yet they all lacked the guts to actually do it. You overwhelmed them, they didn’t know what the fuck they were in for. They thought they did, but let’s not kid ourselves.. they had no idea.
Not a one of them was King.
They had the fifteen pounds of gold blinding their eye line. Swayed by the treasure.
Not me.
I don’t have that shit on my back anymore. I’m not weighed down by the perils of proving yourself. Walter, when you and I step into the ring at Clash 100 I want you to look into my eyes. I’ll gaze into the windows to your psyche and I’ll shatter both of them before you can even lift a fucking boot off the mat. You have never fought a son of a bitch like me. I won’t choke you. I won’t send electricity through your body. I will hoist your fucking carcass up onto my shoulders like I did at Havoc and send you to your paradise. Where you, Alyssa and your daughter can roam free forever in a field of daisies deep within the recess of your mind. While they sit at your bedside and tend to a comatose mongrel.”
The old man steps forward, reaching both hands into the sky.
“A hero rode from another village to slay Fafnir and take his gold. They say his weapon was forged and hardened through decades of battle. He was the mentor of the brother Fafnir nearly killed when unleashed and transformed into the dragon he would be slain as. The hero drove his blade deep into the belly of the beast, showering himself in his blood as it spilled onto the ground around him, nearly drowning him. He then took the treasure from the fallen mongrel, still cursed with misfortune.. but the hero was too strong. He needed not luck, but to rely on his skill and cunning to dispel whatever threat came his way.”
Corey thrusts his blade into the flame, quickly turning it a hue of orange. He pulls it back, the old man strikes it once with the powder from his pocket sending purple sparks off the machete to the delight of the people surrounding.
“When we last met, Walter, you viewed me as a relic from a time gone by. Nearly a year ago and I was already taking up space in a museum nobody wanted to visit, right? In that time I have survived. I have taken every word you spoke, as if you knew me, and spat on each one. You know not of the God you are to battle, Walter. You cannot speak on the words I have said before, you know not of the gravity. You scoffed at my upbringing and the choices I had to make as a child, you suggested my mother suffered homicide by my own hand, and you severely undercut my status as your fucking King. You spit at the name King of All Wrestlers or Man Made God.
Maybe you’re right, perhaps I am not worthy of the title of King or God.
Because I am above both.
You believe yourself to be Man Evolved and that’s just fucking peachy you big freak bitch. I've been evolving since 2000. Beyond any competitor ever seen before or seen since.
I’m God King Black.
Ready, able and foaming at the mouth to drive a knee into your nose and slam you across a barricade to you can feel what RJ felt. For him, for Frank, for every single person and wrestler that showed support in what was a failed movement before but..
I don’t fail, Walter. I don’t relent. Until my final breath escapes my body, you and I are destined to do this until the other is unable.
With all your gifts, both genetic and given by man, your hubris will be your downfall. You see a man of a bygone age with a bone to pick. What you truly must overcome is the greatest pound for pound combatant this sport has ever seen. A man that ruled a hardcore division for nearly a year. A man who has tag title reigns in two companies with two partners. And Walter.. your fucking doom. With or without the ancient curse of death.”
One of the townsfolk limps forward, it’s Nikki Venus. She has the book and the dagger. Corey takes them, slicing a small cut above his brow and drenching his thumb in the life giving essence. He presses it upon a page already marked, flipping to one anew. Corey closes his eyes and drops to a knee, suppressing the ritual and not allowing it to break him. Soon he recovers, standing back up. He puts the dagger to Nikki’s head and pauses. They lock eyes, tearful she nods. Corey runs the blade horizontally across her head and collects her blood, hovering over the empty slot in the book. He looks to the old man who nods, then to Nikki who is full on weeping. She grasps Corey’s wrist and slams his thumb onto the page, completing the transfer.
Her mouth opens agape. Eyes wide, tears turning from clear to blood red. Some of the townsfolk rush to her aid and whisk Nikki off to a presumably safe space. The book falls out of Corey’s hands, the old man scoops it up quickly and shuffles it off. All the townspeople slowly spread out and head back into their homes leaving Corey Black alone, still bleeding from the wound on his head. The once roaring fire dies off quickly, the scene quickly becoming a desolate, bleak moment of solitude. Corey hasn’t even really moved, he’s processing all the happenings around him. Finally snapping out of it, Black marches toward the church in town where the old man is securing the book in a gold case. He looks toward Corey, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“This was the right thing to do. You cannot use that monster to break the mongrel. Nikki got what she wanted all along, it will thrive as she is now the host and she will be looked after well here.”
Corey nods, accepting that what was done had to be. A chapter closed just in time for another to open. It is there, in that church where the key to Creeping Death shall remain. The catalyst for everything. Satisfied, Corey nods toward the old man and heads out of the church into the cold night. The moon’s glow seems brighter than usual. Corey’s horse walks up, he hops up and takes off for his castle up the winding path from the village. He arrives in no time, entering the front door after raising the downed drawbridge. It’s darker inside than out, A voice from the darkness, soft and delicate.
“So it’s done then?”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll ever have to deal with that again. I hope, anyway. It seems to be in good hands.”
"Everyone I talked to down there was adamant that they be the keepers, it is said to originate here. But it's done, that doesn't matter right now, all that matters is..."
A beat in the darkness.
"IF YA LIKE PINA COLADAS!"
The song 'Escape' by Rupert Holmes rings out throughout Corey's castle as the lights come on, his living room has been transformed into a party! Snacks on a table, Diet Coke fridge wheeled out and stocked full, a running pina colada fountain and his friends FPV and Kaiju Collins standing by. Of course, that tall blonde too. She smiles wide.
"Surprise! You've been hanging out underground and here and the Dojo so much I thought you needed a bit of a reprieve."
At first Corey is annoyed, his face shows near anger but it slowly melts away.
"Maybe we could have saved the surprise party for after Clash 100 but... thanks."
Corey walks over and tosses an arm around the tall blonde before leading her over to his injured comrades. A toast of Diet Coke commences.
"Come closer everyone, it is time to celebrate Haustmánuður. Our harvest is finished, and we will ring in the winter months ahead with a tale as old as the dirt you stand on. The cursed gold of Andvari once rested in the very waters near this village. It became cursed because the dwarf king Hreidmar has demanded payment from Odin, Loki and Hoenir when one of his sons was slain by Loki while disguised as an otter to catch fish and feed his family. A penalty of Otr's weight in gold was decided upon, and Loki was to deliver it from his own vault. But being a trickster, swindler and thief, Loki had remembered a haul of jewels and gold at the bottom of this lake where Otr was killed. Loki attempted to seize the treasure only to be stopped by Andvari. Loki insisted he be able to take the gold from Andvari who eventually relented, but asked to keep a single ring. Loki refused, he was to take the entire hoard or Andvari's head. As he released the ring to the God, Andvari placed a curse upon the golden ring. A scribe he learned many moons before, which would bring destruction and misfortune to whomever wielded the jewelry.
Loki happily marched the treasure back to Hreidmar. It was already too late as Hreidmar bellowed out and proclaimed he would keep every piece of gold for himself, not giving any to his other two grieving children; Reign and Fafnir. Hreidmar became greedy beyond even the curse, taking all the possessions of his children and the entire village. Fafnir and Reign also became infected with the curse, they wanted all of their father's treasure. Within moments they hacked their father to pieces, Fafnir putting the cursed ring on and turning into a mighty dragon. Reign fled in terror. For the rest of his living days, Fafnir sat a caged beast. Caged in his own heart and soul to the gold that rested in this lake. Eventually a hero emerged from another village and rode to slay the great mongrel, but that is a story for another time."
The old man reaches into both pockets, launching a handful of dust from one and turning the fire purple, then the other to turn it a bright burning gold, and once again the first to produce the royal flame. The townsfolk kneel, facing toward the cliff side where a familiar castle rests. Up the winding path that leads from the village to the castle, a lone figure stands at a window facing the water, peering down to the village below. Corey Black sees the fire change colors, he grabs a short sword - almost machete-like in nature - from his wall and heads for his front door. There, waiting is a black stallion, kitted up with a black saddle, purple bridle and a purple headlight attached to its forehead. Corey mounts the horse and takes off down the path, the village inhabitants turn their eyes to the majestic creature galloping down the hillside. Corey reaches the village and the town all stand, he dismounts and takes a stance beside the old man.
"Now sit down, I want to have a fucking discussion.
For two decades I have battled with all my heart. Foul beings from all walks of life. Friends turned enemies, enemies turned friends. But this battle, an epic edda that will be written and sang about for the next ten thousand years - this may be the most important of them all. Long has the Man Evolved terrorized Action Wrestling and this Earthly plane. A prisoner of a ring around the neck, unleashed upon those looking to test their skill against the best in the world. Instead they are pitted against a soulless husk that only feeds on destruction and chaos.
I have felt the wrath of Walter before, as have my friends Frank and RJ. The Kaiju himself was dispatched in a most gruesome way, nearly snapped in half twice by Walter. It shouldn't have taken this long but there is a process to this. There's a code of conduct that not many even know about anymore but one that I will follow until my dying breath. A statement can be made without a match, but revenge? Revenge cannot be a blindside. Revenge cannot come and go like a midwinter's breeze. To truly garner revenge against Walter, it had to be a contest. I could have driven a truck into the cocksucker but really, what is that proving? His cause is simple, he wants to rid his sight of weakness. Weakness is coming up from behind and slitting a man's throat. Strength is standing up, nose to nose, equal footing.
Alexander Pasternak knew who he was choosing to fight Walter at Clash 100. Deserving, none more so than I. In my meetings with Walter, he has nearly tore my already damaged eye out, he has been shown that there are legions of people that will stand up to him in Chicago at XIII, and even though he outlasted us all in Havoc - I have the tools to end him. James Nightingale couldn't finish Walter even with a deck stacked in his favor so much he may as well have pulled a Royal Flush. But he didn't, he got a seven and a two, left Execution all but dead in the water.
You see, I possess the Burning Hammer which - via amplification of a steel chair - left Walter concussed and broken for over thirty minutes.
I only need three seconds to take Fafnir's Gold."
Corey thrusts his fist in the air as the townsfolk all scream out in unison; "PUT DOWN THE MONGREL!"
“And so here we are. After weeks and months of calling you out with cat and mouse games - security footage showed us exactly what we needed to know. Nikki Venus came to me with an injured leg, bruised skin and lacerated face. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. She wanted you to be the vessel of Death. It failed miserably. But once it did, she needed a host. She needed someone to put it in before it got too hungry. I was vulnerable. A good deed I thought could go overlooked came back to send doubt through me once again. The human race is filled with liars and cheats, but far more outstanding beings walk the planet. You look down on us as if we are primordial ooze at the bottom of the ocean and you’re some enhanced, enlightened enigma - you don’t harness evolution. Evolution isn’t an insatiable bloodlust. Man Evolved is twenty years at the top of the game with no end in sight. Man Evolved is three hundred and forty four days as a champion. You, Walter, are animalistic scum that belongs in a hole in the ground. Twelve feet deep because you don’t deserve the same treatment everyone else gets. A failed experiment. A walking force of destruction that has transgressed against the wrong fucking guy.
You will pay with pounds of flesh and gold, Walter. You’ve run through cockroaches and miscreants, you have driven your fingers into my skull and yet I called your name. Not for championships or clout, but for something you will never come to feel; remorse. I feel it every day knowing I got my student into the predicament he is in now. Not even your heir will truly derive remorse from your twisted view on reality, her purpose is just to be as sick and broken as you are. A monster, a deviant.. a fucking mongrel. A shunned being that will never know except the adoration and purpose of daddy beast because there is no way you reshape this world in your own image. Your Heir is destined to be rejected by society and surrounded by torches, pitchforks and whatever else the people of the world can get their hands on. You won’t see a day where you are content with your surroundings. Hell, I will make goddamn sure you don’t even make it to Tuesday.
They should have castrated you the moment they put The Leash on your neck, Walter. One of you is already too much for this world. You have always been devoid of morality. Whatever the reason you had to drive Collin’s into paralysis or mangle an admittedly devious woman, you only see people as insects and extermination is the only option. Who exterminates the exterminators? Who will... “
The townsfolk, all in unison once again.. “PUT DOWN THE MONGREL!”
“I get it though. You’ve had a loathsome experience with life as a whole. Until Action Wrestling you didn’t know release, you didn’t know love and you didn’t know the scope of your own demise. It’s almost comical how many people have come out and said they were going to put the stake in your heart and yet they all lacked the guts to actually do it. You overwhelmed them, they didn’t know what the fuck they were in for. They thought they did, but let’s not kid ourselves.. they had no idea.
Not a one of them was King.
They had the fifteen pounds of gold blinding their eye line. Swayed by the treasure.
Not me.
I don’t have that shit on my back anymore. I’m not weighed down by the perils of proving yourself. Walter, when you and I step into the ring at Clash 100 I want you to look into my eyes. I’ll gaze into the windows to your psyche and I’ll shatter both of them before you can even lift a fucking boot off the mat. You have never fought a son of a bitch like me. I won’t choke you. I won’t send electricity through your body. I will hoist your fucking carcass up onto my shoulders like I did at Havoc and send you to your paradise. Where you, Alyssa and your daughter can roam free forever in a field of daisies deep within the recess of your mind. While they sit at your bedside and tend to a comatose mongrel.”
The old man steps forward, reaching both hands into the sky.
“A hero rode from another village to slay Fafnir and take his gold. They say his weapon was forged and hardened through decades of battle. He was the mentor of the brother Fafnir nearly killed when unleashed and transformed into the dragon he would be slain as. The hero drove his blade deep into the belly of the beast, showering himself in his blood as it spilled onto the ground around him, nearly drowning him. He then took the treasure from the fallen mongrel, still cursed with misfortune.. but the hero was too strong. He needed not luck, but to rely on his skill and cunning to dispel whatever threat came his way.”
Corey thrusts his blade into the flame, quickly turning it a hue of orange. He pulls it back, the old man strikes it once with the powder from his pocket sending purple sparks off the machete to the delight of the people surrounding.
“When we last met, Walter, you viewed me as a relic from a time gone by. Nearly a year ago and I was already taking up space in a museum nobody wanted to visit, right? In that time I have survived. I have taken every word you spoke, as if you knew me, and spat on each one. You know not of the God you are to battle, Walter. You cannot speak on the words I have said before, you know not of the gravity. You scoffed at my upbringing and the choices I had to make as a child, you suggested my mother suffered homicide by my own hand, and you severely undercut my status as your fucking King. You spit at the name King of All Wrestlers or Man Made God.
Maybe you’re right, perhaps I am not worthy of the title of King or God.
Because I am above both.
You believe yourself to be Man Evolved and that’s just fucking peachy you big freak bitch. I've been evolving since 2000. Beyond any competitor ever seen before or seen since.
I’m God King Black.
Ready, able and foaming at the mouth to drive a knee into your nose and slam you across a barricade to you can feel what RJ felt. For him, for Frank, for every single person and wrestler that showed support in what was a failed movement before but..
I don’t fail, Walter. I don’t relent. Until my final breath escapes my body, you and I are destined to do this until the other is unable.
With all your gifts, both genetic and given by man, your hubris will be your downfall. You see a man of a bygone age with a bone to pick. What you truly must overcome is the greatest pound for pound combatant this sport has ever seen. A man that ruled a hardcore division for nearly a year. A man who has tag title reigns in two companies with two partners. And Walter.. your fucking doom. With or without the ancient curse of death.”
One of the townsfolk limps forward, it’s Nikki Venus. She has the book and the dagger. Corey takes them, slicing a small cut above his brow and drenching his thumb in the life giving essence. He presses it upon a page already marked, flipping to one anew. Corey closes his eyes and drops to a knee, suppressing the ritual and not allowing it to break him. Soon he recovers, standing back up. He puts the dagger to Nikki’s head and pauses. They lock eyes, tearful she nods. Corey runs the blade horizontally across her head and collects her blood, hovering over the empty slot in the book. He looks to the old man who nods, then to Nikki who is full on weeping. She grasps Corey’s wrist and slams his thumb onto the page, completing the transfer.
Her mouth opens agape. Eyes wide, tears turning from clear to blood red. Some of the townsfolk rush to her aid and whisk Nikki off to a presumably safe space. The book falls out of Corey’s hands, the old man scoops it up quickly and shuffles it off. All the townspeople slowly spread out and head back into their homes leaving Corey Black alone, still bleeding from the wound on his head. The once roaring fire dies off quickly, the scene quickly becoming a desolate, bleak moment of solitude. Corey hasn’t even really moved, he’s processing all the happenings around him. Finally snapping out of it, Black marches toward the church in town where the old man is securing the book in a gold case. He looks toward Corey, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“This was the right thing to do. You cannot use that monster to break the mongrel. Nikki got what she wanted all along, it will thrive as she is now the host and she will be looked after well here.”
Corey nods, accepting that what was done had to be. A chapter closed just in time for another to open. It is there, in that church where the key to Creeping Death shall remain. The catalyst for everything. Satisfied, Corey nods toward the old man and heads out of the church into the cold night. The moon’s glow seems brighter than usual. Corey’s horse walks up, he hops up and takes off for his castle up the winding path from the village. He arrives in no time, entering the front door after raising the downed drawbridge. It’s darker inside than out, A voice from the darkness, soft and delicate.
“So it’s done then?”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll ever have to deal with that again. I hope, anyway. It seems to be in good hands.”
"Everyone I talked to down there was adamant that they be the keepers, it is said to originate here. But it's done, that doesn't matter right now, all that matters is..."
A beat in the darkness.
"IF YA LIKE PINA COLADAS!"
The song 'Escape' by Rupert Holmes rings out throughout Corey's castle as the lights come on, his living room has been transformed into a party! Snacks on a table, Diet Coke fridge wheeled out and stocked full, a running pina colada fountain and his friends FPV and Kaiju Collins standing by. Of course, that tall blonde too. She smiles wide.
"Surprise! You've been hanging out underground and here and the Dojo so much I thought you needed a bit of a reprieve."
At first Corey is annoyed, his face shows near anger but it slowly melts away.
"Maybe we could have saved the surprise party for after Clash 100 but... thanks."
Corey walks over and tosses an arm around the tall blonde before leading her over to his injured comrades. A toast of Diet Coke commences.