The Rebirth......
The one thing to be said about monsters is that you should never try to control them no matter how good an idea it may seem at first. That’s a mistake many would make, offering to take hold of an uncontrollable, raging beast and try to tame it to suit their own needs, use it to get back at those who wronged them in the past from high school bullies to the aggravating work colleague who just won’t shut up about their latest drunken one night stand or how much money they earn. Oh to get a measure of revenge on those people by conjuring up something that will penetrate their fears and nightmares, give them the fright of their lives as some sort of twisted and sick game of follow the leader.
Dr Frankenstein famously created a monster and when he let it loose upon the world, the monster killed him and destroyed everything in its path, no purpose or direction other than to kill and injure and destroy as much as possible, no thoughts or conscience to allow it the pleasure of deciding when enough is enough or even to go against orders and refuse to hurt anybody from the get-go. People just never learn though, watching people do what’s wrong and then following in the footsteps of failure and repeating those mistakes, forever trapping society in a pitfall that is inescapable.
One such failure was perpetuated by a blonde woman, the typical girl next door type who had somehow felt wronged and cheated by life and wished to get her own back on those who made her feel bad by summoning evil incarnate to do her absolute bidding forever without first realizing the consequences of such actions. The best revenge as any sane person knows is to move on, put an incident behind you and forget it rather than dwell on the past and let the bullies and the imbeciles win by knowing you still have that issue weigh heavy on your mind.
Then again, who is to say who is really sane and who is insane? The two states of mind are so vague, so opaque in their quality that any single person could cross the lines, blur them and slip into one or the other without realizing or knowing. Could Michelle be seen as a sane mind for plotting the unleashing upon her wrongdoers or was she insane for actually going through with it and bringing upon the unsuspecting earth something which she would be later unable to keep under her spell? The question didn’t seem so simple to decipher upon deep thought and perspective on the issue to even an observer so how would Michelle know? How was she to know that her fate would rest entirely upon the whims and desires of the very thing she attempted to control?
Michelle had sat back, staring at the creature she had summoned, watching as it stood completely and perfectly still and silent before her. Its feet were adorned by boots that looked to be army surplus style, much of its body hidden by black coveralls while on its head was long dark hair, soaking wet and draped either side of a solid steel mask that looked nightmarish, evil and aggressive. Blue eyes stared from beyond the mask, the only features that could be seen on the face of this beast, slowly tilting its head towards it shoulder to survey Michelle with a look of curiosity at what she might wish with it, what she might try to have it do for her.
The blonde rose to her feet, standing completely still for a few moments and wondering what this thing might do and then felt brave enough to approach it, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the face of this evil creature in case of attack. Luckily for her, it didn’t strike out or even move an inch, just observing this petite blonde woman as she moved even closer.
Michelle: You’re Vitriol, right?
She watched as it stared at her then gently nodded in response. Grinning broadly, Michelle felt relieved that the spell she’d used had worked and brought this thing here to her, planning her next move and trying to decide ahead of time what she’d try to achieve with the help of this monstrous entity. With an idea forming in her mind already, she looked up at the cold steel mask again.
Michelle: I want to be a part of the professional wrestling world, known as one of the greatest managers of all time plus see if I can get myself a Playboy shoot and I can’t do that without the help of something I know will lead me to the top and help me achieve my goals. Other people, they might let me down and want to do things for themselves, leave the path I want to set for us both. But we need an opponent, someone to target first and make a statement…..
Michelle lost herself in thought, wondering exactly what she could do to make such a huge statement upon their debut until the flash of inspiration she was seeking, coming to her almost like an atomic bomb, bringing another smile to her face as she made eye contact with Vitriol again, neither breaking it for a second.
Michelle: You’re said to be the embodiment of all that is evil and dark and there’s someone in MCW that’s made that claim for years, someone who could be dropped down a peg or two by the likes of you. Yeah....Vitriol taking Priest out of the equation, the first step to my rise to power. All you need to do is follow my lead and win matches. You got that?
Vitriol could do nothing but nod his reply, still remaining silent with thoughts running through his own head, the desire to run rampant but feeling that this woman was a little too needy for her own causes and not looking at the wider picture. After all, why summon him if he could not be truly unleashed to do what he did best, cause destruction? This blonde seemed to be focused on her own agenda too much to care about others. Who really cared if she wanted to appear in Playboy whatever that was or that she wanted to be known as one of the greatest managers of all time? The only thing he wanted was to cause as much anarchy and chaos as possible, if bodies had to be strewn along the way then so be it.
That was the start of the relationship between Vitriol and Michelle Richards and even from the very beginning of this partnership, it was all about Michelle’s needs, Michelle’s desires, “what Michelle wants, Michelle gets”. It would be sickening to others and they’d have most likely left her side long ago and went off on their own but Vitriol couldn’t. He needed Michelle, relied on her to put across his goals and his next move into words since he wasn’t able to speak for himself. All he was capable of was physically dissecting whoever was in his path whether he was in a match against them or whether they happened to come face to face with him anywhere else.
The thing that seemed to be the most contrived thing in the world when it came to Michelle was that she would take something Vitriol wished to convey through her and make it all about herself and her own goals and then when it came to him doing what he did best between the ropes of the MCW ring, Michelle was still there barking her orders and trying to grab the attentions of the cameras and the fans instead of being supportive of his cause. The first example of this was the fact that Michelle had watched on without a care in the world while Vitriol did his best to take on the conjoined might of Segador and Barney Green in a tag team match.
Michelle had preened and tried to make herself look good, giving out her orders but not doing what a manager of the ilk she wished to be would do in the situation by trying to distract the referee in order to aid her charge when the opposition looked to dominate the battle. Instead she just watched on, staring in horror as Vitriol took the fall and suffered defeat purely because of her inaction and because his tag team partner River Angelus didn’t seem to wish to be a part of the match, just standing there not trying to help, not trying to break any covers or submissions performed by Segador or Barney.
This sickened and appalled Vitriol although he’d never had admitted to it due to his emotionless actions usually conveyed. There was one person however who had no qualms about showing their emotions and disgust at the way Michelle was treating Vitriol. That person made themselves known during a Buried Alive match he had against Priest at All Hallow’s Annihilation, an event that shared a name with a certain night of the year where all the monsters and creatures of the night would make themselves appear to play amongst the realm of the “normal”.
This person happened to be the daughter of a known wrestler by the name of Zolomon, a dangerous individual who was known to Vitriol due to their blackened hearts and common goal of devastation. This female was known as Ambrosia and she herself was unleashed earlier that night in a massacre that involved a Juggalo being slaughtered so it was of no surprise that she would inject herself like a poison into the Buried Alive match. She attacked Michelle with a steel chair for all of those months of misleading Vitriol for her own gains, a measure of revenge for the masked monster as well as for those who were slightly off kilter mentally and had to play second best to glamourous bitches like Michelle Richards.
She’d tried to lay out thumbtacks to slam Michelle onto at ringside but Vitriol had seen her, dragged her up by the hair onto the apron then slammed her down viciously not just onto the ground but onto those tacks too but instead of lying there wracked in agony, Ambrosia actually laughed and rolled around as if she were enjoying it and wanted to feel more of those sharp tacks pierce her skin. This and the fact that she still was able to move around and kidnap Michelle while the blonde had been strapped bleeding and injured to a stretcher impressed Vitriol, making him wonder if it was worthwhile approaching Ambrosia to see what made her tick, maybe even cause more pain to her and see if she was as fraudulent as Michelle or the real deal like her father.
It didn’t matter that Priest had managed to drop him into the grave with an A-Bomb then cover the whole thing with dirt, nor did it matter that Priest had somehow made the entire grave and surrounding area explode into flames because his own powers were just as great, ensuring that he was long gone from that site the moment the dirt began to fall on top of him. In fact, when the grave exploded Vitriol was already outside the Joe Louis Arena hidden amongst the shadows and watching as the ambulance that Ambrosia had stolen to drive Michelle away in roared past with its lights and sirens blaring deep into the Detroit night.
Vitriol had caught up with them eventually, watching from a distance as Ambrosia sought to punish Michelle however she wished, slapping and insulting her while she looked on completely terrified and fearful for her life. It somehow felt reassuring knowing that here was Michelle, completely at someone else’s mercy and frightened with no idea what may happen to her, what lay in her cards while Ambrosia darted all around her, laughing, shouting and generally having fun playing with Michelle’s mind. Ambrosia eventually releasing Michelle with a task to perform and a promise that if Aerik Walker would leave MCW, no harm would come to her before watching as the blonde ran as best she could after the confinement and lack of movement.
That was when Vitriol chose to make himself known, coming to Ambrosia as she looked up at him with a bewilderment and a curiosity at what this being may do to her, perhaps even deep down looking forward to it if he so chose, her eyes widening as the two made eye contact, just like when he first came face to face with Michelle Richards. This moment was different though; this was more of two kindred spirits than two separate people with different agendas. Whereas Michelle was too afraid to touch Vitriol apart from when they were at MCW shows where the cameras would be watching, Ambrosia had no worries and gently ran her fingers down the side of the steel mask covering his face, if indeed he had a face behind that object.
Ambrosia: Me and you....we both want to cause chaos and anarchy in MCW and we both have an intolerance of pathetic cunts like that bitch that clung to your side like a leech. I want to play with her, have her as my own personal toy until we both see fit to dispose of her however we want to but I want us to join forces. After all, a force like us, the two of us bringing the worst nightmares MCW will ever suffer while we have our fun.
Her words seemed a refreshing change from Michelle’s self-satisfying wishes. Here was somebody who, just like him, didn’t care for championships or glory, only wished to be a harbinger of pain and destruction even if they had to suffer pain themselves along the way, in fact they’d most likely enjoy it. In fact, unlike Michelle, it didn’t seem that Ambrosia had a plan in mind, just made things up as she went along and if she got some sort of sick and twisted fun out of it then all the better. Still gently touching the cheek of the mask, Ambrosia stared deep into Vitriol’s eyes awaiting an answer.
Ambrosia: So, do we have a deal?
She watched, waiting for some sort of sign that Vitriol understood and would accept or deny her the opportunity she had set before him, getting ready to feel that delightful pain and agony she so enjoyed if he chose to take her down again and tear her limb from limb. All of those childhood years spent in institutions alongside her father Saul had affected her to the point that pain was one of her biggest pleasures, as could be made obvious by the thumbtacks still embedded in her back and arms from slightly earlier in the night. She didn’t have to worry though, no angry and violent response from the masked monster, instead just a simple and laborious nod to ensure she knew what his answer was, no question.
Watching that long damp hair gently sway with his nodding, Ambrosia grinned and released a deafening, ear splitting scream into the night sky, not just the Second Chapter of Absolution but also this dark and wholly unrepentant evil....both Reborn.....
Food Of The Gods.....
Death comes in many forms but for some, it can be swift and painless while others see it as a long drawn out and painful experience. One section of society sees death as the end, the goal to which all of life strives to avoid, the fear of death and it’s eternal slumber amongst the plains where the living can play and go about their business as a regular every day occurrence while the dead are unable to do anything but lie where they were buried, unmoving and unfeeling, lack of soul contradicting the presence of life that had been enjoyed for so long.
The extent to which people try to avoid death is ever present in the consumerist world occupied by the shallow and the feeble, trying to increase and further their pathetic presence on the mortal coil for as long as they possibly can. Skin creams, surgical procedures and other ways to hold back the aging process are rife and rampant, people kidding themselves that they are still young and free, full of energy and life while rapidly approaching the end of their time roaming with no point, with no direction or purpose in life.
Others meanwhile see death as only the beginning, the light at the end of the tunnel becoming more of an entrance to the new birth than the exit from the living and into the realms of the dead. Spiritualist mediums try to contact the dead and ask them to make noises, to show that they’re around while the only souls there are the ones who act as conduits through which the newly dead leave and go through the revolving door of the ethereal plain to make their next grand entrance in the world of living.
All of this true rebirth goes unnoticed and the myths still perceived as fact remain as alive as the pathetic mortals who believe in them. One such person lived a long time ago in an ancient land ruled by King Jacob, a person known as Medinas. He believed that life should go on for a long time, that death should be halted in its tracks thinking that to pass on and cross over was the end of days for that soul, having seen it in his own parents, first through his father who felt the icy hand of death during battle defending his land from an invading force and then his mother, a woman once seen as beautiful but had aged terribly and decayed before his eyes as time went on.
This made him feel regretful that time couldn’t be stopped for just long enough to enjoy a fulfilled life that was far extended beyond normal means. No matter what he attempted, nothing seemed to work and eventually, he asked a mystic in a nearby area, being told that only the court of King Jacob could help a human gain immortality that matched only that of the gods themselves. Medinas began his trek towards King Jacob’s domain, reaching it after walking for days and finding himself before the king himself. Medinas kneeled as he was summoned, leaving Jacob to curiously obtain the reason this simple peasant man had arrived and then gleefully enjoying this tale of his search for the key to living forever.
The king relished the chance to make Medinas go on a quest for him, helping to obtain an amulet for him, a chalice that would help him get rid of his woes once and for all. King Jacob had been suffering thanks to a brother who held a deep and personal hatred and jealousy for his rule, wishing to be rid of him and take the throne for himself and his own malicious intentions. Only by helping bring back this chalice would Medinas be given the secret to immortality. He couldn’t help but have to agree to the terms, bidding the court adieu before setting off for a far and distant land across the seas and high in the perilous mountains.
His long walk away from the paradise that was King Jacob’s court seemed arduous already, having no rest after arriving here and finding that he would somehow have to make his way towards the destination, a cave dwelling of something said to be of pure evil and wicked intentions. Hidden deep in his cloak was a beacon, a small wind instrument that would need to be played if ever danger struck and he needed help. This seemed of little comfort to him as he walked and walked and walked along the soft sands of the ground below, the desert warming him from the ground up as he marched upon the floor that was constantly shifting with every movement he made and every footstep planted.
The sun bore down upon the ground and reflected up onto his own body, causing the heat to make his torso and his skin feel even hotter than usual under such a hot sky. Sweat seemed to form small little puddles that dripped down his skin and soaked into his clothing and down onto the sand in tiny droplets, giving the sand below a slight watering, perhaps their first since forming here and creating this desert. His footing became unsteady as he tried to walk in a straight line but found himself slipping either to one side or the other, such was the nature of the terrain upon which he was trekking.
The walk was a long one, passing through a desert by day with a torn piece of fabric from his clothing wrapped around his head and face for protection from the heat and the sandstorms that occasionally blew and surrounded him and lighting a small fire at night to cope with the deathly cold temperatures at night, keeping him warm as he sat staring at the flames wondering how much longer he’d have to continue this journey.
Once daybreak arrived deep into his journey, he awoke to a feeling of refreshment and a renewed energy, not knowing why or how but reveling in the glory and the vibrancy surging through him and making him prepared to walk non stop for days or even weeks if necessary to arrive at his destination. Before he knew it, he had reached the shores of the vast ocean, finding himself a boat and pushing it with every strength within him towards the water. Getting it afloat, Medinas hopped inside and sat on the seat, grabbing an oar in each hand and moving them back and forth, cutting through the frothy foam of the waves to move gradually across the glassy waters and towards a distant island he could barely make out on the horizon.
The splashing of the waters against the sides of the boat as well as the creaking of the wooden vessel were the only sounds he could rely on to comfort him, listening to them to get a sort of timing, his rowing matching the sounds he listened to so carefully, his strength slowly feeling as if it would be sapped away if he’d done otherwise. The rocking of the strongest waves midway through this epic voyage wasn’t enough to sway his focus from the task he had to do, continuing as if his life depended on it and with good reason because the journey could be so vast that he wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left King Jacob’s court.
Indeed, what if his quest to defeat aging and live forever had taken its toll and left him as an old man already, too late to conquer that which worried and concerned him so much? It was a difficult thought to comprehend, not wishing to be anything other than the young man he was when he decided to set out on this quest to find eternal youth as well as the chalice that King Jacob had so wished for. Cautiously, he rested an oar upon the side of the boat and leaned slightly so that he could peer over the edge and into the waters below to see his own reflection, sighing in relief as he spotted his still youthful looks peering back at him, a smile escaping his lips as he felt pleased that he hadn’t been as long as he thought.
Leaning back into the middle of the boat, he grabbed the oars again and began to continue his arduous rowing, still timing it against the creaking of the wood and the crashing of the waves so that the task would be made slightly easier for him rather than going against the tide. The ebbs, flows and gentle rocking that came with the rowing seemed to help alleviate his thoughts from what was going on, ease his mind and help him settle into his thoughts. He didn’t wish to worry, seeing it as a sign of aging and wanting to avoid that at all costs, instead focusing on the task at hand as well as the family he might still get to see once he returns with eternal youth.
He wondered just why King Jacob wished a chalice to be fetched for him, why this vessel for wine and water was necessary in fending off his brother from usurping him and taking his crown. Why would it matter if a mere cup were within his grasp whether or not he’d remain ruler of the lands? It made no sense but as he’d made a promise to return the object to his king, that’s what he had to do. Would the chalice somehow fit into his quest for eternal life? Would drinking from it grant immortality and that’s why King Jacob had requested such an item, knowing its powers, knowing he was also seeking the same purpose and combined the two quests into one? He wasn’t sure but he felt good inside, curiosity over what may be in the cave upon which he’d been directed and whether or not....the evil....would still be lurking when he arrived.
The sky seemed to almost darken as thoughts of what evil may occupy the cave he was seeking, wondering what type of creature it may be and whether it would notice him sneaking into its territory to take grasp of the chalice. Could he escape without being detected or would he have a fight on his hands to get out of there with his life? The land drew closer as he made it to the shore, climbing out of the boat and physically dragging it through the waters and onto the beach to prevent it being swept away by the tides in case he had to hurry back and quickly escape, no time to swim or to hunt for a new boat.
Satisfied the boat would go nowhere, Medinas looked around and spotted a huge menacing cave before him, grey rocks surrounding the entrance as he gingerly crept towards that mouth-like cave. It seemed dark inside the further he went but was surprised to see that a light happened at the end of the tunnel he was walking along, a bright white light that beckoned him with a silent pull. The tunnel echoed with the drip dripping of water hitting the ground as his feet carefully placed so as not to stumble or make a noise, happening upon the end of the tunnel and peering inside to evaluate the scenery.
It seemed like an ordinary cave save for the burning torches on the walls to light the chamber. On the far side of this chamber happened to be a golden chalice, stood waiting for somebody to swipe it for their own and leave without anybody noticing it is missing until whoever snatched it could be far away and long out of reach. He crept closer, paying no mind to anything but holding that fine chalice in his hands and taking it back to King Jacob, thinking about the possible glory and ruches that might await him as a prize. That’s when he became blindsided by something he didn’t expect but which he should have paid more focus on. The very evil said to lurk in this cave was leaping to attack, springing its surprise upon him from the side and finding himself too shocked at the fast pace upon which it leapt to move out of the way.
It was surrounded completely by black, seemingly a figure or shaped as such and with no real face to notice, instead just a horrific image too terrifying to put into words, the sense of rage coming from this thing too much to bear. Rooted to the spot, Medinas was unable to do anything but watch open mouthed and with heart racing until he suddenly remembered the instrument he had been given, removing the small white ocarina style object from its hiding place within his clothing and bringing the apparently hand crafted object to his lips, blowing into it and moving his fingers along the holes at random hoping a noise, any noise, would emanate.
A flash of brilliant light suddenly appeared after the brief random jumble of a melody had been played, entering the cave and striking at the evil so that it was knocked away from Medinas. He watched on as the white flash formed a person with a white masked face, turning to face him as this human looked upon the heroic form of the god of justice Segador. Nobody had ever seen this god before except in paintings or other pieces of art and sculpture depicting him saving the ancients in their time of need, which helped establish the lands in which they occupied for centuries and the laws that ruled over them.
To say the sight of this vision of justice was awe-inspiring would be a complete understatement, the beauty and the elegance with which Segador gracefully took to the air like no mortal man could to fight off this evil incarnate protecting the chalice amazing Medinas. He carefully crept over towards that golden glinting object, keeping one eye on the chalice he was seeking for King Jacob as well as watching Segador and the evil in case he had to quickly move out of the way of their brawling. The god fought with all his might, giving the beast a battering from which it didn’t seem able to recover, trying to fight back as best it could but ending up unsuccessful. It did manage to strike Segador several times and stagger the masked god but he was quickly able to recover and take down the creature, send it down onto the ground in utter defeat.
Medinas himself watched and looked amazed at the ease with which Segador had vanquished his foe. Perhaps the beast was not as powerful and all encompassing as he had been led to believe by King Jacob’s court, after all he’d always believed that some stories and tales were simply that, myths created with a lack of true information as to the origins, making something as simple as a bird building a nest for its eggs into a dragon of a ferocity unseen to mankind breathing fire and destroying homes for its own pleasure. Looking at the beast on the floor where Segador left it, Medinas noticed that it looked somewhat shriveled and unassuming.
Segador himself pointed to something behind Medinas before disappearing into the nothingness from whence he came, leaving Medinas alone with that defeated beast of burden, chalice still in the mortal hands while this person on a quest for an eternal life that this evil would not even see due to its defeat spun on his heels and walked towards a cave wall, realizing that it was actually a small passageway that led out and to somewhere else. He ventured further, a small opening not too far away and another light, this time brighter than that which revealed the chamber which the chalice and the beats occupied. The smell of food wafted through the air and hit his nostrils like the blade of a sword upon a heavy shield during battle, following that smell until he happened upon something else that was once seen as mythical but which was now before him; the very home of the gods themselves, this seemingly their dining room.
Staring into the room, he saw that unflinching evil once more, having somehow penetrated the halls of the wonderful palace, looking like a dark shadowy mass in this otherwise bright and beautiful room. The evil was facing away from Medinas, stooped slightly over a long wooden dining table where a plentitude of fine fruits, soft warm breads and delicious smelling cooked meats lay on golden plates, golden chalices also occupying the table but largely going ignored by this evil. Medinas stared in silence, not wanting to disturb the evil for fear of what may happen if he was discovered, wondering what was going on, what had this intermittent evil’s attention. And that’s when he noticed the arms of this beast grabbing at chunks of food, noises betraying the feasting upon this succulent meal by this cruel and evil creature.
This evil entity was doing what only the gods could do. It was eating their food, the food only created for the gods to feast upon, breaking every rule set down upon the lands to ensure that offerings given to those who rule over mere mortals would be able to have vast meals undisturbed yet here was this thing, this embodiment of the purest, most evil and diabolical in all of mankind was tasting this for itself. It was feasting upon the ambrosia that helped gain immortality to the gods so they could forever watch on and protect their people whenever necessary.
Ambrosia was said to be the food of the gods that gave an ageless and forever continuing lifespan to all who consumed it, the power within too great for ordinary people and yet Medinas was standing watching this....this evil....that was it. The secret to the forever that he had been looking for, the answer to his prayers of defying age and natural life to live much longer than his means, the ambrosia laid out before him which this beast was feasting upon so hungrily. He wondered whether to join this creature and stand at its side taking whatever food he could for himself or whether he’d need to get rid of this thing once and for all so that he may continue undeterred towards the table and ensure that he outlasted all others while this vile creature would be long dead and unable to appear again after its supposed death in that cave.
He couldn’t take it any longer, deciding that he needed to be rid of this unbearable evil forever and once again removing the instrument from within his clothes. He held it to his mouth and again played a tune, grabbing the attention of the beast who turned to reveal its nightmarish face once more, moving to lunge at Medinas but halted when for a second time Golden Eagle appeared to protect the mortal from this beast, swooping upon the evil with every intent to take it down for good, living up to his task as protector of the people. This only seemed to enrage the creature, targeting Golden Eagle instead with all of its menace and anger, seeking revenge upon this god of the lands and all who occupy them for the previous defeat it had suffered against Segador.
The two met head on, throwing blows upon the other as Medinas raised the instrument for a second time and called upon Segador’s return, the white purity of this god of justice appearing and joining the cause alongside Golden Eagle. Both gods peered into the dark soul of this creature, completely fearless in their onslaught as they battled and waged war in this dining room of the gods. Food and chalices were knocked asunder while the blood red coloured wine spilled all over during the fight, the double whammy of Golden Eagle’s more grounded assault while Segador’s high flying attacks kept the beats on its toes, not knowing where or how they would attack next.
Medinas looked on, observing this fight and seeming pleased that the two gods were taking it to the evil entity, perhaps even close to its defeat at last but then something mortified him as he realized that the dark shadowy aura that surrounded the creature seemed to only grow slowly and more determined, standing out as if a black billowing smoke was surrounding the beast’s body and trying to extend all around the room, sucking the life from the atmosphere to turn everything into its own cold and heartless realm.
The power this evil beast possessed seemed to grow larger and larger, Segador and Golden Eagle continuing to wage their war against it but finding themselves coming up short the longer the fight went on. The ambrosia, the food of the gods that the evil was consuming as Medinas walked into this room was working its magic, aiding him in creating extra power to fight off this virtuous duo, giving him the forceful means to encounter both of these gods at once without feeling too cornered overwhelmed. With every punch he struck back with a counter punch, every elbow strike followed with a volley in response with neither side giving an inch, a more evenly matched battle despite it being two against one.
Slowly, the tide began to turn in the beast’s favour, a punch with the right hand to Golden Eagle followed by the elbow slamming back into position and colliding with the head of Segador along the way, the ambrosia that had been feasted upon by this entity and now the remnants strewn all over the floor in the heat of battle all helping to give this creature an ever increasing strength that knew no boundaries, knew no limits. It was a scary sight watching this demonic being full of bile and hatred really begin to let rip against these two more than worthy foes, rendering their efforts futile the more this fight raged on.
Medinas watched on with worry as the gods of justice and the people slowed down their efforts, almost as if they could no longer feel the driving force that led them to battle in the first place, as if they were becoming weak and tired like the mortals they protected and watched over on a regular basis. Segador was the first to be utterly destroyed, he being the one that halted the evil’s plans for violence in the cave and now his weakened state in the face of the ever growing strength of the entity made him more vulnerable to the vengeance being wreaked upon him by this thing, this bitter, vile, twisted thing that represented all that is bad and wrong with the world.
Segador threw one last punch in a desperate attempt to damage this creature but it had no effect, taking a step back as Golden Eagle struck it instead to allow Segador the time to take a short run towards the table where the rest of the ambrosia lay then leaping in a perfect back flip onto the evil, trying to press down with his own weight to force it down to the ground and allow himself and Golden Eagle to take the advantage but even having its back to Segador during the attack didn’t allow the masked god of justice the pleasure of bringing down this force of darkness. Instead, the black mass of evil stood unaffected as if Segador was a drop of rain bouncing off its shoulder.
With the god of justice perched on its shoulder, the evil shrugged him off and pushed Golden Eagle away just long enough to deliver a crushing blow, stamping down hard upon Segador and hearing the crunch and devastation that was Segador’s body as the god of justice lay still, his life diminished and robbed of the eternal sanctity that was being alive. Medinas and Golden Eagle stared in horror at the still growing evil incarnate, its strength blossoming by the second as the god of justice lay dead at its feet, Golden Eagle with a look in his eyes that betrayed he didn’t wish to share the same fate but still wanted to protect his people and his land as he had always done.
Despite his weakened state having grown weary during the battle and having seen and felt first hand the ever-increasing power growing and incubating within this evil. Nevertheless, he had no other choice but to fire off a burst of power and speed, a flurry of punches that connected with the beast and seemed to stagger it backwards slightly, Golden Eagle with every ounce of energy and spirit within him to call up the help of his ancestors and the power of the lands he watched over to give him his biggest burst, looking to drive this creature down to the ground with a power that matched its own ambrosia-created might.
While the creature was staggered, Golden Eagle took the opportunity to wrap his arm across the upper torso of the beast, placing the evil incarnate so that its own arm was also behind Golden Eagle’s neck, raising it up off the ground and driving it down to the floor with an all empowering slam that caused the ground underneath them to crack slightly and for small bolts of energy and lightning to emit. Medinas watched and smiled, pleased that the great protector had lived up to his name, raising to his feet to look at this mortal who had accomplished the task of retrieving the chalice for King Jacob and who had also traveled to find the secret to eternal life.
He walked closer, stopping dead in his tracks suddenly when Medinas opened his eyes wide in terror, causing Golden Eagle to turn and come face to face with the now standing and unaffected evil, helpless as it grabbed him and picked him off the ground, driving him down into the floor with a devastation that created bigger cracks in the ground, Golden Eagle’s breath and perhaps even his soul driven from his mouth as the evil stood triumphant. It turned its attentions to Medinas, tilting its head in curiosity at the chalice within this human’s hands before pouncing. Medinas, having searched for the age defying secrets of the gods, found only a sudden and instant death, searching no more as evil triumphed.....
Ends Justifying The Means.....
The scene abruptly begins with an image of a dark basement, lit with dim lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, uncovered to give extra brightness and giving a spotlight effect in different areas of the dungeon-like room. The lightbulb in the centre gives off enough light to reveal a steel table like those found in a morgue and leather restraints attached to the sides to keep whatever or whoever is unlucky enough to find themselves lying on it completely still and unable to move. From what can be seen in the room that's still mostly in shadow and darkness, the walls seem to be a green coloured concrete deal with chipped and worn paint, holes and puncture marks as well as what look like marks where fingernails have been dragged in a futile attempt to escape from this prison.
The sound of a door's lock rattling echoes around the room, the sliding of a key pushed into it before being turned and twisted, a loud bang as it twists out of place to allow for the door to be opened. Right on cue, the creaking of a wooden door and a rusty hinge following the noise of a key as a big rectangle of light shines and allows the table to be seen more clearly; the worn brown leather of the straps; the dull glint of brass that looks years old where the restraints are tightened; the shimmering of steel on the table and noticeable stains whether they be rust or - perhaps even more horrifying - dried up blood adorning areas of the table's top or sides. The light from an outside source wasn't the only thing to enter the room, the sounds of something heavy being dragged along the floor, scraping across something more solid like concrete than a surface such as wood, perhaps the quieter the better for this room depending on its purpose for existing.
The dragging continues as shadows appear in the shaft of light emanating from outside of the room, dancing upon the ground and the table and growing larger as the dragging noise becomes slightly louder, accompanied by a soft giggling that was at first an almost silent whisper and grew in volume, louder and louder followed by loud thumps upon the concrete floor as the shadow visible in the room seemed to have a part of it moving up and down. Suddenly and without warning, a figure leaps into the room, a female figure looking almost as grungy as the room itself. Dressed in a dark corset and skirt and almost looking like madness personified, Ambrosia hops up and down on the spot, her knee length boots stomping the ground as she revels in a child like glee at something in her field of vision, that heavy dragging sound still heard.
Ambrosia: Bring that bitch in here, I want her to see how serious I was last time.
The dragging noise continued as Ambrosia looked to be dancing with glee all around the bottom end of the steel table, eventually coming to a halt as Vitriol himself walked backwards into the room, stooped to drag something in his grasp along the floor while the metal mask he wore shimmered in what little light there was. The darkness of his jumpsuit matched that of the actions and thoughts of this maniacal pairing, matched the corners and edges of this room in a similar way that Vitriol and Ambrosia lurked in the dark corners of people's nightmares, waiting to pounce and attack with an assault, an onslaught that would both be totally unexpected and totally shocking in every sense of the word.
Vitriol's stooping continued as the heavy object he was dragging came into view, something long and slender and looking flesh coloured. Ambrosia stared on, her eyes wide with exhilaration and excitement as she became fixated with whatever the object was. Teeth bared in a twisted smile, her makeup was dark and eschewed on her face through choice rather than circumstance as if either she wished to intimidate further with this wild look or else just didn't seem to care like most females do, choosing to spend more time on more important things than perfecting her war paint for the day, important things such as terrorising the masses one at a time through her Hollyweird show or the way she decimated her own body purely to eliminate opponents during MCW shows.
The flesh coloured object had something that looked like a white material similar to cotton or something else used for clothing, draped across the slightly long part of this object that Vitriol was grasping to drag it. The rest of it seemed to ride up whatever the object was due to the force of friction pushing it backwards and up against something else that also looked white, a huge mass of what looks like canvas with a peak near the back end of the object, slowly more of it being seen until Vitriol finally drags the entire object into view and the macabre image of a person’s head attached to it and long blonde hair, still attached to the scalp but dragged along the floor.
Ambrosia: Yeah that’s it, bring her to the table.
Vitriol complied, dragging “her” towards that cold mortuary table while Ambrosia sneered and jumped around in excitement, slamming the door shut and locking it before a flicking sound is heard and the room brightens, revealing more horrors of this grungy room. Crude scratches and scribbling in crayon or black permanent ink formed words, perhaps the ramblings of a crazy mind although whose mind isn’t made clear. Even the table itself was as grimy as the walls surrounding it, Vitriol easily heaving the blonde haired carcass up onto the table, keeping his hands pressed down upon it while Ambrosia moved closer, peering at the body with her head tilted toward her shoulder in curiosity before reaching for the body’s shoulder, lifting it enough to give Vitriol the hint to hold it in that position while she could unfasten the sleeves of what looks to be a straitjacket from their holdings in the back.
Ambrosia: So satisfying to open one of these things when you’re not wearing it yourself. You realize that straitjackets are a work of genius, if whoever invented them were still alive I’d shake their hand before I ripped their fucking throat out and fed it to them.
Satisfied with the work she’s done so far, Ambrosia roughly pulls the body back down onto the table and unthreading the sleeves from their buckles and the loops at the sides, grinning as she grabs at an arm still in one of the sleeves and raises it up slightly, watching as it collapses down onto the torso of the body. Vitriol merely stands watching as Ambrosia plays this little game with the arm then moves to the side of the table, obscuring the view of the table, only her back and the head and legs of the body visible.
Movement is seen near the table, Ambrosia’s arms tugging and pulling until finally the straitjacket is yanked off, the body’s arms raised up momentarily as the straitjacket is dragged away before plopping back down. Ambrosia tosses the restraining jacket across the room then reaches over to the opposite side of the table, grabbing at something then standing upright again and meddling near her own body while Vitriol moves to the lower part of the table and grabs at a thick leather strap, pulling it taut over the legs of the carcass then looping it through the rusty brass buckles, ensuring that the legs are unable to move even an inch.
Satisfied with their work, Vitriol and Ambrosia look at each other for a few seconds, the second generation psycho female leaping onto the table and kneeling over the body, staring into the closed eyes. She gently caresses the cheek and hair of the body before slapping it harshly, a second followed by a sneer as the eyes open to reveal that this person was still very much alive rather than the assumed lifelessness before.
Ambrosia: That’s it bitch, wake the fuck up! Open your fucking eyes Michelle!
Another vicious slap to Michelle’s face wakes her to the living nightmare she is faced with, restrained to the table unable to move with this psycho kneeling above her and a monster standing as a silent observer. The monster…….recognizable and welcoming, someone she had known and been associated with for months, someone who did her bidding and was there in times of need. Well right now was one of those times, Michelle staring at the steel mask, the piercing eyes beyond still focused entirely upon her.
Michelle: Vitriol, help me, get this crazy bitch off me and take off these restraints.
The daughter of Zolomon watched in a sort of bittersweet amusement, surprised at this pleading from the blonde, the calm in her voice despite her face revealing a terror somehow contrasting with each other, wondering how long it would take before she finally snapped and became desperate enough to scream out for help. Turning her head to face Vitriol, Ambrosia looked to see what his reaction might be to Michelle’s pleas for help. Vitriol himself only stood silently, his eyes still fixed upon his manager as if his mind was trying to decide whether to side with her and release her, help her escape or remain to see what Ambrosia’s vicious thoughts could create in way of punishment for the misdeeds Michelle had supposedly committed.
Finally revealing his true intentions, Vitriol walked forwards, placing his hand over Michelle’s mouth and clamping down hard as her eyes widened in fear, trying to scream but only a muffled sound emitted while Ambrosia grinned and turned back to face Michelle, a snarl escaping her lips while she bent closer to their victim’s face.
Ambrosia: Poor little bitch, thought HER Vitriol would save her? Huh? Well YOUR Vitriol is now HIS Vitriol…..that’s right you cum stained little whore, Vitriol is his own monster, controlled by no one and let loose by me to reach his true potential.
Michelle continued to struggle, trying to shake off the restraints but unable due to the tightness of the thick leather, still screaming into Vitriol’s palm while Ambrosia lunged to bite at her face, stopping just short and finding the whole situation hilarious.
Ambrosia: You honestly think you did some good for Vitriol, enough to keep him as your little pet? Look at him now, ready to do whatever it takes to punish you for all that time under your spell. What did you do, wave those ugly silicone pieces of shit and expect him to come running to your every whim? I told you before you Barbie wannabe whore, Vitriol is no longer yours, he’s being unleashed thanks to me setting him free from his pathetic little cock-sheath and her pretend evil.
You can’t fake what you’re truly not but you tried didn’t you, tried like the stupid little whore you are and look where it’s got you. Tied up on your back, getting used to this? Or is this a regular thing for you…..well, without the fact you have two psychopaths who could literally cut you up, feed you your own arm and leave you an amputee for our own pleasure.
Michelle’s eyes darted from Ambrosia to Vitriol, remaining silent now having realized her screams will come to nothing and that if no one is coming to her rescue now, nobody will. Ambrosia meanwhile pushes herself over Michelle’s body and hops down onto the ground to stand by the side of the table, licking Michelle’s cheek while the blonde stared on horrified before moving towards the wall directly below where this scene is being played out, disappearing momentarily before coming back into view with a gleeful walk back to Michelle’s position, holding something in her right hand. Vitriol finally removes his hand from Michelle’s face as Ambrosia holds her hand up and lets the pair see a rusty saw blade in her grasp, Michelle immediately crying out for help again and screaming as much as her lungs and voice will allow, Ambrosia slapping her again hard and holding the saw to Michelle’s exposed throat and hissing loudly.
Ambrosia: I fucking hate noise now shut the fuck up before I show you what the vocal chords of a silly bitch like you look like.
Immediately going silent, Michelle tries to calm herself, finding it a difficult task as tiny whimpers leave her mouth, her eyes welling up in tears as she stares with a wild eyed look that would probably look at home with all of the childhood photos of Ambrosia from the asylums she occupied throughout her life so far. Her chest was still moving though, matching the sharp, short intakes of breath borne out of an intrinsic fear of her current climate and potential fate. Ambrosia noticed this and stared at the chest of this blonde captive.
Ambrosia: Chest feeling heavy Denise? Maybe it’s those lumps of plastic you had shoved in there weighing on your lungs, shall I cut a hole and help you out?
She stares, seeming to revel in the fear running throughout Michelle’s body, causing her to shake and try as hard as she can to remain silent and relaxed, a tough task to perform considering the fact there was a silent and masked monster on one side of her and the insanity driven psychopath on the other side. Placing the blade of the saw against Michelle’s chest causes a reaction both unexpected and amusing.
Michelle: Please God, help me!
The sudden cry for anybody or anything to help her out of this predicament allowed Ambrosia to begin dancing around the top end of the table, staring at Michelle as she does and tossing the saw blade against a wall, lunging with her right hand to grab at Michelle’s throat and lean in close to hiss at her.
Ambrosia: God? You really think your pathetic God will save you now? Are you a religious woman Denise? Is it in your blood?
She takes a small knife from her boot and slices at Michelle’s arm, watching the blood trickle from the wound and staring at it.
Ambrosia: I don’t see God in there, do you Vitriol?
The monster just looks and shakes his head in response while Ambrosia turns to the bleeding cut and slowly licks up the crimson blood.
Ambrosia: I can taste the fear Denise, you’re full of it. Running around for months knowing Vitriol will be there to watch over you if you ever get into trouble. It was your fault he lost to Priest at All Hallow’s Annihilation but now I’ve helped awaken him as the true devastation of the world, the avatar of destruction that will show its new found power at Mayhem against that burrito chomping piece of shit Segador and his tag team partner who will be made to regret his decision to leave the casino behind and return to the ring.
Mayhem will be an ironic name because that’s exactly what MCW will get when Vitriol makes Segador fly at Golden Eagle with one of those flippy moves he likes to do, impale that supposed hero of wrestling deep into the chest of his own tag team partner while I finish the job. Me and Vitriol, you know what we’re gonna do Denise? We’re gonna take them down with Scarokinesis then bring absolution to MCW and we want you to be there watching over it all.
We’ll give you a special seat, just for you, best seat in the house to watch while this avatar shakes off the shackles you kept him under, leaves behind the tame beast under the spell of a pathetic cunt with a high opinion of herself and becomes the beginning of the end, the master of his own destiny and harbinger of our new revolution of anarchy and chaos.
But you....little God-fearing peroxide bitch....we’ll leave you with a special gift that everyone in MCW and all of those watching at home on their filthy couches won’t ever forget in a hurry. Once we’ve……crossed you out…….eliminated you from wrecking our plans…….oh and by the way Denise, you can thank Aerik Walker for all of this, prehistoric piece of shit didn’t leave like I asked so he’s to blame if anything happens to you…….that’ll leave me and Vitriol free to do whatever we like.
Michelle remains silent and utterly terrified, her eyes on Ambrosia at all times and not even caring if Vitriol was ready to attack with bare hands or some sort of rusted implement while her attention was elsewhere. Luckily for her, Vitriol was planning nothing, instead watching the scene playing out before his very eyes and staring at the woman who he used to rely on to further his cause vocally.
Ambrosia: Doesn’t matter what that dirty old man has caused for you Michelle because the trauma you’ll suffer under this axis of evil will be as equally matched as the violence suffered by Segador and Golden Eagle at our hands. There isn’t going to be a single silicone enhanced cunt around to tame us or try to “guide” us to victory….oh no, don’t cry Denise…..shhh, it’s ok……
She caresses the blonde locks of their victim in an effort to soothe her and calm her down even though Ambrosia’s touch causes Michelle to flinch and feel uneasy.
Ambrosia: Those two supposedly fearless and powerful warriors of virtue and love will find themselves overwhelmed when they come up against evil and hatred personified. All their preening, their attempts to fly or get technical to win will come to nothing when WE….we Michelle, not you and your spotlight seeking pussy…….show them that this so called sport is all about violence. The only way to get ahead and dominate is to eradicate the competition in the most destructive way possible and it will happen at Mayhem Denise. I’m capable of causing pain, you found that out first hand the last few weeks haven’t you?
How did it feel being struck over the head with a steel chair? How did it feel being restrained in a straitjacket and zapped repeatedly with a defibrillator? How did it feel when my dad smashed the porcelain lid of a toilet basin over your supposedly pretty little face then wrapped his arm around your throat? Did it feel good, give you a high or was it utterly terrifying beyond comprehension, enough to create a stink in your panties as bad as the bathroom you woke up in?
Those are the feelings that are going to be experienced at Mayhem. It will be me and Vitriol who will feel that ecstasy in agony, me and Vitriol who will feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through our bodies as we slowly dismember Segador until he needs a mask to cover the horrific damage we’ll do to his face and feels a pain in his body worse than the pain he felt when he threw himself in front of a moving vehicle to save another pathetic cunt like you.
Then when we’re done with him, we’ll turn to Golden Eagle, make him an endangered species as we tear at his flesh like vultures on an already long dead carcass until there’s nothing left but bones for MCW to sweep away and toss in the trash with the rest of the pieces of shit who think they’re worth anything. Golden Eagle will leave Mayhem knowing how disappointed his little native people in their traditional dresses and paint will be in him.
Tradition? The only tradition in this world is that to get ahead you have to be willing to murder and maim and kill and guess what Denise? You’re looking at two people willing to do just that. I let myself get thrown from the ring apron to the floor onto a pile of thumbtacks just to prove myself to Vitriol, prove I was worthy of his time and that’s nothing compared to the damage we’ll do to Segador and Golden Eagle at Mayhem. It really will be madness and mayhem personified but you know the worst crime of all Denise? Other than the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes you gave Vitriol when you tried to command him to do your every whim I mean.
The crime is....
She slaps Michelle hard when her focus shifts towards Vitriol, still standing watching on with the dim glow of the bulbs reflecting on his steel mask, that cold hard metal showing similar traits to his own emotionless and blackened heart. Gripping Michelle by the cheeks and forcefully digging her fingernails into the flesh until droplets of blood formed, Ambrosia waited until she was satisfied that all attention was on her before continuing.
Ambrosia: Fucking listen to me when I talk to you bitch! Now....where was I again? Ah yes, the crime is that you didn’t allow Vitriol the chance to reach his full potential and because of that, he had to settle for a Buried Alive match....one that Golden Eagle himself made....against Priest instead of the opportunity to destroy five others to become World title contender.
That other false idol of evil Priest thinks he put down Vitriol forever then claims to walk through Hell and survive the undeniable suffering? He won’t know what Hell truly is until me and Vitriol show him the meaning of it. Until then, Golden Eagle will face our wrath for taking away Vitriol’s chance at leading MCW to a new age where evil and darkness reign and Segador will bear the brunt of our bile-filled rampage for being unlucky enough to be what Vitriol should be, the man who can cash in a World title shot whenever he feels.
As I said though bitch, you’ll get a special seat to view all of our carnage and we’ll see just how religious you really are.
Releasing her grip on Michelle’s face, Ambrosia smears some of the blood across the skin and onto Michelle’s lips, letting her taste it.
Ambrosia: Remember what this tastes like Denise because if you don’t show up to Mayhem like you’ve been ordered, my dad won’t even give you chance to feel the death blow and I will be standing right next to Vitriol enjoying every second.
She grins and walks over to where the rusty saw blade lies, picking it up and walking back to the table, handing it over to Vitriol and standing before him, her back against the chest of the masked monster while she tilts her head up enough to expose her throat while still able to see Michelle on the table. Without even a word of encouragement, Vitriol grips Ambrosia round the waist and holds the blades of the saw against her throat, Ambrosia merely laughing and finding the situation hilarious, noticing the look in Michelle’s eyes.
Ambrosia: Take a good look you plastic, populist whore. While you performed your quasi-evil act for the cameras and tried to put yourself across as unafraid, just your reactions to what I’ve done to you and the fact you flinched even though you knew Vitriol wouldn’t really slice off your head with that shovel. Look at me though, allowing Vitriol to do whatever he pleases and showing no fear in the face of death. Something fake little trollops like you would never understand.
Michelle stares as Vitriol pulls the blade closer against Ambrosia’s skin before moving it away, having proven their point to the blonde restrained to the cold metal table and Ambrosia moving to the table again. With one last vicious slap to the face, Ambrosia grins and both she and Vitriol start to unbuckle the thick leather restraints of the table, the blonde remaining perfectly still for fear of putting a step wrong before realizing the two are allowing her to leave of her own accord. Without a word uttered between them, the trio look at each other before Michelle quickly climbs off the table and runs without looking back, Ambrosia giving off another laugh as she watches Michelle leave, Vitriol himself standing looking after his former manager before turning to his new associate.
Ambrosia: That bitch will show up at Mayhem and when she does, we’ll teach her not to cross us.....