"Andrew Bishop thought he could beat me by just... saying that I am. By believing that my past, though not in McW... didn't matter. Andrew Bishop thought being McW's former champion entitled him to a victory against me." Cyrus laughed, looking at a different wall than before. "Andrew bishop... will never make that... mistake... again. In fact, he will never make any mistake again, because he may never... walk... again."
Cyrus digs his finger into the ground, pulling up one of the stones from the earth. Hundreds, almost thousands of maggots and other creepy, crawly insects scatter. Cyrus coos, practically giggling, picking up one of the rot promoting creatures, examining it in the darkness.
"Everyone in McW seems too... pussy whipped... to notice anything but themselves. To notice the things going on around them. They're too busy to see the way that I manhandled DareDevil like a Raggidy Ann doll. They don't want to talk about the way that I sidelined Andrew Bishop..." Cyrus grinned. "...forever. They ignore it. They ignore the things that scare them. They ignore the one man that could crush them."
Cyrus squeezes the maggot between his index finger and thumb, listening to it explode and examining the remains for a second before talking
"They don't care to think what their bodies could end up as. They could become a bloody, broken heap of bone and tendons like Andrew Bishop, or..." Cyrus spreads his fingers, smelling the foul aroma the juice expels, "...or worse."
Cyrus chuckles, before turning to the camera. He flips one of the switches, and a light turns on almost burning his face. Cyrus doesn't flinch, almost accepting the uncomfortably bright light. Standing, he puts the camera on a tripod and steps back in front of what looks like a dungeon or a sort of holding cell. Just another room in the Cathedral.
"But my opponent this week, Steven Xavior, isn't like Andrew Bishop. He isn't like Dante Gein, Groond, Freddy Ryder or... DareDevil..." Cyrus chuckles, "Steven Xavior is a whole 'nother breed of man. He has his sights set on bigger things than some... bimbo's tits." He grins. "Steven Xavior won't be afraid to let my name slip from his lips."
Cyrus wipes his hands together, then down the front of his blue jeans. Smiling, he rubs the beard he started to grow since his McW signing. Turning on his heels, Cyrus paces back and forth, listening to the exoskeletons of the bugs crush under his feet with childish glee.
"Steven Xavior is a fierce competitor. He isn't old, worn down and on his last leg trying to make amends for a past life that he regrets. He doesn't have a strange infatuation with someone in McW management because of a past discrepancy. Steven Xavior knows what it takes to win matches..." Cyrus pauses, before looking at the camera. "Minding his own business, keeping his hands to himself... being a fan favorite; that's what works for him. When the fans are on his side, that's where he gets HIS drive."
Cyrus grins, continuing to pace.
"He doesn't spook. He knows that I am nothing to be afraid of - that I'm just another face on the roster, collecting a pay check like any of you. Just another... body. Or... Or he knows that I'm not just another person on the roster, and that he has to come into our match prepared for the worst, hoping for the best and expecting something in between." A grin towards the camera. "He knows what to do to best prepare for any match that he is in, at any given time of his career."
Cyrus nods.
"He is almost... flawless. That is why this match will be all the more... fun... for me." Cyrus smiles, his left cheek raising with the grin. "Destroying Steven Xavior, McW's Steven Xavior, will be a rush... an adrenaline high that nobody, nothing could ever come close to. Steven Xavior is McW's Mona Lisa... and I will tare through him like a buzz saw, just to make sure that everyone knows who Cyrus O'Haire is to McW."
Cyrus grins, turning the camera and stopping.
"It would be a lie to say that I don't like... winning. Everyone likes winning, Steven Xavior. But beating someone that you respect, someone that you... enjoy competing against - someone that you know prepares for his matches better than anyone in the business... that's otherwise unachievable." Cyrus grinned. "Knowing that you'll be in this match, 100 percent - with no outside distractions... the butterflies in my stomach dance upon my bladder, Steven. I'm excited..."
Cyrus smiles, reaching behind the doorway and grabbing a whip from the wall. As he brings it to his chest, he starts to count the frills at the end of the whip; Two, four, six, eight... a Cat O' Nine Tails whip. Cyrus smirks to himself, feeling up one of the leather tails to the end, where a sharp blade protrudes itself from the material.
"I am excited to know that you could be the one that... changes me. You could be the one that I face at Resurrection for the McW Championship; I'm excited to know that... I could start the inevitable demise of McW's golden boy." Cyrus whips the Cat-O'-Nine-Tails against the wall, sending pieces of the rock flying. "That I could be the one to break not one... but two former McW champions in back-to-back weeks."
Cyrus smiles as a rat scurries across his feet. Cyrus looks down at it quickly, then back at the camera, though his head never moves... just his eyes.
"That kind of power... that's a rush, Steven. And that's a rush that I won't take lightly... that I won't take for granted. Beating you is something that I won't take for granted."
Cyrus walks to the camera, his head still pointed down and his eyes towards the ceiling.
"And if you're smart, you won't take me for granted, either."
Cyrus smiled for a split second before turning the camera off.
Instant black.
