RP #4- "Killer Instinct"

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #4, 3/2/08]

At last. Blind Fury. My first Platinum PPV experience.

It's finally put-up or shut-up time. The last three matches might as well be considered practice matches in terms to the magnitude of this one. This is the one I finally prove once and for all what I'm all about. Bloodshed Championship, three of the names that have been making some serious noise in the past year. Toni Terror, Sean Williams, and none other than myself, SJ. Anything goes as long as somebody bleeds. Easily the highest stakes I've faced yet, and arguably the toughest competition I've had yet.

Sean Williams. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had to have seen this coming, mate. I did advise you in the leadup to our last match that a win on my part could easily result in me being thrown back at you with so much more on the line. Well, as it so happens, that is now a certified and undeniable truth. Whether you like it or not, regardless of how deserving you feel I am, I'm here once again, and this time I'm coming for your Bloodshed Championship.

Now, I'm going to deal with the easiest argument some are going to throw at me- 'but Steve, you're not a hardcore wrestler. You've always been an honorable man. You've never cheated to win your matches. Surely you don't have a chance at this one!'. And you know something, that's fair enough, particularly from the Platinum crowd who let's face it haven't seen me wrestle for very long. But allow me to say something right now- yes, I confine myself by the rules when there are rules in a match- but when there are no rules- well, what difference does it make? Is there anything left to tie me back? I don't avoid weapons because I feel squeamish about using them, I avoided them because I abode by the quasi-sacred laws of combat. As it so happens, I'm allowed to belt everything in sight with a chair, a trashcan lid, hell, a kitchen sink if I so choose.

If anything, I might just be that little bit more dangerous in this match than I would be in others. Even with rules in place, I'm pretty ruthless, very strategic and capitalize on any and all advantages given to me. Add that to a situation with weapons in it, and... yeah, suffice it to say if Toni or Sean are going to go into this thinking my honor code will be my downfall, they're going to look ridiculously stupid at the end of the match.

But back to you, Sean. Now, I know what's probably going to be running through your head- you're the champ, and you're never going to lose the title because you said so, yadda yadda yadda. Well, that's just fine, except that I'm saying the exact opposite- that you're title's coming with me. So clearly, your will's on one thing, and my will is on another. As it so happens, history indicates that when it comes to you wanting something and me wanting something, what I want happens.

I'm curious as to how you reacted to that past win, actually. When I managed to pull off a win and pretty much shocked everyone in Platinum, what went through your head? My experience tells me two things tend to happen in this situation- people either shrug it off as a fluke, or concede that maybe, just maybe, they got bested that particular night. Which one did you do, Sean? Did you cling to pride and ego and just assume it was a miraculous fluke that'd never happen again? Because I can tell you right now that if that's what you did and that's what you think of our last contest, you may as well just not bother showing up, because there's no way in hell you're walking out the champion.

If you thought I was the real deal, if you realized that maybe I was a little better than you and backstage gave me credit for... well, this could get interesting. Some of the same old tricks won't work for me. You'll be wiser to it, and as a result this could be a whole new ballgame. But I assure you of one thing, Sean- nobody's more of an example of learning through your experiences than I am, so don't expect me not to have anticipated that you'd be lifting your game. Because if you do think this isn't a fluke, then you will be hungry and you will be burning with the need to revalidate and redeem yourself by beating me. I know you would, because you're a competitor and an ambitious one. I'm both of those things and it's what I'd do.

With that said, you of all people know by now that I'm unrelenting and that I'm damn hard to actually put down in the ground. Those two traits are... not good to be going up against in this kind of match. I will not let up, I will not for one second give you the slightest second to recover if I can avoid it. You know these matches by now, I'd hope- it's all about inflicting colossal damage. Inflicting colossal damage's not much of a problem when you've got all kinds of weapons to add to a strong wrestling and martial arts base.

Basically, Sean, you've got a lot of catching up and a lot of compensating to do, because if anything I intend to come into this match several shades better than what I was the last time we fought. Forget everything we've been through in the past, because this is a whole new boardgame- a whole new level of ferocity and fury is going into this one. Get ready, champ, because you're about to be tested again- and this time, the ramifications are just that much more severe.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 11:30PM, Saturday 1 March, 2008
LOCATION: Onyx Lounge, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

"So this is the place Diablo's hanging at, then?" Dougy McNamara asked Steve as the two were waved into the main lounge floor of the Onyx Lounge- a somewhat small lounge club in the Philadelphia area.

Not quite on the scale of Club Lust- and not so frequented in the Philadelphia area- the Onyx Lounge was more of a quiet, ambient-style club, somewhere in the mix of bar, lounge and nightclub. Faint chillout-style music played from hidden speakers, allowing people to actually hear themselves speak. As the name indicated, there was a black onyx theme to the decorum around them, the tables and booths of the club coated over in a black, reflective marble-like surface- up to and including the bar on the far side of the room, which was currently being attended by a swathe of people enjoying various beverages. Unlike the tiki bar Steve had attended in the past, this one was definitely an up-market venue, with more than a few people in business suits. Even Dougy himself had been forced to pull a black jacket over his Hawaiian shirt to get in, and Steve himself wore a simple gray sportscoat, matching pants and a white undershirt with wayfarer sunglasses tucked into the collar.

"Think so. I imagine we'll find him at a table or a couch or something." Steve's eyes flickered over towards the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room, where the younger patrons of the club were trying- in vain, often- to dance in tune to ambient music, "Somehow I doubt the old man'll be over there with those lot."

"This better be worth it, mate..." Dougy murmured, "After having to wear this penguin-wear..."

He didn't get much further, as Steve's alert eyes suddenly picked up Jim Diablo. While he'd lost that ridiculous Southern suit in favor of a more sedate black Armani get-up, he was still a hard man to miss, over at a table near a balcony door overlooking the Philadelphia streets. Sure enough, a utilitarian-clad Sergei and elegantly-dressed Chanah were with him- as per usual. As Steve looked over his way, the older man caught sight of him, making eye contact with Steve for a second before waving him over. Steve nodded slightly to Dougy, then they made their way over towards the table. Chanah and Sergei nodded without a word, while an almost-too-bright smile worked its way onto Diablo's face as he spoke.

"Well, look who's here! Thanks for coming so promptly, SJ- and a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. McNamara. Take a seat, gentlemen."

"G'day." was Dougy's colloquial reply as he and Steve pulled out two chairs opposite Diablo- Steve sliding into his with grace, while Dougy simply flung down into his.

"What's going on, Diablo? I've got a match I'm supposed to be dedicating a hell of a lot of free time to..." Steve's return greeting was anything but gracious.

"I know, I apologize for that. I just felt it was important to... check in with you, so to speak."

"You and I both know there's more to it than that, Jim. Fancy being straight-up with me for a change?"

"You'll know in time. How have things been?"

"Busy. Mainly because ever since I've had this match announced, I've been stepping up my training regimen and running myself into the ground. I knew I was going to get some kind of payoff, but nothing this big." In spite of his previous lack of patience, Steve couldn't help but smirk at the mention of the upcoming match.

"Ah, yes. The match. I've been watching your affairs recently and I've found out a little about it. Bloodshed title, hmm? Doesn't sound like your usual thoroughfare. You're not normally the hardcore or extreme type. But I suppose you've already thought about that well ahead of schedule. Seems like you're facing an old opponent once again."

"Sean Williams? Well, he's the champ. It's only natural that I'd be fighting him again after beating him..." Steve deduced with a shrug.

"And there's somebody else, too..." Diablo's eyes lit up and a small, enigmatic smile worked its way onto his lips, as if he'd suddenly stumbled upon a point of great interest, "There's a young lady involved too, am I right?"

"That's right. She's earned it, from what I understand. Gender's got nothing to do with it, that woman's been staking the claim ever since she mopped a hospital floor with Kindred London's face. She's probably at least as deserving of the shot as I am. That's not to say I'm going to let her walk away with it for a second, mind you." A sly smirk crossed Steve's face at that. Diablo simply nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were taking it in, then cleared his throat.

"I see. Out of curiosity... would you call her pretty?"

That was a question that caused Steve to raise a brow slightly, shifting in his seat to regard the older man.

"That's not really relevant, is it, Jim? Combatants tend not to think about their opponents in that light..."

"Probably not, but I'd appreciate it if you answered the question." Jim folded his hands underneath him, then levelled his eyes directly at Steve as if to attempt Steve's own habit of staring an answer into his opponents, "Humor me, Steve."

"Eh. She's definitely not bad-looking..." Steve shrugged. As soon as he made that answer, Diablo suddenly rose up from his seat and backed away towards the crowd- Sergei and Chanah moving back with him. Steve blinked and also rose from his own booth, the crowd moving in around him as he did so. Diablo took that moment to speak.

"That's all I wanted to know. Sergei. Let's go."

"Was it something I said?" Steve blinked. Diablo didn't respond, backing further into the crowd with Sergei. He came to a stop on the very edge of the crowd, then turned and spoke over his shoulder.

"Chanah."

The second that was spoken, Chanah suddenly sprung into life, leaping towards Steve himself. Steve's hairs stood on end and an electric shock ran through his body as he sprung into action- that could only be an aggressive move. His eyes flickered at her, and it was only in a split second that he noticed the blade of a butterfly knife coming straight at him.

"What the fuck?!?" Steve could hear Dougy's voice ring out in alarmed surprise somewhere in the back of his head, but it was the least of his concerns right now- for his reflexes were suddenly lurching like an uncoiled spring, his mind racing at a mile a minute, and his ice-blue eyes flashing directly towards the reflective blade coming his way. All he could do was weave back with what very little personal space he had, his shoulders and back shoving somebody behind him aside as he barely evaded the stab attempt.

Why Chanah was doing this- and why Jim Diablo seemed to have commanded her to do it- was of little importance right now. Diablo and Sergei had already melted into the crowd, and time was already ticking down for him. That wasn't some clumsy stab attempt- this woman knew how to use a knife, and as a result it wouldn't take long before she tried to stab him again. As her hand flourished forward again to try to slash at Steve's new location, his hand suddenly sprung to life. He grabbed onto her arm, wrenched it forwards, and then, without a second's hesitation, brought his elbowblade smashing down onto it hard. Chanah's arm didn't break- probably just as well- but a startled cry of pain escaped her and her knife skittered out of her hands onto the floor beneath them.

All eyes were on the two of them now, a few worried exclamations filling the room- and more than a few enthused shouts of 'fight! fight! fight!'. Despite one of her arms being in pain, that didn't stop Chanah's other arm flaring out to jab at Steve's eyes- and only just missing, gouging at the point where his cheekbone met his eyelids. Steve grimaced from the stinging pain just below his eye, reaching out to catch Chanah's other hand- which she'd now recovered the use of and swung with a heavy punch at Steve. His cold, ice-blue eyes locked with her blazing dark eyes for the briefest of seconds, then Steve wasted no time lashing out with his own fist- straight into her gut.

The breath rushed out of her lungs and she doubled over- making it rather easy for Steve to capitalize and throw her off balance, spilling her onto the floor. Less than a second after, Steve's boot came to a stop right over her throat, as if to pin her to the ground. Her breathing became more shallow, and her dark eyes looked up at Steve as she struggled to move... then suddenly, to Steve's amazement, she nodded and raised her hands up in the air as if to submit.

[Five Minutes Later]

"Once again, I apologize..." Steve mumbled as he was roughly escorted out the back door of the club- herded by two hefty security guards, no less- out into the cold night air of one of Philadelphia's back alleys. His legs carefully shifted to make his way down the steps right outside the club's service entrance door, then finally set down on the rough concrete floor.

As one can no doubt deduce, the aftermath of the battle with Chanah ended as just about all fights inside clubs do- with swarms of security descending on anyone even remotely connected with the fight. Steve and Chanah had both been herded off in different directions, and he'd lost sight of her- and Dougy for that matter. But unlike most barfight combatants, Steve had gone quietly and with a certain sense of dignity- and as a result he was relatively unscathed as he stood out alone in the dimly lit alley, surrounded by crates, boxes and assorted unwanted trash from the club. There was only one way out, and that involved a long walk down a long alleyway full of ominous-looking steam.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone for long, as Dougy's form was literally thrown out the service door. He unceremoniously soared over the steps, a startled scream escaping him before he gracefully crash-landed on a pile of cardboard boxes, sprawling out throughout the wreckage as the service door finally slammed shut.

"You wankers!" Dougy bellowed at the now-locked service entrance, shaking his fist in a fit of rage at the bruisers who had just expelled the two men from the club, "Don't you know who I am? I'll have your badges for this, you incompetent trigger-happy knob-jockeys!"

"Eh, let it go..." Steve muttered to Dougy, turning to look around the alleyway, "We're lucky they didn't call the cops."

"But we didn't do anything wrong! You were just protecting yourself after that Chanah chick went absolutely PMS on us! Are you aware she tried to stab you?"

"The blade missed me by like a hair. I'm pretty sure I was aware of it. Still, security guards see people fighting in a club, they're not going to ask questions. Hell, we lucked out- they didn't try to beat all of us to a pulp for the privilege." Steve frowned in irritation, "Still, I'm annoyed Chanah slipped away. I'd like a bit of an explanation for that little bit of attempted homicide for apparently no reason..."

"And an explanation you shall have, son," Diablo's voice came down the alley like an echo, causing Steve to immediately rise up to his full height and bristle himself, adopting a ready shotokan stance. Sure enough, Jim Diablo himself emerged from the far end of the alley, with Sergei and a somewhat-recovered Chanah backing him up. In contrast to the outright hostility of the fight before, Diablo seemed to have a warm, friendly glow about him, and there was even a smile on his lips.

Dougy, unfortunately, was not so amused as he suddenly rose up out of the scattered trash around him.

"You're damn right we'll have an explanation! What the bloody hell do you think you were playing at, just ordering your girly-girl over there to try to kill Steve? After all he's done for you! And you..." he suddenly spun to point an accusing finger at Chanah, "Who lit the fuse on your tampon?"

"Dougy. Let me handle this." Contrary to Dougy's anger, Steve's reaction was icy cold as he took several steps towards Diablo. Chanah and Sergei both stood there ground, while Diablo simply kept the calm, almost serene smile on his face, apparently uncaring about the larger man bearing down on him. Steve kept stepping until there was a very negligible space between the men- easily enough for Steve to have grabbed Diablo's collar if he'd wanted to. His frosty gaze locked onto Diablo, and when he finally spoke again, it was calm.

"Five seconds, Jim. Start talking, while your larynx is still in one piece."

"You know, I've heard about what you're like when you're angry, Steve," Diablo replied calmly, "But I just had to see that icy rage for myself."

"You haven't even skimmed the surface, zippy. Talk."

"Alright, alright. I do owe you that much. Simply put, son... you passed."

"Passed?" Other than a brow raising, Steve showed no other emotion.

"One of the... benefits of my friendship is that I have certain ways to test you, son. Certain ways to be sure that you're ready for certain challenges. You might argue that this title match is your first major challenge. As it so happens, this is alien territory for you in a few ways, and there are a few things you're going to have to do that you've never had to do. I wanted to be certain you could do them."

"By having Chanah try to scalp me?"

"Chanah wouldn't have hurt you- not much. You wouldn't believe how well this woman is trained. But think about it, Steve. Chanah is a rather... attractive woman, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't see the relevance of the question." was Steve's stoic answer.

"She's not the only pretty girl you're going to have to deal with this week. And I know you and I know your past. You've fought women, but you've never been in a match where not only are you supposed to win, but you have to bloody your opponent up. For all your formidability in the ring, Steve, you are generally regarded as a 'nice guy'- or so your conduct backstage and outside the ring would indicate. Nice guys finish last. Particularly if they hold back when it comes to pretty girls."

"You're talking about Toni." Steve concluded.

"Well, I hardly think I was referring to Sean Williams." Diablo chuckled, stroking his chin, "You understand what I'm saying, though. In a situation like this, it's bleed someone or be made to bleed. You don't normally have to do that- you simply have to beat somebody, and you can use restraint there. This time, you can't use restraint- and I wanted to be certain that if you were cornered, you wouldn't be held back. That's why I had Chanah come at you."

"It was for your own good, Steve..." Chanah said almost apologetically.

"You are insane..." Dougy muttered in the background, "The three of you are all completely, utterly, batshit mental."

"No, just cold and relentless." Diablo corrected Dougy, "And that is what Steve has to be in a few days time. He must comprehend that he's not just going to have to beat people, he's going to have to make them bleed, and to do that he's going to have to literally beat them wide open. That's not easy to do. It requires a certain killer instinct that I wanted to be sure he would have- and that he wouldn't be... distracted."

"Yeah, well, as you can tell, it's not going to be a concern." Steve muttered gruffly, eyeing Diablo with still-present hostility, "Because you explained yourself, I'm going to allow you to go. But don't expect me to thank you for the learning experience."

"It's all right. I don't expect you to. I don't expect you to truly appreciate the nature of these lessons until you've tasted the fruits of their victory."

"That may be the case, but we won't know that for a few days. As it is..." Steve rose to his full height and stared the three down, "I think you'd better go, Diablo."

"Very well. Just think about this lesson today, think about the test you passed, and think about everything I've said. Remember that this won't be the last time you're going to have to steel yourself and do whatever it takes to gain a much needed victory. With that said... I will talk to you in the coming weeks, Steve."

"Great. That's just fan-bloody-tastic..." Dougy spoke up. Steve himself didn't reply, and as promised, Diablo turned to leave, tipping his hat and snapping his fingers as Chanah and Sergei moved to the side to allow him to leave. As he passed through, they formed up behind him as they quickly disappeared into the fog clouding up most of the alley, fading from vision and vanishing into obscurity. As soon as they were gone, Steve and Dougy glanced at each other.

"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but I don't think I really wanna be your classmate for any more of these little 'lessons'."

"Certainly makes a change to City Beach High..." Steve admitted, wincing and shifting his shoulders slightly, "You alright?"

"Just a bit scuffed from those pricks throwing us out. But I tell you what, mate, I think I'm going to call it a night after that."

"That'd make two of us..." Steve chuckled and shook his head, "You want a lift back to your place?"

"Appreciate it, mate. You good to drive, though? I mean... that whole thing must have shook you up something fierce. Being jumped basically because of something you said, and then being told it was a 'test'."

To say Steve was shaken up was... well, not completely accurate. He was still feeling alert from the fight, and his mind was still reeling at Diablo's revealed reasons for the attack. A test? To see if he'd have the killer instinct to make a young, attractive woman bleed? If it was necessary, then Steve would do it, it was that simple- that had always been foremost in his mind. Everybody entering the match knew what was awaiting them and knew what the risks were and what had to be done to win. Making someone bleed was primal by its very nature and went a step above regular combat, but in Steve's mind, it was still a means to an end that was unavoidable. It really didn't matter who was on the wrong end of that bleeding, whether male or female. They were both combatants, after all.

Nevertheless, the fact that some independent party had just decided to randomly test Steve on the fact left him... chilled. Who was Diablo to think he could just do that- and how much more would Steve have to expect from him? Would he interfere in Steve's business and impose tests and visits every time he saw fit? Would he keep tabs on people Steve knew- as he'd done with Jem- just to keep up with Steve? Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that.

But he'd get by.

"Yeah, mate. I'm good. Let's just get going, shall we? I'd like to put this joint behind me."

Dougy nodded, and with no further adieu, the two made their way up the alley towards the main streets. Steve paused briefly after taking a few steps, turning to take one look back at the scattered boxes and crates around the service entrance of the club that had been the site of so much drama and intrigue that night...

...and then disappeared into the fog.

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #4, 3/2/08]

That brings me to you, Toni Terror.

Unlike my other opponent, I think it's quite safe to say that you and I are strangers to each other. We've never fought against each other, we've never fought alongside each other, hell, we've never even really spoken a word to each other backstage. Up until this point, our paths have never really crossed- which is fair enough. You had your own thing going, and I had my thing going.

Although one could argue that the seeds for some kind of collision between the two of us were lain when we both made our own individual statements about Sean Williams' Bloodshed title. You made your intentions pretty damn clear when you paraded around with the title belt and more or less flat out said you were coming for it, and I proved I was worthy when I beat Sean personally. Once either of us did that, it was more or less inevitable that we'd clash sooner or later. Either one of us would be the champ and the other would be the contender, or one of us would have to claw the other out of the way to get to Sean. As it so happens, this match's a little bit of both.

But back to the main point. Up into now, we never really collided- but that doesn't mean for a second that I've been ignorant to you. I haven't been living in some personal bubble where I'm completely oblivious to you and the trail you've been blazing up and down PDW in the past several weeks. I've been watching- and to be honest, I've been preparing for this moment.

More than that. I've been watching your matches with great interest over the past few weeks, and I will candidly admit one thing: Toni Terror- you impress me. That's about the nicest thing I've said to any of my opponents, by the way. Darkside didn't get that. Sean Williams himself didn't get that. Hannah and Joseph St. John didn't get that. Not that I'm trying to butter you up or anything- that's pretty much an exercise in futility when the stakes are so high and when we'll be forced to literally batter each other bloody.

But nevertheless, it's true. There are only a handful of people in PDW right now who can admit that they are not just on a roll, but that the last month has been absolutely flawproof for them. I'm one. You're another. And I'll admit, you've earned it. That number you pulled on Kindred London? Taking down Joshua Payne and Ice? Flattening Bliss Taylor and coming out without a scratch? Formidable stuff. We're going to say a lot of things to each other over the next week and a bit, and some of it probably won't be very nice, but I want one thing on record now, Toni- I do believe you could quite possibly be the toughest opponent I've faced yet. Possibly. Sean might have a few surprises up his sleeve yet, so don't go jumping for joy, but the potential's there, kid.

With that said, don't expect an easy fight from me. I'm not living in some kind of MTV-inspired dreamworld like Kindred London. I'm not washed up like Ice was. And I'm not having a hard time keeping it together like Bliss is. Not to devalue your victories on them, but I will be a much tougher nut to crack. Sean found that out last time we had it out, but I can't help but wonder if you're a little smarter than that. I know damn well what I'm doing, and I'll be going into this match using my head as well as my body. And trust me, when it comes down to weapons flying left right and center, being two steps ahead is a damn big advantage. All bets are off, Toni- they're saying this one's going to be the biggest contest for all three of us to date, and I at least intend on making damn certain it's true- for Sean and for you.

There's been some debate over which of us deserves this shot more since I got thrown into this match. Some people think that since I was the man who beat Sean, I've got more credentials to be fighting, while some people think you've been building up to this for longer. Honestly, both points are good- but to me, it doesn't really matter. Whether you deserve the shot more or whether I deserve the shot more doesn't really matter to me. We're both here- and I imagine we'll be answering the question ourselves in the ring. I guess if one of us stands victorious at the end of the match, we'll have answered the question.

Don't expect me to show any remorse, or to relent the slightest bit. With all the respect for your skill I have, I'll still be doing whatever's necessary to get that win. You knew the risks when you started your chase of the Bloodshed title, and you accepted them freely. Whatever you may be- young woman, impressive talent, anything- is now irrelevant. You're now just another objective, Toni Terror- as is Sean- and I intend on bringing all that I have to negate the both of you. Put quite simply, I intend to introduce the two of you to a little thing called... killer instinct.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!