No. He's not Cole Marr.
He stares with soulless eyes into the reflection glaring back at him, the dark wizard Marr seeing nothing more than a shadow of his former self in the wavering image before his eyes. Ripples run through the crystal clear lake as a long sigh escapes from the darkest depths within him, the magic energies surrounding the man warping the lines of reality around him.
He had done everything he could in these lands, fought as hard as he could in the ongoing war throughout the five kingdoms, but... in the end, even his powerful magics could do nothing against the might of their armies. A sputtering cough escapes his lips, staining the crystal lake crimson below him as a chunk of black blood erupts from his throat.
Sputtering and hacking, the dark wizard Marr drops to his knees, holding at his throat in pain and squinting through tortured eyes at the reflection left still in the lake, glaring back at him in disgust. His past, his accomplishments leading up to this moment... in the end they were looking up at him with contempt, a disappointed realization that, in the end, this was what he was destined to become despite them.
"It wasn't meant to end this way!" he cries out to the shadows around him, his voice a raspy mess from the blood forcing its way up, as his dark robes began to soak up the blood from the wounds on his body. The sounds of his suffering carried all throughout the lands, his deathcries as loud as his battlecries were not all too long ago.
"Oh, but my dear wizard... of course it was."
The dark wizard's breath caught in his blood-filled throat as he turned, looking back at the giant of a man with the chesire grin standing behind him, sword drawn at at the ready. Grimacing in pain, the dark wizard Marr weakly lifted a hand, ready to cast his magics one final time.
And then, in his final moments...
... he lost his damn head.
What's there to say about Cole Marr's chances this Sunday in the Chaotic Cage? He's the dark horse, the rookie that no-one saw getting past Frank Merritt to make it into one of the most packed main events the NLCW's seen this year. He's that kid with everything to prove and nothing to lose, and, above all else?
He's fucking screwed.
Let's get down to it right away: I don't know who the fuck you think you are, Marr, but if you were looking for the set to fucking Twilight, then you've came to the wrong place. As it stands, you at least did something all the sterotypical little goths aspire to do: you've made your way to the pit of hell itself, and now? You're about to go head-on against the enraged denizens of the land set to go to war with one another.
I hate to say it though, kid, but your glittery ass isn't getting far in this thing. See, you did something decently impressive in its own right to get here, and you deserve some credit for that. You beat Frank Merritt. Congratulations. I've beaten him, like, five fucking times or something though, so if you're looking for the fear in my eyes because of it you're going to be disappointed.
I mean, Jesus Christ, kid... look at yourself. You seriously think you're about to make me afraid of you? You seriously think you're capable of introducing any tangible form of sorrow into my life?! I've heard of illusions of grandeur before-- fuck, my best friend is Chris Champion after all-- but that... that's nearly impressive is what it is.
And don't get me started on your little mouth-piece in the background... I don't know how many people named "Easy E" I have or will have had to be forced to encounter in this career of mine (three so far), but if he actually thinks he's packing anything resembling a sharp tongue in that mouth of his, he may well have more illusions of gradeur than even you, Cole.
Listen, Easy, you little slimy piece of shit, I'd like to think I've played this game long enough in my career to know when not to underestimate or count out the guy across the ring from me, so I don't need your happy little ass trying to tell me not to do it.
Don't worry, kid, I'm not going to underestimate your little emo boy over there... far as I'm concerned, I know exactly what to expect from him. Shit, even if I compensate and predict a career best from the kid, I still don't have anything to worry about... but, hey, I'm at least giving him a fighting chance, aren't I? And before you piss yourself over the nerve I must have to talk about "The Sorrow" that way... let me remind you that, at the end of the night on Sunday?
Marr won't mean shit in the Undisputed Title scene, and with you acting as his voice, you'll be worth even less. See, I'm not surprised why you'd want him to win so badly, E... after all, if his ass drops in the first round of our little six-man fight this Sunday, it just makes you the cheerleader of a struggling goldfish in an ocean filled with sharks, and no-one wants to be that person. See, and what works best for you is the fact that even I can't say that Marr's going out in the first round... for all I know, he might make it all the way to the final three.
But as far as him having a fighting chance against a guy like Champion, let alone a guy like me?
Yeah, no, not happening.
See, what the two of you fail to realize is that I've been through more hell than the two of you could ever fucking comprehend. We're not talking the "WHY DOES NO-ONE LOVE ME" kind-of hell the two of you represent, either... I had to sit through one of the loves of my life passing away from an accident I'd barely managed to survive, nevermind the fact that the story nearly repeated itself with Suki only a few years ago. I've lost friends throughout my life, family... fuck's sake, you stupid little shits, my best friend is dying on live television every week.
You seriously think anything you can do to me in that fucking ring is going to compare to that? You're out of your fucking minds.
I've pulled my ass out of a sorrowful state more times than either of you have even set foot in the fucking ring, and there's a reason why I'm set for life now because of it: I never. Fucking. Quit.
So guess again, dumbass... you're not even getting anywhere close to this title of mine.