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 “And now I present to you: Reality”

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Posts : 6
Join date : 2017-05-07

PostSubject: “And now I present to you: Reality”   Thu May 11, 2017 6:38 am

Introduction / Match Promo

As it has done for weeks, months, into years, the video presentation began with the presentation of rolling darkness, the impossibility of there being exactly no light in this strange world taking it's grip on the minds of the viewers, their thoughts slowly disappearing into the very shadows they peered into. They were soon released by the intense and abrupt blast of static through the darkness, the light blinding to them as some covered their eyes, others averting their gaze to avoid visual damage. The burning remained on the screen for a few passing seconds, settling its dominance and satisfying it's need of the suffering of the unsuspecting fans, before disappearing back into the darkness it had been born from, but this black was a new sight form before. This one seemed.............alive.

Specks of dust, miniscule and pointless, fluttered through the air, each one dancing as a moth on wind, performing its very own ballet. What little light to be seen came from an unknown source out of our sight, the silence painful, broken by the definite beat of footsteps, but oddly enough, they held no owner.

Distortion came once again.

Static surrounded the edges, then dissipated, once again appearing in the center of the video, then leaving us again. Once more it took, while the static burned it began to inverted, going negative to the human eye, then returning, now being accompanied by the voice of one particular "Creature". With every word he spoke, it seemed as a hundred more followed, the words echoing into the shadows.

"Power is an illusion. There is no true dominant force in the world. Not one being is superior to another by genetics or birthright. It is not where you are that makes you, it is not what you have. You are not your material possessions. It is the one who can manipulate these genetics, use them to their advantage. Those are the superior beings. Those are the most powerful."

His voice boomed outward, the shadows being replaced by various greyscaled clips of tortured souls from droughts, plagues, wars, and other times of human disaster. Dirty, diseased people in torn rags cry to the heavens, a single blood shot eye opened into the lens of the camera, a tear descending down it's wrinkled cheek, going negative hlf-way through it, and disappearing.

The camera returned to the darkness, now capturing a single chair sitting within the perimeter of the room, the seat serving as a thrown for the self-proclaimed "King" that sat upon it. A hood fell over the man's face, though his identity as Brandon Siomas was given away long before by the static, the fear, and the fact that his entire outfit, from head to toe, was split down the middle by two colors, the left-side a blank white, the symbol of purity, the right, black like some would argue his very soul. He hunched forward, his long coat flowing underneath his seated body, over his form. He wore a very similar buttoned shirt and tie, both dual-colored like the strange video before his disappearance on Overdrive, a feat still shrouded in mystery, as well as the same pants and shoes.

"The World is an Illusion. Nothing around you is real, or will ever be real as long as you will it so. They will be done. Most are too weak-minded to see that this world is our tool to use as we see fit. I see this as my weapon. This is my world, and I can and will do whatever I wish."

Static took the screen again, leaving as now the chair stood alone, Siomas nowhere to be found. Static once again, first a clip of a face reduced to manic laughter and fading into nothing, and then there he was, no facing away from the camera, his jacket removed to reveal the collar of his shirt, his eyes covered by his signature aviator shades. He looked over the white-half of his clothing, his emotions masked away.

"Good and Evil are illusions. These sides that man have set up upon the world to make themselves look better, and to ignore their true animalistic nature. There is no good or evil in this world, only things we can handle and things we are too weak to understand. I refuse to see this lie, I blur the line. I am the balance of all that is good...........and all that is evil."

The clip cut away, now to the sight of what could only be described as a human skull, crawling across it, a venomous tarantula, each one of its eight legs creeping with wicked intent. Half-way through, the camera cut to a negative view for exactly three seconds, the camera shuddering to add effect, then returning to a normal view, then back to the sight of Brandon Siomas.

"In order to preserve the order in this world, to save the only land I've ever taken in as my own in XHW, I must take a side. I take the side of order, the side of justice. I am the light, or perhaps the darkness. To XHW, we are the crusaders. This plague, the renegades, resides in the dark, only leaving it to strike. It will be purged, delivered by the light. I am the light......."

Suddenly, the darkness surrounding began to leave as a small glimmer of light appeared at the bottom of the room, revealing the concrete floors. The light rose, expanding upward, engulfing the room as Siomas's figure disappeared into the blinding flash, the entire screen going white as his voice boomed one last time.

"I am the cure."

-Fade, End Scene 1-
We open again to the next scene of our two part presentation. This new scene was that of a small room, dimly lit from the hovering lamp ahead. A single bulb, blackened at the bottom to avoid too much of a glare, hung just a bit lower than the top of the lampshade. A cone of orange light took center place in the room, like a spotlight upon a Broadway stage. In the center of this illuminecent spectacle, sat Siomas. Ahead of him, placed without care on a makeshift table of a cardboard box and a small piece of plywood, sat a chessboard. Siomas's chin rested in the arch of his right hand between his thumb and index finger. The black X tattoo on his hand, just as in the rain before, gleamed in the spotlight. Siomas's cold, gray eyes remained fixed upon the game he had been, according to the lack of pieces on the board, been playing against himself for quite some time.

"They call the sport of professional wrestling a game of human chess. Hehehe, I find that so amusing, and so fitting. Each and everyone one of us in this game, as well as life, is just one piece on a chess board, ready to be moved into position by whatever higher power seems to control us at the current moment. That's all we are, nothing more, nothing less."

Siomas, now assure with a move, selected a piece, sliding it into position, and returning his hand back to his chin, now resting his elbow on his right knee. He scanned the board, running through various moves he could make in the endless archives of his mind, and discarding them in breakneck speeds. Dozens and dozens of plays, filing in and filing out, until finally he decided on another. Reaching over, he now grabbed an opposing white piece, moving it where he saw fit.

"The only difference between us is our rank. Life is full of wise bishops, sturdy rooks, chivalrous knights, but sadly, the majority of you all are no more than simple pawns. Pawns, used essentially for distraction, for sacrifice, or to make the moves that are not worth those of the more important pieces. No more than pawns, but few or you can come to grips with that. The fact that, whether you like it or not, your worth is limited."

The lamp overhead continued to rock back and forth, almost undetectably, but enough to give a funhouse sort of effect on the room around Siomas. He had now switched roles, playing as the black pieces again. Now he struggled for a new play, as if in this state of mind he had forgotten everything about his last play. Like he was in all truth facing another person.

But in life, we always find that pawn who just won't lay down and decides that if he cannot be better, he will pretend to be better. He will take the role of a higher force, without actually becoming said force. My example, you may wish to know, is my opponent this week at Fallout, Logan Burgess, the self-professed “King of strong style”. Because that’s so original, right? –Siomas smirks-

Brandon shuddered, like the weight of those words hit him hard on the shoulders, pushing him down, torturing his very warrior soul. Those words burned his tongue.

Logan I’ve know you for a while now and I’ve seen you talk and talk over and over about how you are going to “Kick some ass” or “Knock someone’s teeth down their throats”. It gets old, Logan. As far as I am concerned you’re not even a threat. Just like in the game of Chess, no matter how many moves you make, no matter how many pieces you remove from the game board, you're still just a little, useless pawn. You've seemed to have lost sight of that.

Siomas made his move, knocking a piece off of the board too fast to register what it was. It was flung out of sight, into the shadows past the boundaries of the precious light. A tap, a roll, and the piece was gone.


He swapped minds again, now going on the defensive. A cringe in the cheek, and his nervs were seemingly getting the best of him. curling his hand into a Fist, he now rested his temple upon it.

"Lucky for you, though, Timmons, your undesrved glory and swelling pride will be shot down before it ever has a chance to grow. You see, the powers that be, the hands that have pushed your piece out into the upon have set you in line to do battle with myself. In a sick way of thinking of things, they've cursed you. Hahahaha, you have no idea of what punishment awaits you. What suffering you will endure. It's hilarious to me, simply because of how unfortunate you are. How innocent you are, to be thrown to the wolf like this! I almost feel, well, sorry for you.......almost. You won't exactly like these words, as I'm guesing by now you're already losing your cool, so to speak, but I am not without praise. Logan, there is nothing that can save you, no title reigns, no near victories, not even your tag-team partner."

After a quick move, Brandon gripped a black piece. A smirk crossed his face, he had the king in sight, and it was over.

"Come Fallout, Logan, you will be faced with the real king of XHW, as well as his army of followers and loyal servants, and just like that idiotic egg who decided to sit upon a wall that fateful day, all of the kings horses, and all of the kings men, will not be able to put you back together again.”

A clang between pieces of marble, and the white king fell to the floor. The impact, too great for the fragile piece, shattered the king into shards on the hardwood floor. Once a powerful king, now a mess of a broken power.


Siomas's head remained down, the camera now pulling back as the light above flickered. A shattering sound pierced our ears, and the light went out, plunging the world around "The Enigmatic Creature" into complete and total darkness.

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