Post by Damon Graves on Sept 16, 2017 11:44:33 GMT -5
Scene fades in on the interior of an old warehouse, where a few fluorescent light fixtures dangle from the rafters, flickering occasionally as they shine down upon a nearly empty wrestling ring. Three red and black letters can be seen printed upon the old, dust-colored apron:
The reason the ring isn’t completely empty? A large, lone figure dressed in black, sitting on a crate placed in the center of the ring, a burlap sack resting beside him. The camera rotates around the ring, continuously focused on the figure, ultimately revealing the face of the legendary wrestler-turned trainer, Jason “Devastator” Perry. Upon seeing the camera, he shoots a stony glare through the lens and stands up.
Jason: Less than a week, Malone….
Less than 7 days before you face me and my friend here…..
Jason bends down and reaches into the sack, pulling up a length of thick steel chain. Dangling from either end are short leather straps secured with stout metal buckles.
Jason: Granted, this isn't Ugly Betty, but on this occasion, I felt that an even greater level of mayhem was in order. Convergence needed something special, and I have that something special, right here in my hands. Normally, I would have gone with a bullrope, Gray. After all, I've never been beaten in a Bullrope match. Think about that, sunshine; in a nearly 30 year career, I've never tasted defeat once me and some poor bastard got shackled together. Every single person I've faced with Ugly Betty left a broken, bloody mess…
So why would I use a steel chain instead? Like you, the answer’s simple. Steel hurts a hell of a lot more when you get cracked in the jaw with it.
Jason brings the steel chain closer to the camera lens.
Jason: Just imagine each individual link as a weapon, capable of bruising flesh and shattering bone, Malone. Let that sink into your head, jackass, because that's exactly what I intend to do…
A twisted grin crosses the face of the 2-time Hall of Famer as he continues to gaze at the heavy implement in his hands.
Jason: People might wonder why I chose this kind of match. From their point of view, I'm just some middle aged hasbeen that hasn't wrestled an actual match in over a year. But anyone that knows me at all knows that I don't give two shits about what other people think. No, I wanted the whole world to see that you have absolutely no control over what will happen to you at Convergence. Then again, that isn't anything new to you, is it, Gray? All over the internet, fans have been hitting up sites that have footage of our past encounters, watching me humiliate you time after time.
What makes you think that this time will be any different? Do you think breaking some kid's arm and giving him a concussion is going to intimidate me? Fat fucking chance, pal. I've already taken your best on a number of occasions and laughed in your face. You aren't going to convince me that you've gotten any better since the last time I whooped the living piss out of you, because I do my homework, Malone. I made sure to keep you on my radar, even before I decided to tear you a new asshole.
As he continues to speak, the smile slowly disappears from his face, replaced by an expression of pure contempt.
Jason: It's the same tired bullshit you spewed back in the Asylum Wrestling Alliance… “I'm the King of Damage… blah blah blah…”; You promise destruction on anybody that gets near you one day, then squirt out some lame-ass apology the next. You flip more times than a fucking nickel, which is more than I'd give for your chances at Convergence.
Your act is as tired as the lame-ass “old man” jokes you’ve been hurling at me ever since the first time we tangled in the ring. Well, this Sunday, Malone, this “decrepit old man” is gonna beat your ass from one corner of the ring to the next, until there’s nothing left of you but a bloody heap of shattered bones and mangled flesh, and I won’t lose a wink of sleep after I watch them scrape your ass off the canvas.
Gray, you have this nasty habit of making yourself the most hated person in professional wrestling. Time and time again, you alienate everyone that has the misfortune of talking to you, only to turn around and have the unmitigated audacity to act like the poor, defenseless victim. “Poor old Gray… no one wants to stroke my ego so I’m just gonna go over here and sulk in the shadows.” Then you pop right back up again, acting like the world owes you just for the fact that you exist.
Jason walks toward the center of the ring, slinging the steel chain over his shoulder and kicking the crate over. As it clatters against the turnbuckle, he scoffs.
Jason: You know what? Fuck you, Gray. And more importantly, fuck your little one-man pity party! Everyone is sick and tired of hearing you run your mouth. Everything that I’m about to do to you this Sunday, you’ve brought it upon yourself. Me? I’m just doing the entire professional wrestling world a favor and doing something I’m sure they’d all love to do, and that’s beat you within an inch of your miserable life!
So go right ahead and run that sewer of a mouth of yours about how my wife and kids are going to look at me differently after seeing what I do to you. You and I both know you’re full of shit, and I’m about to show everyone just how full of it you really are.
This Sunday at Convergence, you can promise all of the destruction you want, but I can guaran-fucking-tee that it won’t be you delivering on that promise. Devlin Scott can fucking bill me for the cost of one shit-stained canvas. Hell, I’ll spring for a whole new fucking ring if he wants. But your medical bills?
The raven-haired titan shakes his head, letting out a dark chuckle as he walks past the camera and out of the ring.
Jason: Nope. Not this time. That narcissistic shitbag is on his own. I’m sure he’d prefer it that way, anyway….
Off in the distance, the silhouette of a woman stands in a doorway. Jason looks in her direction and nods his head.
Jason: I got what I came for, Alicia. Let’s get the fuck out of here.
Alicia: Good. There are just… too many ghosts here.
Alicia shudders, rubbing her arms as Jason walks up beside her. He puts a hand on the shoulder of his wife, leaning in to kiss her on the top of her head.
Jason: Well, then… time to send ONE ghost back to hell where he belongs….
With that, husband and wife walk out of the warehouse arm in arm, the chain rattling with each step.
Fade to black.
