Post by JMav/JGold/RNorth/MKarloff on Nov 20, 2016 11:19:07 GMT -5
MARTIN KARLOFF
The Gospel of Fear
We find ourselves in a church congregation....but a congregation unlike any you have ever seen. Every audience member is deformed , monstrous, or misshapen in some way (due to practical special effects, but still a very disquieting sight.) The crowd talks amongst themselves quietly.
“Please rise for the Monster Messiah.” An attendant with no eyes says. The crowd falls silent and stands.
Martin Karloff emerges from behind a curtain with a book tucked under his arm. He is wearing the full accoutrements of a priest, though it is spattered with blood.
“Please be seated and turn to the book of the King in Crimson” Martin says. The congregation opens their 'Bibles', though a few with torture implements where their hands should be require aid in opening their books.
“And lo the Scarlet Spirit told his people, keep holy Fear for that Fear is pure. Be not afraid to Fear even as you spread fear, for no matter how much one studies a beast they have no true understanding of that beast until they are face-to-face with it.” Martin Karloff says before closing the book.
“There is a question I ask many of my opponents. A question many construe as a threat and as we are to engage in combat they are welcome to construe it as such but that is not at ALL the reason I ask it. You see, often times I ask my opponents what they are afraid of. It is a very simple question that is oftentimes dismissed by them as a way of 'keeping their cool' because professional wrestling is an industry in which any display of emotion that isn't 'passive self-absorption and sarcasm' is attacked with confusing vitriol. A whole sea of men and women afraid to be human. No....when I ask Freddie Styles this week what he is afraid of, I do so with humility and respect. I do so because to know your own fear is to know yourself and to know yourself is to improve yourself. Richard Devereaux did not seek self improvement and for all of his bluster he got to spend these intervening days between matches attempting to piece together the scattered contents of his skull whilst clinging to a title he clearly does not deserve.” Martin says as he stands at his pulpit.
“Freddie Styles will claim to have no fear, only the same boring desire for wealth and championships that drives every fool in this industry. This is not true motivation. Freddie is just another vessel for the same bravado and talk of superiority that has attached itself to professional wrestling in the same manner a tumor would. It is killing the host, but I fancy myself something of a surgeon in this regard. He will claim he is unafraid, but so did Richard Devereaux... to correct this I must give him something to be afraid of. That is the only logical course of action because I care about Freddie. Aren't I just the nicest guy?” Martin says. Martin is about to continue when a man is wheeled up in a wheelchair. He is seemingly there against his will.
“What is your name, sir?” Martin asks. The man doesn't answer.
“Now, a member of my congregation brought you here today. Do you know why?” Martin asks.
“Because I'm not afraid.” The man says quietly. The congregation gasps and talks amongst themselves, a particularly attractive pale woman with fangs faints and is caught by several men. Martin closes the 'Bible' and removes his jacket, rolling up his sleeves. He places his hand on the mans head.
“Crimson Spirit, heal this man. Show this man the darkness. Show this man the power that helped an impossible turd of a human become President of the United States. Show this man that a night terror is better than any cup of coffee. Sir, I want you be afraid.” Martin says. His hand on the mans head begins shaking and Martin surges his hand forward, shaking the man.
“Be afraid....Be afraid! BE AFRAID!” Martin says. The man breaks down and starts screaming in terror. The congregation cheers as the man crumbles in fear.
“Rejoice Redemption Wrestling! I bring you your salvation and the only form of prayer you need bring is a scream. Tell me, Freddie Styles.... what are you afraid of?” Martin asks with a wicked smile.
-END-
