[#005] BEFORE THEY TAKE YOU.

❝ BEFORE THEY TAKE YOU. ❞
vs Allen Chaney and Issak Otto, Angel and Lachlan Kane⠀//⠀VICTORY XVII: CALL YOUR FIRST SHOT.⠀//⠀#005

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The dreaded red sky watched over the city of New London, giving off a demanding feel as if someone or something is staring right back at those who dare to look up towards the clouds, and that’s exactly how Meliodas feels as they stared right into the darkened red sky. From the top of The Shard, now turned into a base of operations concerning this anomaly over their heads, were all of the World Guardians looking up towards the sky from the view of an office window. There were some unknown faces around, all trying to get their chance to look up, but the one notable face around just so happened to be Meliodas themselves. They began to shake their head and walked away from the window, a slightly disgusted feeling settling in their stomach, and walked out of the office room where – at least – ten to fifteen people had all gathered up to look up into the sky.

It’s been months since this anomaly showed up out of nowhere, completely taking over the sky — never mattered whether it was the day or the night, the sky stayed in that darkened shade of red hue — and still, there’s no motion as to what’s happening from the other side of this unknown spectacle. There’s still no idea as to what is on the other side of those red clouds and it worries Meliodas a lot, something they’re very clearly not used to feeling at all, and feels as if they’re going completely psycho. They sighed as they walked down a hall and into another office room, which is much emptier than the previous one that he was just in, closing the door behind them and finally finding themselves in peace and silence. A deep exhale through their lips.

‘Where have you banished him to?’ The voice came out of nowhere, completely shocking Meliodas as they began to spin around on the spot, trying to find out where that faint voice came from. They seem completely spooked by the phenomenon, about to run out of the room but the door won’t open, and the busy hallways that used to be on the other side of the door? A peek out of the small window showed those hallways completely emptied. ‘You have the man we’re wanting somewhere, we’re aware of the countless attempts of banishing him to an unknown world where he’s been sentenced to imprisonment, living a life of suffering. We ask for his location, any information that you have on him, where his whereabouts are.’

They began to shake their head, knowing that the voices didn’t mean exactly who they thought—however, the sound of a distant voice is heard echoing throughout the halls of the building, a quick glance out of the small window is how they spot Jason wandering around and seeming a little bit confused as to where he was.

“GET OUT! JASON, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

They began to scream from the top of their lungs, trying to grab the attention of Jason, but he couldn’t hear Meliodas from the other side of the door or even see him as he looked down the hall and looked right towards the door that was directed toward the office of Meliodas. “JASON, PLEASE, JUST GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! THEY’RE LOOKING FOR YOU! YOU NEED TO GET THE HELL OUT OF —” The sound of a loud bang, like something large hitting off of the door, frightens Meliodas enough to make them jump back in fear. They seemed to be absolutely confused as to what just happened but they jumped right back to the small window and the hallway was completely emptied, except for a dark shadow at the end of the hallway.

‘We’re not going to harm you, or anyone, unless you do not tell us where he is.’ The voice echoed throughout the room once again, this time sounding like it’s clear as day and coming from right behind Meliodas, and the fear has overcome Meliodas enough to make him freeze in place. ‘Please, don’t be shy, I’m right here with you. You’ve been his carer for long enough, it’s about time you let him become a man for once and accept his own punishment.’ How could they turn around to face whoever the voice belonged to? Trembling and shaking, fear overtaken his whole body, they weren’t in control anymore. ‘Are you finally experiencing what it feels like to be out of control? Not being able to allow anything you’d want to happen? Such a strange feeling, isn’t it? There could’ve been many ways of ending this right now but you’ve had this coming for years—the moment you sent that man into our universe, he caused millions of people to die and we’re only here to repay the favour. The death of one man, a villainous god, and then the rest of this wretched world.’

There’s a few seconds of silence that began to fill the room before Meliodas feels a hand gently touching the back of their head, before slamming it right against the door and knocking him completely out, leaving them in a pool of their own blood as they had awoken up only a couple of hours afterward when they’re finally conscious. The dark black blood was oozed all over the wooden floor. Still unsure as to what happened, they rush out of the room and head to the main room of operations. The same crowd of people still gathered up by the window and watched the sky. “What the hell happened out here? Where’s Jason? Where the hell did everyone go?” They exclaimed, looking around the room and spotting the multiple confused looks on everyone’s faces. “Is nobody going to answer me and leave me standing here acting as if I am fucking insane because I can assure you that I am not—”

“But nobody left— you were only gone for about five minutes.”

And there it was once again, that trembling feeling of fear itself, taking over their whole body as they stood there, heavily breathing as they once again began to survey the room and still all of those faces kept that confused look on them. There wasn’t any doubt as to if he had gone completely crazy, no. This was the world at war, looking for one man and willing to mercy kill millions in order to get to him.

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“They said that I’d never bounce back strong enough after fumbling at the first few hurdles.”

His voice is how the feed begins, bringing us to the same bar setting as beforehand, but with the addition of a few new pieces to the collection. Upon one side of the back wall was the VICTORY Pro World’s Championship and now, resting along the shoulder of the man of the hour, was the Impulse Championship. That man, in question, just so happened to have been Jason Long. With the championship resting along his shoulder as he glanced down onto it, he smirked after speaking the first sentence, and seemed to be dressed to the nines in a dark Armani suit—all black, head to toe.

“And yet,” he paused for a moment to glance down at the championship once more. “Here we are. There’s times where I’ve always been right with what I say and that charity event was no different than any other time that I speak something into existence. And this isn’t anything new to me, it’s always been the constant since the moment that I entered professional wrestling—whatever I speak, it becomes the truth. Joe Monturoi should’ve known the truth was about to come, he should’ve known that you don’t duck me that easily, and that’s how it’ll always be, my friends. You can attack me from behind, use your brother, dodge me as much as you want, but I always come back around and get my dues.”

“He paid for his insecurities, it cost him the one championship that was keeping his relevance alive.”

Long began to smirk, almost beginning to chuckle, but he held it in for the moment. “And as much as I’d have liked to have shown up a few weeks ago to do some kind of celebration, I was a little bit caught up in the moment doing other important things. There’s businesses to attend to, shows of my own to run, a whole promotion that I have to overlook or I leave everyone causing chaos—which is never something that I want my own roster to do—but the celebrations begin now, a massive chance to shine upon the main event spot and with champions and challengers all around on each team. Quite the band of many to have around to celebrate such a beginning of a reign, isn’t it?”

“Let’s begin with the supposed challenger to this very championship right here,” he adjusted the championship on his shoulder and the confident smirk grew larger as his attention was brought back onto the camera. “Chelsea Skye, now why are you here? Why have I been hearing that your name is being etched in as a contender to this championship? I’d have expected a massive reason from Charlie Jones or Ophelia as to why she’s here. I’d expect a massive long essay as to why you’re just here by my side—but I guess, if someone’s got to help you across the line and make you win something then, I’m the next best thing, huh.” He began to shake his head from side to side, even feeling disgusted even uttering those words from out of his mouth. “Fuckin’ tragic.”

“Just remember that we’re not mates, you don’t depend on me, and you follow my fuckin’ lead. I’m the one with the experience unlike anyone else in this match, I’m the one who knows what the fuck they’re doing, and I’m not the one who’s day job when they’re not wrestling is being a god damn prostitute.” He pointed to the camera, a stern look in his eye. “Have I made myself abundantly clear? Yes? Thank you, now, fuck off.”

Long adjusted the championship along his shoulder before dropping it down onto the marble counter of the bar, laid it out flat as he moved his way around to the other side of the bar, now showing off that detailed tailored suit of his. There’s a slight smirk resting along his lips.

“Allen Chaney.”

There’s a pause and a slight chuckle coming from Long, “this feels like a good enough time to say that it’s about damn time we’ve got to share the ring with one another. I thought our first meeting together would’ve been more hopeful than how this match seems to be with right now, would’ve much preferred a time where myself and you would come to share the ring together so we’d have a clash. See which championship is really on top as it is right now.”

“Which, I know, you beat Joe a while back when he was the champion but also, that’s the same man who believes in himself to be the face of this very company.” He pointed to the ground. “And I have to say, Allen, it was quite nice to see yourself pick up the win against the former champion a couple of weeks ago or so—or, was it really the win that you wanted, was it even a win at all is the real question, because there wasn’t a clear end result told. My friend, you parade around with a championship that you haven’t really successfully defended yet — amidst any beliefs that you might’ve had inside of that empty-headed mind of yours — but there’s nothing you’ve done with that championship that’s proven worthy of being ‘a good champion’. And sure, as someone that just won this?”

“I don’t have a say as to what I’ve proven—but I can tell you where I’ve been whilst holding this championship, which could be a lot more said than just about anything that you could find interesting about yourself, Allen.” Another pause. “I’ve been across the world twice over, I’ve been to charity events, I’ve been to promotion after promotion and winning more championships to add to the collection, impressing everyone everywhere I go. Is someone like Allen Chaney able to say that right now? Is he able to say he’s been somewhat impressive as of late? Has he? I don’t believe so.”

“You survived against Damian Ayla, you didn’t beat him. That’s not impressive, that’s sheer fuckin’ luck.”

He took the moment to take a deep breath, to calm himself down before he became a little bit too hot-headed. A deep inhale, a deep exhale, and repeat. His eyes opened and hands came down, feeling a little bit more mellow than beforehand.

“I’ve had many battles with your partner, however, Allen. He’s more of a threat than you are.”

“And I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the ring with you many times beforehand, Issak, and it seemed like every chance that I’ve had to share that ring with you—there always seemed to have been a way you got the upper hand on me, even when I thought that I had scouted you enough.” His hands raised upward. “I put my hands up and say that’s an incredible talent that you’ve got, but even then, I don’t believe it to have been my best when it came to being inside of the ring. You’d have to excuse me on those accounts, my friend, but I had a hard time throughout that small period where I couldn’t find my footing elsewhere. However, that doesn’t excuse me this time around—footing doesn’t seem to be an issue now, finding my stride doesn’t seem to be an issue, there’s no excuses this time around, and that?” Long questioned, a smirk growing along his lips. “Oh, that should scare you, my friend.”

“You made an interesting point a while back about myself, it’s made me remind myself of you in a way, and that’s that quote of yours where you said that during my rise back in 2019, you were gone and you left professional wrestling. Then, leading into that triple threat match, you said words that sparked my attention and led me back to that same quote from beforehand.” Hand went toward his chin, fingers running through his facial hair. “You gained a whole lot of momentum by continuously being booked, whereas I took one week off to try and fix myself up before heading into the pay-per-view, which clearly didn’t work out in my favour at the end of the day but you just remember that now. See, whilst you’ve been proving yourself to becoming Allen’s next contender over the past few weeks where you’ve never needed a break, I’ve been sitting back and coming back stronger than ever before—now holding the Impulse Championship in my possession. You had a couple of weeks to make yourself a contender to a championship and made a petty insult because I took one whole week off?”

“You missed out on wrestling for about, what, three years?” He questioned, “in that amount of time that you’ve been gone from the ring, I’ve been winning championship after championship after fuckin’ championship all over the damn world and fighting inside of the biggest arenas that there is in the world right now. In just a few weeks, you got the better of me. In just three whole years, I overshadowed your whole career — and whatever future your career holds — and left you in the fuckin’ dust. Issak, there’s no competition of who’s the better man when this shit happens, but if you get a little bit petty with me? You better expect some fuckin’ bite to come back at you.”

“I always cash out my receipts, no matter how long it takes, and I’ve got one too many with your name on it.”

Long began to tut to himself, shaking his head from side to side. “And then there’s the other team.”

“I call them the other team because I find nothing amusing or intriguing about these two. The lesser inferior people in this match compared to what myself or anyone else in this match is, except for Chelsea because she seems like she belongs in that category but I didn’t book this match, so I can’t complain for the time being.” He shrugged his shoulders. “How much can I speak about when it comes to either Lachlan Kane or Angel? Lachlan is just down the fuckin’ road from where I grew up, he’s calling himself ‘The Scrapper’ and I’ve never seen such a weak use of a nickname than that—because how can you be calling yourself a scrapper when you can’t even fight to keep attention on you. I’d hate to be anyone in Wolfslair because they have a pissant fuckin’ excuse of a trainer. Like, there’s so much to you that just bores me the fuckin’ death and it makes me wonder, you’ve been doing this since you were eighteen—which is over ten years ago—and yet, how the fuck have I become the more memorable man to come out of Ireland compared to you? Hell, for the past five years, I’ve never ever heard of your name until I actually got here to this very company.”

“There’s been memorable names that have come out of European wrestling but you, Lachlan, have never ever been mentioned once, never will become mentioned ever again, and the only way that you could be mentioned is by example in a training tape for my school.” A look of disgust rests along his face. “How To Fuck Everything Up 101: The Irish Wrestling Edition. On the cover will be your face, Lachlan. You’re a contender for something, apparently, but the only thing you should be contending for is your job being kept because if this was me in the owner’s seat, I’d have put you back on the fuckin’ dole and collecting jobseeker’s claim.”

“And Angel.”

There’s a moment where Long just stands there, the silence now beginning to soak in as he seemed to have been a little bit lost for words, trying to find something to say about the Victory Champion—but he can’t seem to get a single word out. He began to shake his head from side to side, a little bit disappointed in himself, but then he sighed and the words just came out.

“There’s nothing more to add to someone that looks like a satan worshipper who just so happened to be named ‘Angel’, which is quite the opposite of what I expected, but here we are. Like, all I’ve gotten out of you was the fact that you were trained by some, and I quote, sick and twisted evil son of a bitch. Irrelevant information for me and this is why you’re just a part of ‘the other team’ in this match.” He shakes his head. “I’ve really just grown to not give a single fuck about you in this match and I think it’ll stay that way after this match is long done and forgotten about.”

“Whilst a match like this is where many can prove themselves, either to the champion or the challenger, there’s a strong showing of disappointment all around, and I think only one person right now could really show themselves out if the past couple of times have proven anything to me. But, that’s all that is, the past. Live to forget all about that.” Long chuckled to himself quietly, reaching behind him to grab the Impulse Championship and bringing it back into the camera shot, resting along his shoulder. “The only thing that’s needed to be proven is how far this championship is going to go with me as it’s champion—there’s no fucking slacking around anymore, there’s no dry shite champions holding onto this belt anymore, this is a championship that’ll reach the same levels as the Excellence Championship—if not further than that belt, so long as Allen Chaney holds it.”

“But, I guess, this is how we prove that could happen.” He paused. “Have fun finding all of the excuses when it’s time to come sob them up after the match, boys and girls. I cannot fuckin’ wait to hear them all.”

The Impulse Champion had spoken, a large grin along his face as he patted down onto the front plate of the championship belt resting along his shoulder, and from there, he walked right out of the shot, to which it began to fade to black.

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