The Heir
6'1"
210 lbs.
"The Joker" by Damien, Terje Tylden
Anchorage, AK
Neutral
Gogoplata
The Heir
is Offline
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15 posts
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VICTORY ROSTER
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Post by Sabin / Wraith on Dec 16, 2022 22:09:57 GMT
Inside the nursery to the Docherty Estate; the curtain is drawn back to allow the silver moonlight to fill the room. The rocking chair gently rocks back and forth. There is a faint creaking of the floorboards as it goes back and forth, but a second sound is heard that almost drowns out the sound of the creaking… the humming of a lullaby, and the occasional chattering of teeth.
“Hush. Don’t cry… Don’t fret…” The figure mutters. There is a low growl to their voice, as if they are trying to hide it.
The camera finally does circle around to the front of the chair to see a pair of red irises shooting a glance at the camera, before instantly turning their attention back to the infant in their arms; Wraith sits with Mikaela Jade cradled in their arms. Wraith’s nostrils flare up as they let out a contented sigh. Wraith leans back in the chair, still clutching onto Mikaela Jade as she is sound asleep in the arms of the monster.
“Monster, right?” Wraith asks, as their lips curl into a grin; a light chuckle escapes from behind their lips, but nevertheless, they resume, “It is a badge that I wear with honor, and a badge that I feel I have already– I have–” Wraith clicks their tongue several times before letting the next word come out, “EARNED! I have earned…it…because of what I do inside of the ring. Because of what I am willing to do to each and every person that stands across from me; each and every person that CHALLENGES me! Glory… is what I seek. Reverence. Fear.” Wraith says with a chuckle.
“It is something that I have been… stalled… from. But my mind is still on doing that one thing; my mind is still on the idea of CONQUERING! Since day one, my mind has been set on CONQUERING this entire industry to become the most revered, the most feared, the most glorified champion to ever grace the ring with my presence! As close as I got to accomplishing that goal, Joe Montuori… was able to avoid it. Jason Long… was able to avoid it. Stalled. But I am coming back for what should have been mine! The Impulse Championship–” A sound disrupts Wraith momentarily; a tiny coo from Mikaela Jade, which earns their undivided attention. Mikaela cannot hold back a long yawn whilst trying to look around the darkened room. Her own distraction from Wraith permits Wraith to turn their attention back to their focus.
“The Impulse Championship…” Wraith repeats, letting the word linger for a moment longer, “If it had not been for a certain someone, then I would have been the one to march into Mother’s event as the Impulse Champion! And while I know that Jason Long is a fierce competitor, it would be a much better battle… I failed that day. I failed the day that I was supposed to wage war with Jason Long to determine who would have fought Joe Montuori for the championship, and now I am battling for another chance! And just like I should have made Joe Montuori tap out; just as I should have made Jason Long tap out, just as I will make him tap out… Just as I made Ellie Quinn… tap out…” They close their eyes momentarily, and draw in a sharp breath, before exhaling slowly; as if the entity of Wraith had received pleasure from the sensation of forcing someone to submit. They reopen their eyes, and cock their head to the side, “I will make Casanova English… tap out… For… me… For… the world to see. For–” Wraith looks toward Mikaela, “–this little one to know exactly what she will, one day, do to the next round of competition. When our names are mere whispers of what they are becoming, she will lead the next charge. Just as I–” Wraith turns their head toward the camera, and lowers their head slightly before finishing their statement, “–will be leading this charge. This week, though, I am battling against someone who… could quite well be my equal,” Their lips curl into a grin when they consider that idea. An equal.
Wraith turns their attention back to Mikaela Jade, and with their clawed fingernail, they stroke her cheek and jaw; the emerald eyes stare up toward the monster, and despite the features that would frighten most infants at her age, she just smiles and coos lightly until her eyes finally shut. Wraith leans forward in the chair, and walks her over to the crib and gently places her down; Wraith pulls the blanket to her torso and then pats a couple of times. The monster smiles upon the child for a lingering moment until finally fixing their posture, and then within the blink of an eye, the room and all of the belongings dissipate, and we find ourselves back within the void, the confines to where the monster controlled everything.
“An equal…” Wraith whispers, “Someone just as twisted! Someone just as demented! Someone who would like to do nothing more than to inflict as much damage as possible unto my opponent… This is something that I had been HOPING for when I stepped into the ring with Ellie Quinn; someone who had been TWISTED enough to participate in some of the most barbaric matches in the history of this business… but…” They snort out, causing their nostrils to flare, and their lips curl into a more sadistic grin, “Ellie Quinn was DISAPPOINTING!” That word echoes throughout the void several times.
“I begged her to hit me. I LET HER HIT ME! I wanted her to hit me as hard as she could possibly muster, but it did not matter… I could have let her WAIL on me! I could have given her five uninterrupted minutes to inflict as much damage as she could before I would fight back, and I am telling you that it would have left me unphased. I would have still gotten up,” They take several steps toward the camera, and cock their head one way, “I would have gotten back into her face,” they cock their head the other way, “I would have BEGGED her to hit me one more time!” and back the other way, “And I was still going to make her TAP OUT!”
Wraith takes a brief pause, pausing to smile; they even bare their teeth to the camera, and after several seconds, take a long stride back while sucking in air heavily, “I have a feeling that this week is going to be a LITTLE different. Do you feel the same way, CASANOVA? Do you feel like the two of us can– we can go onto our blank canvas, and we can PAINT IT RED? If I give you the same gesture as I did with Ellie, are you going to actually make me hurt? Are you actually going to make me FEEL SOMETHING? Are you going to make me feel PAIN?! Or are you going to just leave me disappointed…?” They smack their lips together a couple times.
They take a moment to take a breather, strolling back and forth in front of their audience, and their hands folded behind their back; their lips are moving as if in a discussion, but rather in a discussion with themself and their own private thoughts. Contemplating the answers that might come from Casanova English; the thoughts that Casanova English might have when walking into the ring to face off against the second generation star.
“I know what you believe about yourself… Something that you have exemplified throughout your career, yes?”
They glance over their shoulder behind them, as if glancing for a chair; there, of course, is nothing there, but Wraith sits down either way and seems to hover, and cross one leg over the other.
“You have a pretty high pain threshold… For your sake, I hope that you mean it. TRULY! Mean it… Because I have been in the ring with a number of people who have all claimed to have a higher than norm pain threshold, and do you know what I have done against ALL OF THEM?” Wraith asks, and takes a brief pause, but they do not adjust their position at all; just that same smile lingering. “I have found their limit! I took them to their limit, and when all was said and done, I was the one that walked out with my arm raised as the winner! My own brother, Dean Harper, is what these people would call a sadist; he has credited himself to have never tapped out, but I took him to the limit! The Norseman! I have made him tap out. Pax? He held on for as long as he could, but even he passed out… which…” Wraith shrugs, “I am not too fond of, because there still is nothing like that feeling when that person who prepared themselves for combat…that person, who ran their mouth the entire week…that person, who convinced themselves, their family, their friends, and anyone who would give half a mind to listen to them, that they were going to be the one to walk out as the winner…has no choice but to TAP OUT and ADMIT DEFEAT!” Wraith draws in another sharp breath, and twists and turns their head in sheer pleasure.
“There are few things that surpass that sensation, Casanova, and as I was saying, I have made a GREAT NUMBER of people have to admit to themselves, and admit to the world, that they could not fight any longer. They had to admit to themselves and to the world that they were not in the same league as me… I found their limits… I broke their limits… and now I look at you, and I have no choice but to question that, for as high as you think your pain threshold could be, where is your limit? What do I have to do to you to force you to tap out? And what are you going to say when all is said and done? Are you going to be like some of the other people that I have fought in the past, who would claim that it was a fluke? Are you going to claim that it was luck? Are you going to claim that lightning struck? Trust me, in my short time, I have heard just about every excuse that anyone could muster.” Wraith chuckles under their breath.
“Really, I think what absolutely KILLS them is more to the idea that they are looking across the ring… at me…” they tap their clawed nail against their chest, “They see a– a–” they grit their teeth while fumbling over the word momentarily, “–a kid! They see someone…beneath them. They see someone that they do not deem as a threat, and THAT is what absolutely guts them! It destroys them! It crushes their entire ego, and so of course, it had to have been a fluke! That is the only explanation, other than outing them for the true word as to what they are…and that is MEDIOCRE. Are you going to be one of those people, Casanova? Are you going to fathom an excuse WHEN I force you to tap out in the center of the ring?” Wraith asks, and waits again for several seconds.
“But let me go a little bit into our similarities… that pain… It shapes us, right? It shapes us into the monsters that we have become! Before I took control, I can remember… I can remember everything that Sabin has had to endure, and pain was his teacher! Angel Blake– Father– and Mother… There was no mercy for Sabin simply because he was the heir. There was no mercy for him because he was the first son. It was trial by fire! You see, a lot of people have tried to claim that it was a silver spoon… that everything WE have accomplished was handed to us because of who our family is, because make no doubt about it: our family is ROYALTY! But that could not be further from the truth. PAIN became what would shape us into this monster. People can bring their chains; people can bring their steel chairs; people can bring their sticks, their stones, their garbage cans, their barbed wire, their tasers, their cigarettes; they can bring everything! They can hit us with EVERYTHING! But, like you and your pain threshold, we are going to continue to get up… We are going to continue to fight! When the world believes that we would be out for the count; when the world believes that I should take a page out of the book of those that I am standing against, and I should TAP OUT; we continue to fight. The crowd had a message for the world regarding me…” Wraith holds their hand out, and closes their eyes.
They could visualize and hear the crowd, as if it were happening at that particular moment… Each time the crowd chants the phrase, it gets louder, and louder, and louder, until the audience is hearing it loud and clear. Wraith begins to move their head along with the chant, as if it were a melody playing in their head, and they were getting lost in it.
“You can’t kill him!”
They chant.
“Better people have tried, Casanova. Better people have tried to be the ones to finally put me down in a fight, and hope– and PRAY– that I do not get back up! And I have said it before… I will say it again… this is not some delusion that I am going to go throughout the entirety of my life without tasting defeat; I am going to be defeated. I am going to be beaten, but what I will not do… is stay down. What I will not do… is die! There are few people who have been able to take a victory over me… FEW… PEOPLE… and do you want to know what has become quite humorous to me? Most of those people… have gone into hiding. Most of those people have announced their retirements! Why do you think that is? I wonder. Why is that?” They chuckle lightly, while baring their teeth again as if a vampire showing off their fangs.
“I can tell you exactly why it is…” Wraith sniffles, and hunches forward.
“Because I hold grudges! Those that did not go into hiding… those who have not retired… would eventually be placed back against me, and I would extract every ounce of revenge I could, and I would walk out with the victory! I adapt. I learn, and I am a quick learner. This is the advice that I would like to give you, Casanova: Pray. Pray that you do enough damage to keep me down long enough for you to secure a victory… Because if you do not keep me down that long then the only thing that is going to happen is I am going to get up, and I am going to show you every bit of the monster that I am!” They lick their lips, salivating at the thought of their prey this week.
“But as these fans will tell you that you cannot kill me, it is something that I also find mildly amusing… These fans… they cheer for me. They cheer for the blood that I shed inside of the ring! They cheer for the carnage that I bring to the ring every single time that I step into the ring! They cheer for the monster…and they cheer for what they know I intend on doing to everybody that is standing across from me… That is why I say, I am not ashamed of what I am. I know what I am, and I admit what I am! But they cheer me; while you do something similar… you have that bloodlust, and they do not give you that same love. What can you do?” They say with a shrug of their shoulders.
“I told you earlier that I view you as something different than what I am used to being in the ring with. I see you as something more; I see you as an equal… an agent of chaos… and that is why you had better not disappoint me! You had better not ease up on any of that pressure! You want blood?” Wraith traces their claw against their collarbone, digging their nail in deep enough that a trail of blood follows, and begins to seep down, “Take it. Take it, and know that you are stepping into the ring with someone who is aiming to take everything away from you… blood. Spirit. EVERYTHING. Then…” Wraith chuckles again, “Then I am going to go back for everything that should have been mine. Then… my target is set on Jason Long, and the Impulse Championship. I will see you soon, Casanova.” The imagery begins to fade away with Wraith tilting their head back, and the entire scenery fades to black.
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