Post by Deleted on Sept 19, 2020 12:31:10 GMT -5
A small village somewhere in Soho, New York- the deep dark night consumes the shot. Bare feet walking at a downward angle, toward something, or someone. Heavy breathing accompanies an occasional grunt. Inside a house we see an older woman wake up startled by a nightmare. She grabs her empty water glass on the night stand and heads toward the kitchen still trying to calm her nerves...
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Media clippings of different wrestling commentators begin to surface overlapping in a barrage of criticism. Faster they begin to play out until a blank black screen cuts in.
"How could he do this??"
"What was he really trying to prove?"
"He didn't need to do it! That's what is surreal!"
"Throwing a way a career has never been this easy..."
"Will he even get another gig after that?"
"I just don't understand the point."
"Think about it, who is he? Did we ever really know?"
"Do it the right way OR DON'T DO IT AT ALL!"
"WHHYYY? All that's left, WHY?"
"This is far more than losing, it's sickening."
"Wrong is wrong!"
"How can Eden ever trust him again?"
"Look, we knew he was a criminal, and he proved it."
"Cheaters never prosper- case in point."
The screen goes fuzz for a split second.
Just before it turns to black, an image is barely visible within it.
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Switching to the hooded figure walking away from the house outside, in the distance behind him the mailbox at the curb of the house reads "Kadmon." The feed goes directly from the hooded threat walking away to flashes of Sanatorium Play By Play Announcer Gia Van Zant standing face to face with her doppelganger on Sanatorium weeks ago, then to Owen Swift losing virtually to himself after the entrance of an outsider mimicking him somehow. We arrive at the scene from last week in the warehouse before the match.
Peeling off the already shedding Gia Van Zant skin- a deformed face reflects from itself in a dirty mirror. Wilting white flakes cover the sink. Gia's nose. Gia's ear. Gia's flesh. It moans with each strip. Satisfying oxygen rejuvenates moment to moment blending into the horror of why it was disguised as Gia in the first place. Dread in dire strangeness drowns any glimpse of hope.
// Ahhh. C'est mieux.
[Ahhh. That's better.]
Reborn into fresh flush skin its face relaxes into a mushy form. It sits on a stool, using an old towel to rub the texture across just to feel something. Large sigh. Tossing the towel into a corner pile. Metal sounds in the background key its deformed ears. It walks out the doorway into a gigantic warehouse breathing heavy as if still recovering. It labors over to a cage, where a teenage girl is trapped pawing at the chair to get free. She hears its footsteps. Screaming in terror. She looks at its face. Screaming in terror. She asks to be let go. Screaming in terror. It holds up a crooked pointer finger to its nearly unrecognizable lips. Shhhhhh. It shakes its head.
// Ce qui t'arrive est le plus grand honneur.
[What is happening to you is the greatest honor.]
She cries asking for her mother and father. Demanding to know why she has been taken and what will happen if she dies. It thinks for a moment examining her questions. It mimics her body language with a hideous chuckle. Her eyes glaze over. Replacing fear with certainty in knowing there is no feasible escape. It runs bulging swollen fingertips across the cell bars. It crouches by her head. She closes her eyes clinching her jaw ready for the abyss to consume her.
// Vous ne ressentez rien, rien ne vit à l'intérieur,
aucune âme. Lorsque votre cœur meurt vous mourez.
[You feel nothing, nothing lives inside,
no soul. When your heart dies you die.]
Her eyes flutter open. Tears running down her cheeks. She pulls out an old photo oh her family one last time. The beauty in the photo is stunning. A fatherly like man holding a younger version of her as they overlook some amazing natural monument. Next to them a motherly like woman holding an even younger little boy. Running her fingernail lovingly across their faces. It walks into the other room. It comes back with keys jingling at the cage door. The latch is unlocked. A long taser rod extended. Weak and wheezing it carefully shock stuns the girl into a puddle of no resistance. It turns around watching a fly land on one of the cell bars. Frantically it starts trying to stun the fly with the long rod even in a metal cage. Coughing and choking in a pointless chase around the inside of the cell. He trips over the girls limp foot as the live rod lands speared into her pretty face and continues to burn from his swollen finger on the enclosed small trigger. The fly heads back through the bars and out an open warehouse window far above. The picture of her family falls slowly out of her limp unclenching hand. Blood spatter from her electrified face covers all but the fatherly mans head.
// Ahhh. C'est mieux.
[Ahhh. That's better.]
Reborn into fresh flush skin its face relaxes into a mushy form. It sits on a stool, using an old towel to rub the texture across just to feel something. Large sigh. Tossing the towel into a corner pile. Metal sounds in the background key its deformed ears. It walks out the doorway into a gigantic warehouse breathing heavy as if still recovering. It labors over to a cage, where a teenage girl is trapped pawing at the chair to get free. She hears its footsteps. Screaming in terror. She looks at its face. Screaming in terror. She asks to be let go. Screaming in terror. It holds up a crooked pointer finger to its nearly unrecognizable lips. Shhhhhh. It shakes its head.
// Ce qui t'arrive est le plus grand honneur.
[What is happening to you is the greatest honor.]
She cries asking for her mother and father. Demanding to know why she has been taken and what will happen if she dies. It thinks for a moment examining her questions. It mimics her body language with a hideous chuckle. Her eyes glaze over. Replacing fear with certainty in knowing there is no feasible escape. It runs bulging swollen fingertips across the cell bars. It crouches by her head. She closes her eyes clinching her jaw ready for the abyss to consume her.
// Vous ne ressentez rien, rien ne vit à l'intérieur,
aucune âme. Lorsque votre cœur meurt vous mourez.
[You feel nothing, nothing lives inside,
no soul. When your heart dies you die.]
Her eyes flutter open. Tears running down her cheeks. She pulls out an old photo oh her family one last time. The beauty in the photo is stunning. A fatherly like man holding a younger version of her as they overlook some amazing natural monument. Next to them a motherly like woman holding an even younger little boy. Running her fingernail lovingly across their faces. It walks into the other room. It comes back with keys jingling at the cage door. The latch is unlocked. A long taser rod extended. Weak and wheezing it carefully shock stuns the girl into a puddle of no resistance. It turns around watching a fly land on one of the cell bars. Frantically it starts trying to stun the fly with the long rod even in a metal cage. Coughing and choking in a pointless chase around the inside of the cell. He trips over the girls limp foot as the live rod lands speared into her pretty face and continues to burn from his swollen finger on the enclosed small trigger. The fly heads back through the bars and out an open warehouse window far above. The picture of her family falls slowly out of her limp unclenching hand. Blood spatter from her electrified face covers all but the fatherly mans head.
In the days after the victory over Swift, his identical predator peels away more dead skin back in the warehouse where he seemingly dwells. He looks at himself in the broken mirror, recognizing only his eyes, then punching the mirroring in frustration, revealing how it probably was cracked in the first place. He grunts from a combination of pain and torment.
Finally peeled to fresh flesh once again he walks over to a metal locker at the end of the room. Looking through the three slots having a moment of déjà vu... then a flashback...
Curiosity guides him to a locker that has some bright color shouting out through the three slot cut outs. He puts his hand on the lip of the lock, leaning his forehead into it as he closes his eyes and moans deeply. Blast! A combination lock. He slams the locker with his fist, then turns in a frustration circle trying to find his happy place. Several woo-sa's later he settles on a productive thought process. He pulls off his stolen guard badge, and takes the safety pin off the back. Frantically pushing knowing time is of the essence. He MacGyver's the shit out of the pin latch until it eventually... POPPPPP!! Shocked it actually worked, he tosses the pin to the floor. Slowly her unhooked the latch, the rusty metal door creaks open.
"It can't be..."
The angle zooms around his shoulder to reveal the image in the locks next to some nasty bubble gum wrappers and a couple Coolio Concert DVD's. Perplexed, the fateful moment's meaning begins to dawn on him.
"This is what it all means... I always knew I just... never put it to... gether...
OH MY GOD...
I have to beat Nikki Caldwell!"
"It can't be..."
The angle zooms around his shoulder to reveal the image in the locks next to some nasty bubble gum wrappers and a couple Coolio Concert DVD's. Perplexed, the fateful moment's meaning begins to dawn on him.
"This is what it all means... I always knew I just... never put it to... gether...
OH MY GOD...
I have to beat Nikki Caldwell!"
Yelling with pure rage he hits the locker with fist combinations until the skin rips and bleeds. He opens the locker door as the same picture of Nikki Caldwell sits staring back at his exiled disfigured face. He picks it up calming trying to rediscover his purpose. Next to the photo is a news clipping about Nikki "having a brother on Sanantorium and heading to Dystopia." Beneath the article is a photo of V holding the Asylum title shot contract he won after ascending to contention in the tournament on Sanatorium. He clicks on a small TV where the media clipping from before were obviously from. It plays them again, then continues one beyond the previous end point.
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"Gabe Reno is a fraud who should never show his face in this business EVER AGAIN..."
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He smashes the TV then rages on destroying the sinks with a down judo kick, pulls the mirror off the wall completely, then tips the locker over for good measure- hollering "WHYYYYYYY!??" He coughs trying to catch his baited breath, furious he had to hate himself enough to mutate his appear at some backwoods Witch Doctor clinic in the woods. His mind races with how to get even... then he glances down at the news clipping of V, which had fallen out of the locker when it was tipped. He notices the subtext; "V, native of Soho..."
"Her brother..."
His mutated flesh smirks.
