12-16-2018, 06:17 PM
12-18-2018, 03:13 PM
Footsteps…
Right… left… right… left… right… left…
Echoing down a hallway. The only light to be seen right now comes from the bottom of a door. The inside of the room is darkness, exactly the way its resident prefers, but not by the resident’s choice. The darkness is forced, much like the sound of the footsteps getting closer and louder.
Left… right… left… right…
A pair of voices are heard outside…
Voice 1: “Subject 667?”
Voice 2: “Heavily sedated. Has demonstrated violent tendencies with the doctor. Recommended shock therapy next, but if that fails to provide the necessary results, a lobotomy is not out of the question.”
Voice 1: “Such a shame… he had such potential too…”
The footsteps continue down the hall… left… right… left… right… but the volume slowly decreases until all that remains are distant echoes. The scene shifts…
----------
DAMIAN ANGEL
in ‘The Big Bad’
It’s SCW Breakdown, and Damian Angel has just spoken his mind. Har Megiddo, his hit squad, have departed for the night. Damian sits alone in the shadows waiting. Watching.
Wondering.
Damian: “I knew you would be the last to leave, Alex.”
CHBK, Alex Desoubrais, walks past, stopping at the sound of his name as Damian slinks out of the shadows. He stands in front of The Devil Himself, but he only grins, because what he sees in front of him is not his bitter rival, the man who once broke his back only to fall to him 12 months later. He sees an ineffective villain… a man who sought to run “The Cornerstone” from the industry, only to fail.
Damian has had his taste of failure.
CHBK: “Hello, Damian.”
Damian: ““Hello, Damian.””
CHBK: “I’m neither in the mood nor the necessary position to play games with you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed from the shadows, Damian, but you’re not exactly a pressing concern for me.”
Damian: “Not a pressing concern… Alex, I should always be a pressing concern for you. All it takes is a snap of my fingers and my monsters will be able to step out and utterly decimate you. Break you. Destroy you!”
CHBK: “Your monster?”
He laughs.
CHBK: “Your monsters have proven to be as ineffectual as you have, Damian. There was a time when you thought you had broken me. There was a time when I thought you had broken me. But the thing is legends don’t die, Damian. We survive. WE thrive. We adapt to changing surroundings. And look at this… while you just had your first appearance on television since November, I have been instrumental in changing the very fabric with which this company is woven. You are satisfied playing small ball with Donovan Kayl…”
Damian cringes, still suffering the effects of the steel cage match with the Cornerstone a month ago.
CHBK: “While I am guiding the future of the industry into her rightful chair.”
Damian: “Yes… I warned everyone a decade ago that you were a cancer to this company, that you would do whatever you could to infect it. They vilified me and demonized me and here you are proving me right. If they only knew what I knew a decade ago, you would be nothing more than a cautionary tale… a miserable cripple left trying desperately to hang on to your one remaining thread of relevancy… instead of a former star who is actually trying to desperately hang on to your one remaining thread of relevancy.”
CHBK smirks, then laughs.
CHBK: “That’s your problem, Damian. You only ever think in absolutes. You don’t see the world for what it is. You see it as good and evil and now, you are seeing your own stock diminish because there is a Big Bad that isn’t you. You’re not the one who people are concerned about. You’re not going to cause a ripple in SCW. But me? I bring tsunamis! What I say matters. That is something you’ll never experience again.”
Damian: “I could strike you down where you stand.”
CHBK: “And join Blake Mason in the unemployment line. Face it… your time of relevancy is over. I’m ashamed to have been associated with you once… to be seen on your level. No… to have you seen on my level. Enjoy obscurity, Damian.”
CHBK walks off, chuckling. As he does this, Damian can only muster a scowl. The scene shifts…
----------
Footsteps… hastened sounds approaching the darkened room. On the inside, the subject yells obscenities, illegible rantings of a lunatic. The two people, who’s uneven steps had hastened them to the scene, arrive at the door, stopping. A key slide into the door and the light fires up. They enter without a word, and the larger of two men tackle Damian to the ground. The smaller moves in behind with a sedative, sticking it out forward into the subject…
----------
“People think me a monster… but I am no monster, oh no. I am merely ahead of the curve.”
Damian Angel smiles to himself, an eerie, twisted visage of happiness that is unsettling upon such a scarred face.
“It has been a long time, has it not? The last time you saw me in any sort of capacity, I was speaking to you on camera on SCW Breakdown. Before that, it was in the confines of a steel cage, protecting you from me, but not protecting Donovan Kayl from me. Although he won the match, I assure you he has been broken. That was my doing. The Cornerstone will never admit to it, but he will never be the same again. Pay attention for it.”
Damian laughs.
“And really, that is what this is about, is it not? You want for me to be a monster. You need justification to do me harm… to treat me as though I am lesser because you do not understand me or my motivations. You think that I am a madman… that this is more than a role that I play on television. Well maybe I am. Maybe I am everything that you have been warned about. Maybe I am liable to snap on a moments notice. Maybe when that happens, I shall leave some poor soul at my feet, neck broken in multiple places, as I am finally carted off, your safety guaranteed. Maybe I am truly mad. Or maybe…”
He stops laughing, and his face straightens.
“Maybe there is more to me than what you see. Maybe you believe me a monster because that is all I allow you to believe, because everything else that I have within me is weakness that is festering, is rotted through to the core. Maybe you are not the ones in control. You wish to portray yourself as such, to the point that you have sought to replace me, but I assure you there is no replacement for The Devil Himself.
Casterillo is going to learn that very painful lesson soon enough.”
Damian begins to lick his lips.
“I know you have great plans for Casterillo. You wish for him to be a force to be reckoned with. You wish for him to take a position that I had once occupied. You expect me to acquiesce my position to another “like me” without being able to comprehend that there are none like me. You wish me replaceable, but I am not, and I am insulted by the implication that you make. Tomorrow night I will make an example out of Casterillo. Tomorrow night, I will use Casterillo to remind you all of how dangerous I truly am. Tomorrow night, Casterillo falls at my feet and is driven STRAIGHT to HELL!”
The scene shifts…
----------
Voice 1: “Subject 667. Delusional. Potential psychosis. Violent tendencies. »
Voice 3: “Can you be more specific?”
The lights turn on, and Damian Angel can be seen sitting in a chair, chains shackling his wrists and ankles. A female doctor stands over him, looking, while one of the orderlies – the one who had previously issued a sedative – reads off a clipboard.
Orderly: “He thinks he’s a cult leader… and “The Devil Himself”.”
The Doctor walks around Damian, crouching down in front of him. Tilting her head, she taps his cheeks. Damian doesn’t awaken.
Doctor: “Hmm… schedule him in for a 2:30 electro-shock therapy.”
Orderly: “He’s still in the release program. Supreme Championship Wrestling pays a lot for us to cart him to the arenas and let him “compete”. Of course, he is never unsupervised…”
The orderly looks through the door, and three more workers pass by… Malphas, Behemoth, and Kali. The Doctor nods.
Orderly: “As far as he's aware, they're his “followers”, but they keep good tabs on him. He believes the illusion is real.”
Doctor: “Good to keep up appearances while keeping the public in the dark. I trust SCW pays well.”
Orderly: “And haven’t a clue as to our intentions.”
Doctor: “Good. Keep it that way.”
She smirks, looking at Damian.
Doctor: “A cult leader? Hah…”
The scene fades away.
Right… left… right… left… right… left…
Echoing down a hallway. The only light to be seen right now comes from the bottom of a door. The inside of the room is darkness, exactly the way its resident prefers, but not by the resident’s choice. The darkness is forced, much like the sound of the footsteps getting closer and louder.
Left… right… left… right…
A pair of voices are heard outside…
Voice 1: “Subject 667?”
Voice 2: “Heavily sedated. Has demonstrated violent tendencies with the doctor. Recommended shock therapy next, but if that fails to provide the necessary results, a lobotomy is not out of the question.”
Voice 1: “Such a shame… he had such potential too…”
The footsteps continue down the hall… left… right… left… right… but the volume slowly decreases until all that remains are distant echoes. The scene shifts…
----------
DAMIAN ANGEL
in ‘The Big Bad’
It’s SCW Breakdown, and Damian Angel has just spoken his mind. Har Megiddo, his hit squad, have departed for the night. Damian sits alone in the shadows waiting. Watching.
Wondering.
Damian: “I knew you would be the last to leave, Alex.”
CHBK, Alex Desoubrais, walks past, stopping at the sound of his name as Damian slinks out of the shadows. He stands in front of The Devil Himself, but he only grins, because what he sees in front of him is not his bitter rival, the man who once broke his back only to fall to him 12 months later. He sees an ineffective villain… a man who sought to run “The Cornerstone” from the industry, only to fail.
Damian has had his taste of failure.
CHBK: “Hello, Damian.”
Damian: ““Hello, Damian.””
CHBK: “I’m neither in the mood nor the necessary position to play games with you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed from the shadows, Damian, but you’re not exactly a pressing concern for me.”
Damian: “Not a pressing concern… Alex, I should always be a pressing concern for you. All it takes is a snap of my fingers and my monsters will be able to step out and utterly decimate you. Break you. Destroy you!”
CHBK: “Your monster?”
He laughs.
CHBK: “Your monsters have proven to be as ineffectual as you have, Damian. There was a time when you thought you had broken me. There was a time when I thought you had broken me. But the thing is legends don’t die, Damian. We survive. WE thrive. We adapt to changing surroundings. And look at this… while you just had your first appearance on television since November, I have been instrumental in changing the very fabric with which this company is woven. You are satisfied playing small ball with Donovan Kayl…”
Damian cringes, still suffering the effects of the steel cage match with the Cornerstone a month ago.
CHBK: “While I am guiding the future of the industry into her rightful chair.”
Damian: “Yes… I warned everyone a decade ago that you were a cancer to this company, that you would do whatever you could to infect it. They vilified me and demonized me and here you are proving me right. If they only knew what I knew a decade ago, you would be nothing more than a cautionary tale… a miserable cripple left trying desperately to hang on to your one remaining thread of relevancy… instead of a former star who is actually trying to desperately hang on to your one remaining thread of relevancy.”
CHBK smirks, then laughs.
CHBK: “That’s your problem, Damian. You only ever think in absolutes. You don’t see the world for what it is. You see it as good and evil and now, you are seeing your own stock diminish because there is a Big Bad that isn’t you. You’re not the one who people are concerned about. You’re not going to cause a ripple in SCW. But me? I bring tsunamis! What I say matters. That is something you’ll never experience again.”
Damian: “I could strike you down where you stand.”
CHBK: “And join Blake Mason in the unemployment line. Face it… your time of relevancy is over. I’m ashamed to have been associated with you once… to be seen on your level. No… to have you seen on my level. Enjoy obscurity, Damian.”
CHBK walks off, chuckling. As he does this, Damian can only muster a scowl. The scene shifts…
----------
Footsteps… hastened sounds approaching the darkened room. On the inside, the subject yells obscenities, illegible rantings of a lunatic. The two people, who’s uneven steps had hastened them to the scene, arrive at the door, stopping. A key slide into the door and the light fires up. They enter without a word, and the larger of two men tackle Damian to the ground. The smaller moves in behind with a sedative, sticking it out forward into the subject…
----------
“People think me a monster… but I am no monster, oh no. I am merely ahead of the curve.”
Damian Angel smiles to himself, an eerie, twisted visage of happiness that is unsettling upon such a scarred face.
“It has been a long time, has it not? The last time you saw me in any sort of capacity, I was speaking to you on camera on SCW Breakdown. Before that, it was in the confines of a steel cage, protecting you from me, but not protecting Donovan Kayl from me. Although he won the match, I assure you he has been broken. That was my doing. The Cornerstone will never admit to it, but he will never be the same again. Pay attention for it.”
Damian laughs.
“And really, that is what this is about, is it not? You want for me to be a monster. You need justification to do me harm… to treat me as though I am lesser because you do not understand me or my motivations. You think that I am a madman… that this is more than a role that I play on television. Well maybe I am. Maybe I am everything that you have been warned about. Maybe I am liable to snap on a moments notice. Maybe when that happens, I shall leave some poor soul at my feet, neck broken in multiple places, as I am finally carted off, your safety guaranteed. Maybe I am truly mad. Or maybe…”
He stops laughing, and his face straightens.
“Maybe there is more to me than what you see. Maybe you believe me a monster because that is all I allow you to believe, because everything else that I have within me is weakness that is festering, is rotted through to the core. Maybe you are not the ones in control. You wish to portray yourself as such, to the point that you have sought to replace me, but I assure you there is no replacement for The Devil Himself.
Casterillo is going to learn that very painful lesson soon enough.”
Damian begins to lick his lips.
“I know you have great plans for Casterillo. You wish for him to be a force to be reckoned with. You wish for him to take a position that I had once occupied. You expect me to acquiesce my position to another “like me” without being able to comprehend that there are none like me. You wish me replaceable, but I am not, and I am insulted by the implication that you make. Tomorrow night I will make an example out of Casterillo. Tomorrow night, I will use Casterillo to remind you all of how dangerous I truly am. Tomorrow night, Casterillo falls at my feet and is driven STRAIGHT to HELL!”
The scene shifts…
----------
Voice 1: “Subject 667. Delusional. Potential psychosis. Violent tendencies. »
Voice 3: “Can you be more specific?”
The lights turn on, and Damian Angel can be seen sitting in a chair, chains shackling his wrists and ankles. A female doctor stands over him, looking, while one of the orderlies – the one who had previously issued a sedative – reads off a clipboard.
Orderly: “He thinks he’s a cult leader… and “The Devil Himself”.”
The Doctor walks around Damian, crouching down in front of him. Tilting her head, she taps his cheeks. Damian doesn’t awaken.
Doctor: “Hmm… schedule him in for a 2:30 electro-shock therapy.”
Orderly: “He’s still in the release program. Supreme Championship Wrestling pays a lot for us to cart him to the arenas and let him “compete”. Of course, he is never unsupervised…”
The orderly looks through the door, and three more workers pass by… Malphas, Behemoth, and Kali. The Doctor nods.
Orderly: “As far as he's aware, they're his “followers”, but they keep good tabs on him. He believes the illusion is real.”
Doctor: “Good to keep up appearances while keeping the public in the dark. I trust SCW pays well.”
Orderly: “And haven’t a clue as to our intentions.”
Doctor: “Good. Keep it that way.”
She smirks, looking at Damian.
Doctor: “A cult leader? Hah…”
The scene fades away.
12-19-2018, 12:21 AM
OBSESSION.
Everyone has at least one of them. I admit that I do. Yet my biggest obsession I realize is something that I can no longer fight. Over the past few weeks I have taken a step back to examine what I have become, and have come to realize that right now, with what I have recently learned, I have more power than I thought I once did. She only opened the door. Once I chose to step through it, I have felt changed, and not for worse. From the moment she first laid eyes on me back at my cousin's abode, I thought she would make me weak. I thought that she was just a desperate little girl looking for pleasure.
But those times have passed. Later tonight I will ask her to come to me. It is something I never thought I would do. But this does not make me weak. In fact myself, and her, it will make us both stronger.
I know someone who is weak though, having gone the opposite way of what he once used to be. Damian Angel used to be feared. Damian Angel used to be a household name. Damian Angel used to have all the power and could accomplish anything he wanted to accomplish, on his own. Much like Shadron's little girl days have gone, those good ole days for Damian Angel have vanquished as well.
With that said, one of his obsessions is simple, hoping to relive his glory days. However he will not get that chance. At least not on my watch.
*******
Winter is definitely here, even though it is not yet official on the calendar. You would think it was not upon seeing Casterillo this evening though as he is out in the chilly Cleveland air, walking with a purpose that is yet to be known, in a black short-sleeved buttoned up shirt and matching black slacks, topped off with really good looking black dress shoes. This is definitely the most determined he has looked since arriving back on the scene here in the States, after being in hiding for a few years back home in Denmark.
He keeps searching and searching until finally he comes to a location and stops. Slowly he does a 360 turn. From the expression of his stern face, he knows what he is looking for is very close. Very close indeed.
It has to be here.
He squints his eyes and examines the area closer until he seemingly finds what he has been looking for.
There it is.
Casterillo pushes aside the brush that looks like it has been growing and festering for at least a few years, definitely very close to the amount of time since he was last in this very spot. It is now that he pulls a brick from out of the wall and finds a very well-crafted gold key. He takes it in his right hand and then moves down the wall, pushing away a bit more brush until finally we can see that there is a hidden door in the wall of bricks, well concealed, not conspicuous to the naked eye. He places the key in the lock after looking around to make sure no can see him. Quickly he slips inside the door, closes it, and locks it, the brush definitively going back into place. He turns around and remembers exactly where the light-dimmer switch was. He turns it on, but very dim. He looks like he is about to get comfortable in the old chair in the center of the room, when he remembers that this place has a fireplace, that has not seen use in a long time.
The flames. She will be able to smell them. She will use them to know where I am. I will hold until a needed message is delivered.
In the dimness that is this room Casterillo moves about it grabbing a couple of things, including a torch, a lighter, and an old camera that appears to still work. He leaves the torch and the lighter right at the fireplace and then places the camera on the chair in the center of the room. After swiveling the chair around so the camera is facing the fireplace, Casterillo turns it on and then goes and gets on one knee right in front of the unlit fireplace.
You are lost. You will never be found. I know that frightens you Damian. It instills fear inside the one who truly believes he is The Devil Himself. But what you do not like the most is the fact that I do not fear you. Your nemesis Donovan Kayl feared you, but he was like you are, weak. Neither of you now know what your full potential truly is. Not like it would matter as neither of you will ever be on top once again, looking down at the rest of the world.
This is exactly what I have been stating upon my arrival back here in the States. Once you reach the top, there is nowhere to go but down. That is why I am in no rush to become what a lot of you call a champion. I do not wish to be held down by weight. That is what I thought SHE was, but I was wrong. Dead wrong. You too are wrong Damian. I am not here to be your replacement. I am not here to become the weakling that you have now become. And I have NOT come here to make sure others get what they want. I swear much of this roster is ridiculously petty. Konrad, that should ease YOUR petty worries.
Casterillo just sighs.
No. I have come here to offer what a lot of you need. For you Damian, you need to be woken up. You need to come to the realization that you hold no power. I have TRUE powers that I can unleash. I can control the skies above whenever I wish. The reason it is clear in Cleveland tonight for myself and for you Damian is because I have never been able to see things more clearly. Despite the clear skies though you will notice it is cold. The winter chill is in the air and it is also gripping onto you Damian, like a leech. The cold air knows that your time is almost up. When we meet in that ring, the process will only be sped up. Once that night passes, the leech will continue to suck out whatever you have left inside you, leaving you to live out the rest of your miserable life, until all of your days are spent.
Casterillo lowers his head, but soon lifts it some, so his eyes are glaring right at the camera lens.
There is no hope for you and there is no saving you. It is impossible to save someone who believes he is ahead of everybody else, just because he now has two behemoths backing him up, believing in whatever is being fed to them. Malphas and Behemoth are not helping you though Damian. Not one bit. In fact, they are hurting you. Truth. The legendary Damian Angel that I have heard all about did not need anyone in his corner but himself. Also from what I have heard, every time you went to team up with someone, you ended up destined for failure. You would think The Devil Himself would at least learn from his past mistakes and would at least make the effort to mend them. Someone like you Damian, you were meant to fight the same way I have been. Alone.
It is clear that you are no longer capable of such a feat. To me, that is fine. I will be seeing our meeting as an end to justify the means. Recently a certain simple man chose to be something he was not, a Superhero of sorts. And now you claim to be the biggest villain of all time, when you too are nothing of the sort. This obsession of being what you are just not is very unhealthy, and in the end it will only lead to sadness, and even more importantly it will end with being Claimed by the Dark, forever.
Casterillo stays on one bended knee and uses the lighter to light the torch. Once fire is present he lights the dried logs of firewood that rest in the unused fireplace. Once it is ablaze he blows out the torch. He then stands up, goes to shut off the camera, and then is about to put the torch into its placeholder by the room's door when it becomes obvious that he can already feel her.
Hi Lawrence. I will be there soon, upon your request. I can feel that you are ready for me.
He just nods before placing the torch into its holder before going and sitting on the chair that is the room's centerpiece. It is only about ten minutes that he has to wait, until he hears her soft knock. He gets up and heads for the door, unbelievably willingly opening the door for the young woman he has tried to turn away so many times. He looks her up and down as she is in a rather short pale purple halter dress, with black heels, her purple hair being straight, and clearly recently cut short, but not too short. Simple but elegant at the same time.
Hey. Can I come in, please?
I called you here. Enter.
Thank you.
She has always been a pale young woman, but tonight has some color to her cheeks. She is shivering but it is evident that it is not because of the cold outside.
You look chilly. I can get you a blanket if you need it.
No thank you.
Okay then.
Casterillo heads back to the chair and sits down. She stands there, just looking at him. He swivels the chair partially around to face her and give out his intention.
I am going to tell you something here tonight.
Oh. And that is?
Everything. Come.
Seeing the gesturing motion Shadron takes one nervous step towards him and then another before looking at her left arm, which is no longer in a cast, but is still bandaged up some. He can see the anxiety written on her face.
I promise I will not hurt you. Those days are over. I am no longer obsessed with pushing you away. Others will always deserve it, but not you. You have proved that you are different. Again, come.
She gulps and croaks out.
Okay.
She finishes her nervous walk up to him and he surprises her by pulling her down onto his lap. From here though it is him talking to her, giving her every last fine detail of his life, up until this very moment of time. She says nothing, not even one word, but instead only looks deeply into his eyes, as he looks back into hers. Her nervousness settles. Clearly she is understanding everything there is to know about the being that is in front of her. After his final words to her, she just wraps her arms around his neck and just sits there, very ladylike. Casterillo just simply nods and the two just sit there for quite some time, all alone.
Everyone has at least one of them. I admit that I do. Yet my biggest obsession I realize is something that I can no longer fight. Over the past few weeks I have taken a step back to examine what I have become, and have come to realize that right now, with what I have recently learned, I have more power than I thought I once did. She only opened the door. Once I chose to step through it, I have felt changed, and not for worse. From the moment she first laid eyes on me back at my cousin's abode, I thought she would make me weak. I thought that she was just a desperate little girl looking for pleasure.
But those times have passed. Later tonight I will ask her to come to me. It is something I never thought I would do. But this does not make me weak. In fact myself, and her, it will make us both stronger.
I know someone who is weak though, having gone the opposite way of what he once used to be. Damian Angel used to be feared. Damian Angel used to be a household name. Damian Angel used to have all the power and could accomplish anything he wanted to accomplish, on his own. Much like Shadron's little girl days have gone, those good ole days for Damian Angel have vanquished as well.
With that said, one of his obsessions is simple, hoping to relive his glory days. However he will not get that chance. At least not on my watch.
*******
Winter is definitely here, even though it is not yet official on the calendar. You would think it was not upon seeing Casterillo this evening though as he is out in the chilly Cleveland air, walking with a purpose that is yet to be known, in a black short-sleeved buttoned up shirt and matching black slacks, topped off with really good looking black dress shoes. This is definitely the most determined he has looked since arriving back on the scene here in the States, after being in hiding for a few years back home in Denmark.
He keeps searching and searching until finally he comes to a location and stops. Slowly he does a 360 turn. From the expression of his stern face, he knows what he is looking for is very close. Very close indeed.
It has to be here.
He squints his eyes and examines the area closer until he seemingly finds what he has been looking for.
There it is.
Casterillo pushes aside the brush that looks like it has been growing and festering for at least a few years, definitely very close to the amount of time since he was last in this very spot. It is now that he pulls a brick from out of the wall and finds a very well-crafted gold key. He takes it in his right hand and then moves down the wall, pushing away a bit more brush until finally we can see that there is a hidden door in the wall of bricks, well concealed, not conspicuous to the naked eye. He places the key in the lock after looking around to make sure no can see him. Quickly he slips inside the door, closes it, and locks it, the brush definitively going back into place. He turns around and remembers exactly where the light-dimmer switch was. He turns it on, but very dim. He looks like he is about to get comfortable in the old chair in the center of the room, when he remembers that this place has a fireplace, that has not seen use in a long time.
The flames. She will be able to smell them. She will use them to know where I am. I will hold until a needed message is delivered.
In the dimness that is this room Casterillo moves about it grabbing a couple of things, including a torch, a lighter, and an old camera that appears to still work. He leaves the torch and the lighter right at the fireplace and then places the camera on the chair in the center of the room. After swiveling the chair around so the camera is facing the fireplace, Casterillo turns it on and then goes and gets on one knee right in front of the unlit fireplace.
You are lost. You will never be found. I know that frightens you Damian. It instills fear inside the one who truly believes he is The Devil Himself. But what you do not like the most is the fact that I do not fear you. Your nemesis Donovan Kayl feared you, but he was like you are, weak. Neither of you now know what your full potential truly is. Not like it would matter as neither of you will ever be on top once again, looking down at the rest of the world.
This is exactly what I have been stating upon my arrival back here in the States. Once you reach the top, there is nowhere to go but down. That is why I am in no rush to become what a lot of you call a champion. I do not wish to be held down by weight. That is what I thought SHE was, but I was wrong. Dead wrong. You too are wrong Damian. I am not here to be your replacement. I am not here to become the weakling that you have now become. And I have NOT come here to make sure others get what they want. I swear much of this roster is ridiculously petty. Konrad, that should ease YOUR petty worries.
Casterillo just sighs.
No. I have come here to offer what a lot of you need. For you Damian, you need to be woken up. You need to come to the realization that you hold no power. I have TRUE powers that I can unleash. I can control the skies above whenever I wish. The reason it is clear in Cleveland tonight for myself and for you Damian is because I have never been able to see things more clearly. Despite the clear skies though you will notice it is cold. The winter chill is in the air and it is also gripping onto you Damian, like a leech. The cold air knows that your time is almost up. When we meet in that ring, the process will only be sped up. Once that night passes, the leech will continue to suck out whatever you have left inside you, leaving you to live out the rest of your miserable life, until all of your days are spent.
Casterillo lowers his head, but soon lifts it some, so his eyes are glaring right at the camera lens.
There is no hope for you and there is no saving you. It is impossible to save someone who believes he is ahead of everybody else, just because he now has two behemoths backing him up, believing in whatever is being fed to them. Malphas and Behemoth are not helping you though Damian. Not one bit. In fact, they are hurting you. Truth. The legendary Damian Angel that I have heard all about did not need anyone in his corner but himself. Also from what I have heard, every time you went to team up with someone, you ended up destined for failure. You would think The Devil Himself would at least learn from his past mistakes and would at least make the effort to mend them. Someone like you Damian, you were meant to fight the same way I have been. Alone.
It is clear that you are no longer capable of such a feat. To me, that is fine. I will be seeing our meeting as an end to justify the means. Recently a certain simple man chose to be something he was not, a Superhero of sorts. And now you claim to be the biggest villain of all time, when you too are nothing of the sort. This obsession of being what you are just not is very unhealthy, and in the end it will only lead to sadness, and even more importantly it will end with being Claimed by the Dark, forever.
Casterillo stays on one bended knee and uses the lighter to light the torch. Once fire is present he lights the dried logs of firewood that rest in the unused fireplace. Once it is ablaze he blows out the torch. He then stands up, goes to shut off the camera, and then is about to put the torch into its placeholder by the room's door when it becomes obvious that he can already feel her.
Hi Lawrence. I will be there soon, upon your request. I can feel that you are ready for me.
He just nods before placing the torch into its holder before going and sitting on the chair that is the room's centerpiece. It is only about ten minutes that he has to wait, until he hears her soft knock. He gets up and heads for the door, unbelievably willingly opening the door for the young woman he has tried to turn away so many times. He looks her up and down as she is in a rather short pale purple halter dress, with black heels, her purple hair being straight, and clearly recently cut short, but not too short. Simple but elegant at the same time.
Hey. Can I come in, please?
I called you here. Enter.
Thank you.
She has always been a pale young woman, but tonight has some color to her cheeks. She is shivering but it is evident that it is not because of the cold outside.
You look chilly. I can get you a blanket if you need it.
No thank you.
Okay then.
Casterillo heads back to the chair and sits down. She stands there, just looking at him. He swivels the chair partially around to face her and give out his intention.
I am going to tell you something here tonight.
Oh. And that is?
Everything. Come.
Seeing the gesturing motion Shadron takes one nervous step towards him and then another before looking at her left arm, which is no longer in a cast, but is still bandaged up some. He can see the anxiety written on her face.
I promise I will not hurt you. Those days are over. I am no longer obsessed with pushing you away. Others will always deserve it, but not you. You have proved that you are different. Again, come.
She gulps and croaks out.
Okay.
She finishes her nervous walk up to him and he surprises her by pulling her down onto his lap. From here though it is him talking to her, giving her every last fine detail of his life, up until this very moment of time. She says nothing, not even one word, but instead only looks deeply into his eyes, as he looks back into hers. Her nervousness settles. Clearly she is understanding everything there is to know about the being that is in front of her. After his final words to her, she just wraps her arms around his neck and just sits there, very ladylike. Casterillo just simply nods and the two just sit there for quite some time, all alone.