01-19-2019, 08:35 PM
“What do we have to gain? A struggle for power…
Power…
POWER between sisters. Sisters before Misters. Misters cause headaches. Headaches cause MADNESS. Madness causes… chaos!
Casterillo… Larry wishes he could cause chaos. Larry wishes he was more than he is. Larry wishes for Moe and for Curly… for Shemp in the later seasons. Larry wishes most for relevance.
But Larry doesn’t want the world to remember that Larry lost. Larry had this fight before and LARRY LOST! LARRY LOST! LARRY’S LOSS LIVES ON THE LIPS OF LEGIONS! Larry lost because Larry thinks!
Wait, back up.
Larry thinks Larry lost because of me. Moi. Yo. Mig. Mir. Ako. Mnie. Larry didn’t lose because of me. Larry lost… LARRY LOST! Larry lost because Larry got greedy! Larry lost because Larry WANTED to much. Larry WANTED to make a name off of the Devil Himself. Larry LOST because Larry WANTED to use the Devil as a key to his own future! Larry LOST because Larry wanted everyone to see what he could do to the Devil and, when I took a closer look, Larry took his eyes off the prize!
And Larry started to chase me. Around and around and around. And then Larry ran into the Devil again, and this time he was night-night! And Larry LOST!
But don’t listen to what Larry says about it. Because not only did Larry LOST… LARRY LIED! Larry is a LIAR and a SINNER and a THIEF! Larry LIED about the result, telling people he WON. His bio claims that he WON but our eyes did not LIE! Larry LIED! LYING is a SIN! Larry the Liar and Sinner! And a THIEF! He attempted to STEAL the win after it had already been declared! But we do not let him, do we?
No… Larry the Liar needs to be REMINDED that he LOST! He needs to LIVE with the knowledge of his FAILURE! He needs to LIVE knowing that in all his days, he will never… NNNNNNNNNEVVVVVVVVERRRRRRRR… have the POWER or the INFLUENCE that the Devil Himself has! He is a cog… spinning and turning in a machine that is bigger than he is.
Larry won't matter in the end. Larry will LOSE again and be sent spiraling down and down and DOWN. Because that is what Larry does! LARRY LOSES. Heheheheee…"
- Kali
---------------------------
Voice: "Mr. Angel, do you know why you are here?"
In truth, Damian Angel had no idea. From what he was told, he had been incarcerated in the Hell, Michigan Psychiatric Hospital since his wife, Katherine Blackmore, was viciously murdered at the hands of a hooligan in London, England, over a decade ago. But that didn't feel right to him. Something had changed... and though he did not believe in the perils of time travel, nor the practical use of it, someone was lying to him. He looks up at the lights, not turning his head to meet the voice of the therapist who had been brought in to treat him.
Damian: "I assumed that your President had finally grown tired of seeing others command the attention he desires."
Therapist: "Mr. Angel..."
Damian: "I mean, shit... they call me a cultist? I am a leader. I am a community organizer, though perhaps that in and of itself is part of the problem. These political types don't much care for community organizers after the last one."
Therapist: "Mr. Angel, are you making a mockery of me again?"
He was. He knew he was. But he didn't know why, if this was a residual of the sudden exposure in this environment or what.
Damian: “How did I get here?”
Therapist: “Mr. Angel, when your wife was murdered…”
Damian stops, sitting up.
Damian: “Katherine?”
Therapist: “Yes… Katherine was murdered in London, England, taking a knife that had been bound for your own chest.”
Damian sighs, almost reliving the grief of that night for the first time in 11 years. At the time, Damian was SCW World Champion, and had just defeated Shorty Jr. to retain that title, when he was accosted by fans in the parking lot. It was a typical occurrence for the man known as The Devil Himself, the former Hellbound Messiah, and he thought nothing of jawing back at his antagonists. They were likely drunk on the piss-warm beers served within the arena and looking to blow off some steam. What Damian didn’t expect was, on that night, to have one of the rowdy fans pull a knife and lunge at him. But it wasn’t meant to be his night, and Katherine, his beloved, took the blow that had been intended for him. Damian didn’t get a chance to incapacitate the bloke as security was quick onto the scene once they realized what had happened. Six burly guards had tackled the attacker to the ground and, Damian understood, concussed the bastard. He was lucky at the time, because if it wasn’t the six guards subduing him and injuring him, Damian would have outright slaughtered the man right there.
Therapist: “After Katherine’s death, you came to us seeking peace. From what your file says, you told us at the time that you blame yourself, and we could understand why. The knife was meant for you, after all…”
Damian: “And Siona?”
Therapist: “Sonia… your daughter… she was put through the foster system and ultimately ended up with a close friend of Katherine’s… a Miss Kennedy Street.”
Now there was a name that Damian had found familiar. Kennedy and Damian had a contentious relationship… no. That wasn’t true, not in Damian’s mind at least. He had a contentious relationship with Kennedy. In his mind, she was everything he had and lost… everything that was ripped away. Hearing from the Therapist that Kennedy had become guardian of his daughter was… conflicting to him to say the least. But if he had really been in this hospital for 11 years, was he really remembering things that happened? Did he imagine it all? Damian gripped at his head, looking to claw the memories right from his brain.
Therapist: “Mr. Angel… everything that has happened in the last 11 years, since you turned yourself over to us, are things we have allowed to happen. You were an unfit father for that little girl, so we took her away. You had a lot of pent-up aggression, so we allowed you an avenue to dispense of it in a healthy manner, and even then your antics were anything but “healthy”. You set men on fire. You set yourself on fire to prove a point to a man who was simply seeking to continue his career. You wrestled a puppet and outright injured Sesame Street characters. We attempted to parse out your illness, but you always found ways to defy our treatments.”
Damian’s mind wandered through the Therapists words… setting himself on fire? That was something that made sense within the confines of his professional wrestling career. He was never one to show fear. Setting others on fire simply went with the territory. But wrestling a puppet? Sure, that might have been something SCW found amusing at the time. Causing mayhem and destruction on Sesame Street? That is something that Damian also found himself able to rationalize, as placing him in an environment where he would be ill-suited would be a recipe for disaster.
Damian: “I remember that…”
Now was the time for the Therapist’s eyes to open a bit. Damian wasn’t supposed to remember, not as tangible, fathomable memories.
Damian: “I remember causing decimation, destruction, chaos on that show. Injuring their prized red monster.”
Therapist: “Yes, well the treatment had interesting side effects.”
The Therapist sighed in relief, having been able to potentially dismiss Damian’s memories as part of the treatment. But her eyes widened again as Damian shook his head… he was remembering different.
Damian: “I remember being a leader… having followers. My own society. I remember having the world at my fingertips and being able to command the loyalty of anyone I saw. I had my own forces of Armageddon… no… of Har Megiddo…”
Therapist: “Uhhh… yes. Other patients we are attempting the same treatment with.”
Damian: “No. Followers of mine… who would go to the ends of the earth at the snap of my fingers. This is not… this does not feel right.”
Damian sits up, looking at the Therapist, who’s eyes widen.
Damian: “You…”
He flies off of the therapy couch, standing in front of the Therapist.
Damian: “Where have you taken me? WHERE THE FUCK AM I!?”
Without warning, two men larger than Damian burst through the room, one of them jamming a long, pointed needle into the side of his neck. Damian fights against the pain of it, reaching to the side of the neck and pulling it out. He turns to face the men who burst in, but doesn’t get a good look at their faces as his vision blurs. He takes a swing at one, but is caught on the way down. Damian blacks out…
…
Several hours later, the scene returns inside the therapy room. Damian’s eyes reopen and he looks around, trying to bring his eyes into focus. Looking down, he notices his hands bound to the sides of the sofa.
Damian: “What is…?”
Therapist: “You gave us quite a scare earlier, Mr. Angel. Clearly our sessions haven’t been having the desired effect anymore. Now… do you know why you are here?”
The scene fades...
---------------------------
“Becoming a pawn in someone else’s power game? Now that is a new one. Apparently there are those who believe that the Devil can be restrained… can be focused on a singular goal for someone else’s benefit. They wish to harness what they know to be a sure thing and see me ensure that Sasha D.’s side of the power struggle emerges victorious.
As I said… this is a new one.
But what is not new for me is the conflict with Casterillo. See, I went into battle with Casterillo one month ago. I defeated Casterillo one month ago. The record books will confirm this, although Casterillo would deny it himself. And that is really what this is all about, is it not? Had Casterillo taken defeat like a man, had he accepted the hand that fate had dealt him on December 19, well, he might not be staring catastrophe in the face today.
All he had to do was accept defeat when it was dealt, regroup and I might have respected him. Casterillo is certainly not an unworthy foe, albeit a crass, petty one. Instead of being a man and admitting defeat, he still believes that he won. Such a pathetic cretin. And now, because of his hubris, because of his miserable ego, he is being cast as a pawn for Katya D..
How similar we are set to be, Lawrence. But that is where our similarities end. I am the Devil Himself. I have travelled through SCW, brought it’s most powerful performers to their knees. I have a reputation. You… however… you are just… disposable. Expendable. I will always come back again, intent on bringing chaos. No man or woman alive can stop me! But you… if you go, that is it. There will be no hushed comments in the legions following this company wondering if they have seen the last of you. There will be no fear of your return present in the hearts and minds of fools. If you go, you will be forgotten to time.
That is where you and I differ, Lawrence, and that is why you need this match with me. After you previous failed attempt at besting me, you need the world to consider you a threat. You need to completely and utterly decimate me if you want to have a prayer of even glancing at the legacy of broken bones, bloodied bodies, and charred limbs that I leave behind, and Lawrence? You are not good enough. Your previous diatribes against me… your efforts to sound imposing and threatening… they make me laugh. For one wishing to inspire fear, you have already failed miserably. For someone wishing to intimidate others? You are but a child playing a game that you are unfamiliar with, that you are incapable of winning. The very virtue of selecting you to represent her against me should, in and of itself, prove Katya incapable of sound, responsible leadership.
But no matter. It is not for Sasha that I will defeat you. It is not for my minions that I will destroy you… humiliate you… leave you completely and absolutely humbled at my feet. Oh no. I shall do that simply because I am Damian Angel and that is what I do. I will decimate you and break you more than you had ever dreamt possible because I am the Devil Himself and you cannot stop me! And when it is all said and done and you beg me for mercy… I shall look into your eyes, stare into the depths of your soul… and tell you…
No.”
- Damian Angel
Power…
POWER between sisters. Sisters before Misters. Misters cause headaches. Headaches cause MADNESS. Madness causes… chaos!
Casterillo… Larry wishes he could cause chaos. Larry wishes he was more than he is. Larry wishes for Moe and for Curly… for Shemp in the later seasons. Larry wishes most for relevance.
But Larry doesn’t want the world to remember that Larry lost. Larry had this fight before and LARRY LOST! LARRY LOST! LARRY’S LOSS LIVES ON THE LIPS OF LEGIONS! Larry lost because Larry thinks!
Wait, back up.
Larry thinks Larry lost because of me. Moi. Yo. Mig. Mir. Ako. Mnie. Larry didn’t lose because of me. Larry lost… LARRY LOST! Larry lost because Larry got greedy! Larry lost because Larry WANTED to much. Larry WANTED to make a name off of the Devil Himself. Larry LOST because Larry WANTED to use the Devil as a key to his own future! Larry LOST because Larry wanted everyone to see what he could do to the Devil and, when I took a closer look, Larry took his eyes off the prize!
And Larry started to chase me. Around and around and around. And then Larry ran into the Devil again, and this time he was night-night! And Larry LOST!
But don’t listen to what Larry says about it. Because not only did Larry LOST… LARRY LIED! Larry is a LIAR and a SINNER and a THIEF! Larry LIED about the result, telling people he WON. His bio claims that he WON but our eyes did not LIE! Larry LIED! LYING is a SIN! Larry the Liar and Sinner! And a THIEF! He attempted to STEAL the win after it had already been declared! But we do not let him, do we?
No… Larry the Liar needs to be REMINDED that he LOST! He needs to LIVE with the knowledge of his FAILURE! He needs to LIVE knowing that in all his days, he will never… NNNNNNNNNEVVVVVVVVERRRRRRRR… have the POWER or the INFLUENCE that the Devil Himself has! He is a cog… spinning and turning in a machine that is bigger than he is.
Larry won't matter in the end. Larry will LOSE again and be sent spiraling down and down and DOWN. Because that is what Larry does! LARRY LOSES. Heheheheee…"
- Kali
---------------------------
Voice: "Mr. Angel, do you know why you are here?"
In truth, Damian Angel had no idea. From what he was told, he had been incarcerated in the Hell, Michigan Psychiatric Hospital since his wife, Katherine Blackmore, was viciously murdered at the hands of a hooligan in London, England, over a decade ago. But that didn't feel right to him. Something had changed... and though he did not believe in the perils of time travel, nor the practical use of it, someone was lying to him. He looks up at the lights, not turning his head to meet the voice of the therapist who had been brought in to treat him.
Damian: "I assumed that your President had finally grown tired of seeing others command the attention he desires."
Therapist: "Mr. Angel..."
Damian: "I mean, shit... they call me a cultist? I am a leader. I am a community organizer, though perhaps that in and of itself is part of the problem. These political types don't much care for community organizers after the last one."
Therapist: "Mr. Angel, are you making a mockery of me again?"
He was. He knew he was. But he didn't know why, if this was a residual of the sudden exposure in this environment or what.
Damian: “How did I get here?”
Therapist: “Mr. Angel, when your wife was murdered…”
Damian stops, sitting up.
Damian: “Katherine?”
Therapist: “Yes… Katherine was murdered in London, England, taking a knife that had been bound for your own chest.”
Damian sighs, almost reliving the grief of that night for the first time in 11 years. At the time, Damian was SCW World Champion, and had just defeated Shorty Jr. to retain that title, when he was accosted by fans in the parking lot. It was a typical occurrence for the man known as The Devil Himself, the former Hellbound Messiah, and he thought nothing of jawing back at his antagonists. They were likely drunk on the piss-warm beers served within the arena and looking to blow off some steam. What Damian didn’t expect was, on that night, to have one of the rowdy fans pull a knife and lunge at him. But it wasn’t meant to be his night, and Katherine, his beloved, took the blow that had been intended for him. Damian didn’t get a chance to incapacitate the bloke as security was quick onto the scene once they realized what had happened. Six burly guards had tackled the attacker to the ground and, Damian understood, concussed the bastard. He was lucky at the time, because if it wasn’t the six guards subduing him and injuring him, Damian would have outright slaughtered the man right there.
Therapist: “After Katherine’s death, you came to us seeking peace. From what your file says, you told us at the time that you blame yourself, and we could understand why. The knife was meant for you, after all…”
Damian: “And Siona?”
Therapist: “Sonia… your daughter… she was put through the foster system and ultimately ended up with a close friend of Katherine’s… a Miss Kennedy Street.”
Now there was a name that Damian had found familiar. Kennedy and Damian had a contentious relationship… no. That wasn’t true, not in Damian’s mind at least. He had a contentious relationship with Kennedy. In his mind, she was everything he had and lost… everything that was ripped away. Hearing from the Therapist that Kennedy had become guardian of his daughter was… conflicting to him to say the least. But if he had really been in this hospital for 11 years, was he really remembering things that happened? Did he imagine it all? Damian gripped at his head, looking to claw the memories right from his brain.
Therapist: “Mr. Angel… everything that has happened in the last 11 years, since you turned yourself over to us, are things we have allowed to happen. You were an unfit father for that little girl, so we took her away. You had a lot of pent-up aggression, so we allowed you an avenue to dispense of it in a healthy manner, and even then your antics were anything but “healthy”. You set men on fire. You set yourself on fire to prove a point to a man who was simply seeking to continue his career. You wrestled a puppet and outright injured Sesame Street characters. We attempted to parse out your illness, but you always found ways to defy our treatments.”
Damian’s mind wandered through the Therapists words… setting himself on fire? That was something that made sense within the confines of his professional wrestling career. He was never one to show fear. Setting others on fire simply went with the territory. But wrestling a puppet? Sure, that might have been something SCW found amusing at the time. Causing mayhem and destruction on Sesame Street? That is something that Damian also found himself able to rationalize, as placing him in an environment where he would be ill-suited would be a recipe for disaster.
Damian: “I remember that…”
Now was the time for the Therapist’s eyes to open a bit. Damian wasn’t supposed to remember, not as tangible, fathomable memories.
Damian: “I remember causing decimation, destruction, chaos on that show. Injuring their prized red monster.”
Therapist: “Yes, well the treatment had interesting side effects.”
The Therapist sighed in relief, having been able to potentially dismiss Damian’s memories as part of the treatment. But her eyes widened again as Damian shook his head… he was remembering different.
Damian: “I remember being a leader… having followers. My own society. I remember having the world at my fingertips and being able to command the loyalty of anyone I saw. I had my own forces of Armageddon… no… of Har Megiddo…”
Therapist: “Uhhh… yes. Other patients we are attempting the same treatment with.”
Damian: “No. Followers of mine… who would go to the ends of the earth at the snap of my fingers. This is not… this does not feel right.”
Damian sits up, looking at the Therapist, who’s eyes widen.
Damian: “You…”
He flies off of the therapy couch, standing in front of the Therapist.
Damian: “Where have you taken me? WHERE THE FUCK AM I!?”
Without warning, two men larger than Damian burst through the room, one of them jamming a long, pointed needle into the side of his neck. Damian fights against the pain of it, reaching to the side of the neck and pulling it out. He turns to face the men who burst in, but doesn’t get a good look at their faces as his vision blurs. He takes a swing at one, but is caught on the way down. Damian blacks out…
…
Several hours later, the scene returns inside the therapy room. Damian’s eyes reopen and he looks around, trying to bring his eyes into focus. Looking down, he notices his hands bound to the sides of the sofa.
Damian: “What is…?”
Therapist: “You gave us quite a scare earlier, Mr. Angel. Clearly our sessions haven’t been having the desired effect anymore. Now… do you know why you are here?”
The scene fades...
---------------------------
“Becoming a pawn in someone else’s power game? Now that is a new one. Apparently there are those who believe that the Devil can be restrained… can be focused on a singular goal for someone else’s benefit. They wish to harness what they know to be a sure thing and see me ensure that Sasha D.’s side of the power struggle emerges victorious.
As I said… this is a new one.
But what is not new for me is the conflict with Casterillo. See, I went into battle with Casterillo one month ago. I defeated Casterillo one month ago. The record books will confirm this, although Casterillo would deny it himself. And that is really what this is all about, is it not? Had Casterillo taken defeat like a man, had he accepted the hand that fate had dealt him on December 19, well, he might not be staring catastrophe in the face today.
All he had to do was accept defeat when it was dealt, regroup and I might have respected him. Casterillo is certainly not an unworthy foe, albeit a crass, petty one. Instead of being a man and admitting defeat, he still believes that he won. Such a pathetic cretin. And now, because of his hubris, because of his miserable ego, he is being cast as a pawn for Katya D..
How similar we are set to be, Lawrence. But that is where our similarities end. I am the Devil Himself. I have travelled through SCW, brought it’s most powerful performers to their knees. I have a reputation. You… however… you are just… disposable. Expendable. I will always come back again, intent on bringing chaos. No man or woman alive can stop me! But you… if you go, that is it. There will be no hushed comments in the legions following this company wondering if they have seen the last of you. There will be no fear of your return present in the hearts and minds of fools. If you go, you will be forgotten to time.
That is where you and I differ, Lawrence, and that is why you need this match with me. After you previous failed attempt at besting me, you need the world to consider you a threat. You need to completely and utterly decimate me if you want to have a prayer of even glancing at the legacy of broken bones, bloodied bodies, and charred limbs that I leave behind, and Lawrence? You are not good enough. Your previous diatribes against me… your efforts to sound imposing and threatening… they make me laugh. For one wishing to inspire fear, you have already failed miserably. For someone wishing to intimidate others? You are but a child playing a game that you are unfamiliar with, that you are incapable of winning. The very virtue of selecting you to represent her against me should, in and of itself, prove Katya incapable of sound, responsible leadership.
But no matter. It is not for Sasha that I will defeat you. It is not for my minions that I will destroy you… humiliate you… leave you completely and absolutely humbled at my feet. Oh no. I shall do that simply because I am Damian Angel and that is what I do. I will decimate you and break you more than you had ever dreamt possible because I am the Devil Himself and you cannot stop me! And when it is all said and done and you beg me for mercy… I shall look into your eyes, stare into the depths of your soul… and tell you…
No.”
- Damian Angel