Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Jul 20, 2017 17:33:32 GMT
“Do you believe in fate?”
Camera opens on Rowan standing in what looks like an abandoned church. There are holes in the roof, and the windows are shattered, leaving the inside of the building gutted and layered with dust and rot. Rowan stands at the pulpit, gazing down at the empty pews.
“It is an amusing concept, born of mortals hoping to find purpose in their lives for fear of being irrelevant in the cosmic scheme. Humanity, as a whole, has such a crippling fear of mediocrity and insignificance. Billions of lives scurrying from place to place, consuming that of value and excreting waste like an intelligent plague. Each one pushing themselves so hard to believing that they must be important, must be special… even if all that makes them special is simply fulfilling some purpose set for them by some divine will. They link sequences of coincidences alongside one another, tying them together with even the most fragile threads, and insist that there must be some reason that all of these unconnected incidents occurred. It’s really quite pathetic.”
She chuckles as she walks from the pulpit and begins striding slowly through the center aisle. “Destiny is humanity’s teddy bear. Something soft and comforting to cling to, huddled in the dark… but in the end, fate can no more protect you from the cruelties of this world than a stuffed bear can protect you from the man who just gunned down your parents in the next room. And yet, that doesn’t stop either from holding on to such comforting lies… any why? What drives humanity to believe in such fragile, futile things? Things that cannot protect them from the void, but instead inspire them to resist it with strength they never thought they had? In the end, the answer is quite simple.”
She walks close to the camera, searing eyes glaring into the lens. “Hope.”
She sighs, almost wistfully. “Hope is, itself, a lie – but that’s the whole point of it. It is a lie that people can believe in, have faith in, and faith – as we have all learned – can inspire the strength to overcome impossible odds. Hope is a faith that transcends religion, inspiring those who believe in any god, or none. When Shea O’Hara bested me time and again for the Shieldmaiden title, she did so in part because she had hopes to overcome what I unleashed upon her. When Kathleen Conway bested me after, she did so to inspire hope in the Diamonds Division as a whole that fear, in any form, could always be overcome. Hope…”
Rowan’s eyes flash with anger. “Is revolting.”
She continues walking. “Which brings us to Pandora Freeman – The Diamond’s Division’s embodiment of the phrase ‘hope springs eternal’. Rising from relative obscurity to ascend the steps of the Division, eventually claiming her place at its zenith – walking away from Night of the Immortals with the Diamonds Championship in hand. Along the way she has inspired and fostered hope in the hearts of many of her friends and comrades, including those who used that hope to best me. She carries the light of hope within her own heart, hoping for the possible redemption of the IWF’s cruelest and darkest hearts. A shining, radiant beacon of light and hope standing against the rising dark…”
She laughs mockingly. “I could hardly ask for a better target. In my first singles match here in the IWF, I ground Patricia Powers under my heel, herself one who tried to inspire hope in the hearts of others. It was an exhilarating feeling, extinguishing her fragile, perverse dreams in a deluge of agony and terror. To do the same to you… you, whom have many within our company depending on you… That is an opportunity far too sweet to ignore.”
She pauses. “But first… three others stand in my way.”
Xavier Cross strode a second time into Rowan’s compound, only this time he had come alone. He felt a little more comfortable in his surroundings upon the second visit; it always made him uneasy to be in new places. Rowan’s followers eyed him just as before, but though the first time he felt a cold creep up his spine, this time his aura was of pure confidence. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to leave with it.
Rowan gazed at him as he approached her, Dean Harper standing behind her with his arms crossed in displeasure. Rowan herself, however, appraised him with a curious eye, the gold light within less wrathful than usual. When he at last reached where she was sitting, she let out a soft chuckle. “You return. Persistent indeed.”
Cross smiled at her boldly. "Rowan...is this how you treat your guests? A cup of wine would be a good start, or maybe you could tell your Wolves to stop licking their chops each time I walk by?" Chuckling a bit, Cross folded his arms as he looked around. "You know why I'm here. Your words...they echo in my head, like a bad pop song... so catchy, but at its core it strikes a chord in your soul. You want chaos, you will take your chaos. You have an army of followers, I offer you a platoon of brothers to stand side by side. You can help us light the fire to change this world. You will burn bright on your own, but… standing with us, you'll be an unstoppable inferno."
Cross smiled, a bit of fire in his eyes. "They claim that I’m to be the leader. I think even you see it that way. The truth is, I am just a voice, the messenger of a gospel of change. We are equals. I could see you standing among our ranks when this world crumbles, as a Queen in this new world we create... your own realm of chaos.... It sounds so sweet..."
Rowan arched an eyebrow as he spoke, having watched him unblinking as he made his appeal of her rejection of his previous offer. Though it was impossible to be certain through the black and crimson mask, Xavier got the unmistakable impression that whatever maw lurked beyond the fabric was grinning at him.
"Your persistence is an amusing diversion," she intoned, words rippling like silk drawn across a field of bones. "And this time you come into my domain alone, despite the warnings of your..." she chuckled briefly "... guardian angel. Tell me, Xavier Cross... is this effort born of desperation or fascination? Look around you. Look to the pack. Do you think they came here by choice? Or because the minds of mortals are easily swayed, drawn to the unknowable like moths to a flame... both bound to annihilation through their fascination?"
Looking around himself, Cross tilted his head like a curious dog. "You are quite correct on your assumptions. You left an… impression on me. I came here to hear those words a little more. I am the moth, my only drive in life is to get to that light, and right now the brightest light flickers around you..." Stepping forward, he could feel the air tense the closer he got to her. "I have never claimed to be anything more than mortal, I die like any other man...but should I stop living my life out of fear..." his lips twisted into a smirk. "You fascinate me Rowan, there is no mistake in that. The Council was assembled by myself, because I felt something special in each one of those men. I feel something in you, too..." he glances over his shoulder for a moment. "My Guardian angel says many things, but where would be the fun in not coming back here? I might make myself at home." He turned to glance at Dean Harper and gave him a cheeky wink.
Rowan's eyes narrowed, seeming suspicious. "Flattery. A surprising shift in tune... one I hear from the devoted, but rarely from the uninitiated. Perhaps you tempt with honey, thinking me a woman for whom flattery is a lure? Curious." She leans back in her seat. "Tell me, Xavier Cross... do you think I have ever killed?"
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Sweet Rowan, I came here to ask you to join us, not for you to take me to your chambers... or else this conversation would have been very different." He folded his arms a bit. "As beautiful a woman you may be, I came here to speak to a warrior. I know what blood lust feels like. I surrounded myself in it as a child...blood and greed, drugs and guns...So, I answer your question with one of my own. Do you think I care of the blood that stains your hands, or the fact that you are capable of such?"
"That is the last thing that should concern you. Though if you know that I have no hesitation in ending life..." Rowan chuckled briefly…
Then her hand snapped forward, lightning fast as a striking viper, gripping him by the chin and drawing him close. Her skin was searing hot, her breath smelled of blood and ashes. "Then what would keep me from ending yours here? The soul of a would be king... it is a rare indulgence." Something about her scent, drove him mad. The fire that flew off her finger tips as it clutched at his chin, ignited something deep within him. A soft growl escaped his lips.
She laughed before he could answer. "One does not need to approach with lust to appeal to pride with honeyed words. Yet... I am intrigued by your persistence and your crusade. Were I to accept... what would be expected?"
Cross smiled. "Nothing. However, if it ends here, you don't get to see how this all plays out... at least this could prove to be entertaining." his hand slowly reached up, grabbing her wrist. His touch was ice cold, his grip was surprisingly soft. "Why take the soul of a king, when you could have so much more..."
After a moment he released her. "Well, if it's business end, then you're looking at a large increase in income based on merchandise sales...” Rowan looked almost disgusted at the notion that such a thing would intrigue her, and she turned away, raising a hand as though about to dismiss him. Xavier spoke fast to cut her off. “However, you seem like someone who isn't swayed by dollar bills. What you can expect is a buffet of something you love: Chaos. I offer you the world to destroy and reshape in your own image. I offer you everything."
At these words, her eyes flashed, the golden light behind her eyes temporarily lighting the room. "You choose your words well, Xavier Cross. Perhaps I misjudged you." She laughed. "Just understand this, Xavier Cross - There is a reality to me that you have only begun to fathom. I cannot and will not be controlled, and I will betray you in a heartbeat if either convenience or whimsy direct me. If there is some element in the back of your brain that thinks me an agent for you to control, then you will find yourself consumed by the flame you dance so close to. But if you are as bent on making this... Faustian turn... then I will see if you have the will and the strength to hold to your end of the bargain. Should you prove weak, or another prove stronger... know that this will be a very bad day for you."
Behind her, Dean glared at Xavier, hate burning in his eyes.
Smiling softly, Cross takes a deep breath, cherishing the moment. "I am no fool, I don't seek control over any. I just want to make this world better than what I was given. I have three children, I hope one day the world we create is one they can prosper in. I don't search out power - I seek to destroy it, or spread it. Strength is in numbers, and I'd be a fool to think I'd do it on my own."
Leaning closer to her, a whisper escaped his lips. "I expect those I hand weapons to to seize a moment to pierce my back... I just hope when you do, it's through my heart so I can see those eyes one last time..." stepping away a bit, Cross looked around at her followers, he could feel many senses coming off them, especially Dean. He chuckled at the sudden rush, before turning his attention back to Rowan.
"As for your schemes behind scenes...I come here expecting the unknown, and it is what I've received. I find excitement knowing that I may draw my final breath, especially at those hands..."
Rowan reversed his grip on her wrist so that their hands were clasped – gripping Xavier’s hand so tight that his bones nearly cracked under the heat and pressure. Her eyes flashed with satisfaction as the shadows around them seemed to creep closer to them before she finally said the words he’d been so hoping to hear: “Then we have a bargain.”
“This last week I was pitted against two women and emerged the undeniable victor, with one of my opponents left broken in ways she will never recover from. It was good to return to my roots of sending people home for good, never to return from the injuries they suffered. It made me nostalgic for the old days before the IWF brought me into the fold. Destroying Maxine Valentine reminded me how good it feels to truly annihilate someone, to destroy someone’s dreams for a future – to truly and completely crush their hopes. Which of you will it be on Sacrifice, I wonder?
It could potentially be Sara Garcia… and that truly is the first time her name has been said next to the word ‘potential’ in a very long time, isn’t it? The loyal sister, happily slaving away at Paige’s feet, kissing the ground she walks on while begging for even the smallest scraps of the former champion’s glory. You do know, Sara, that your sister hasn’t loved you in a long time? You’re just being used as a stepstool for Paige to ascend, and even then it seems that you’ve been failing her in that regard. How long do you think it will be before she discards you for a more useful tool, Sara? One who wins matches, one who does her job well enough that the world doesn’t look on Paige like a joke who only cheats her way to undeserved acclaim? How long do you think it will be before she sneers at you with the same disgust the same way she does with the rest of the world, recognizing you as nothing more than a broken shell bearing the weight of both of your failures? It would almost be a mercy to put you out of your coming misery now while you still feel the illusion of your sister’s love… even though it would bring me deep satisfaction to watch you suffer through the exquisite agony of losing your family, as I once did.”
She snorts derisively. “Brooklyn Madrox… I’d forgotten you existed. It seems that since the end of the Diamonds in the Rough Tournament, the IWF did as well. Not surprising. Eliminated in the first round of the tournament, your only action beyond a defeat at the hands of Sarah Richardson – another forgotten name – was two quick but entirely pointless displays in a pair of battle royales. I remember you being in the ring in both of them, Brooklyn… just so much meat to flesh out the tournament and the matches, and in the end an entirely disposable waste of space. You are the least of my concerns, Madrox. The same creature who cast you out of the ring in your very first match here in the IWF, the behemoth who tossed you out of the ring like a ragdoll? I shattered her spine just a few days ago. And you think you can pose a threat to me? Pretension. I have very little doubt, Brooklyn, that even if I don’t win the Fatal Four Way on Sacrifice… whoever wins will be doing so at your expense. Because that’s all you are: a pretty face to fill the grey area where they couldn’t be bothered to place real talent, and that’s all you’ll ever amount to.
Which brings us at last to Helena Sawyer, the only other woman in the ring to accomplish anything of note this year. Though I wonder which Helena I will see when I step into that ring? Will it be the destroyer who fought so hard against Eternity in the Dragon’s Den, or the girl who is forced to watch as her creation slips out of her control like Frankenstein’s promethean? Oh yes, Helena – I see into your shattered psyche, and I know full well the war of madness that rages within your splintered mind. You’ve returned to the ring against your own true will, driven by the monsters within. I look forward to dragging her out even harder than before, crushing the old you to ash until little Michelle is a long forgotten memory, leaving her little lady love all alone with only shadows to remember you by. In you I see potential, Helena. You could be a force of chaos and misery here that I would not dare to chain. I look forward to tasting your mettle at long last, oh Daughter of Misery. Once your weaker half is no more than one of Amityville’s phantoms, I think you and I could see eye to eye on a great many things indeed... But right now? You are uselessly conflicted with yourself and in my way, making you fit only to be cast aside.”
Rowan laughs. “All three of you will know pain before the end. None of you will walk away from Sacrifice unscathed, unscarred – be the wounds of flesh or of mind. I’m almost glad that I lost the chance to become Shieldmaiden those weeks ago… because if I had claimed that title, I wouldn’t be able to be here to annihilate the three of you. If I didn’t know better… I’d almost say that it was...well... Fate.”
She walks calmly towards the camera, as though about to walk through it. “And when I’m through with them, Pandora? I’ll be seeing you at Lineage to end your story at last.”
The camera rises as Rowan passes under, and the church behind her bursts into flames. The camera holds on the growing inferno for a few seconds before fading to black.
Camera opens on Rowan standing in what looks like an abandoned church. There are holes in the roof, and the windows are shattered, leaving the inside of the building gutted and layered with dust and rot. Rowan stands at the pulpit, gazing down at the empty pews.
“It is an amusing concept, born of mortals hoping to find purpose in their lives for fear of being irrelevant in the cosmic scheme. Humanity, as a whole, has such a crippling fear of mediocrity and insignificance. Billions of lives scurrying from place to place, consuming that of value and excreting waste like an intelligent plague. Each one pushing themselves so hard to believing that they must be important, must be special… even if all that makes them special is simply fulfilling some purpose set for them by some divine will. They link sequences of coincidences alongside one another, tying them together with even the most fragile threads, and insist that there must be some reason that all of these unconnected incidents occurred. It’s really quite pathetic.”
She chuckles as she walks from the pulpit and begins striding slowly through the center aisle. “Destiny is humanity’s teddy bear. Something soft and comforting to cling to, huddled in the dark… but in the end, fate can no more protect you from the cruelties of this world than a stuffed bear can protect you from the man who just gunned down your parents in the next room. And yet, that doesn’t stop either from holding on to such comforting lies… any why? What drives humanity to believe in such fragile, futile things? Things that cannot protect them from the void, but instead inspire them to resist it with strength they never thought they had? In the end, the answer is quite simple.”
She walks close to the camera, searing eyes glaring into the lens. “Hope.”
She sighs, almost wistfully. “Hope is, itself, a lie – but that’s the whole point of it. It is a lie that people can believe in, have faith in, and faith – as we have all learned – can inspire the strength to overcome impossible odds. Hope is a faith that transcends religion, inspiring those who believe in any god, or none. When Shea O’Hara bested me time and again for the Shieldmaiden title, she did so in part because she had hopes to overcome what I unleashed upon her. When Kathleen Conway bested me after, she did so to inspire hope in the Diamonds Division as a whole that fear, in any form, could always be overcome. Hope…”
Rowan’s eyes flash with anger. “Is revolting.”
She continues walking. “Which brings us to Pandora Freeman – The Diamond’s Division’s embodiment of the phrase ‘hope springs eternal’. Rising from relative obscurity to ascend the steps of the Division, eventually claiming her place at its zenith – walking away from Night of the Immortals with the Diamonds Championship in hand. Along the way she has inspired and fostered hope in the hearts of many of her friends and comrades, including those who used that hope to best me. She carries the light of hope within her own heart, hoping for the possible redemption of the IWF’s cruelest and darkest hearts. A shining, radiant beacon of light and hope standing against the rising dark…”
She laughs mockingly. “I could hardly ask for a better target. In my first singles match here in the IWF, I ground Patricia Powers under my heel, herself one who tried to inspire hope in the hearts of others. It was an exhilarating feeling, extinguishing her fragile, perverse dreams in a deluge of agony and terror. To do the same to you… you, whom have many within our company depending on you… That is an opportunity far too sweet to ignore.”
She pauses. “But first… three others stand in my way.”
One Week Ago
Xavier Cross strode a second time into Rowan’s compound, only this time he had come alone. He felt a little more comfortable in his surroundings upon the second visit; it always made him uneasy to be in new places. Rowan’s followers eyed him just as before, but though the first time he felt a cold creep up his spine, this time his aura was of pure confidence. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to leave with it.
Rowan gazed at him as he approached her, Dean Harper standing behind her with his arms crossed in displeasure. Rowan herself, however, appraised him with a curious eye, the gold light within less wrathful than usual. When he at last reached where she was sitting, she let out a soft chuckle. “You return. Persistent indeed.”
Cross smiled at her boldly. "Rowan...is this how you treat your guests? A cup of wine would be a good start, or maybe you could tell your Wolves to stop licking their chops each time I walk by?" Chuckling a bit, Cross folded his arms as he looked around. "You know why I'm here. Your words...they echo in my head, like a bad pop song... so catchy, but at its core it strikes a chord in your soul. You want chaos, you will take your chaos. You have an army of followers, I offer you a platoon of brothers to stand side by side. You can help us light the fire to change this world. You will burn bright on your own, but… standing with us, you'll be an unstoppable inferno."
Cross smiled, a bit of fire in his eyes. "They claim that I’m to be the leader. I think even you see it that way. The truth is, I am just a voice, the messenger of a gospel of change. We are equals. I could see you standing among our ranks when this world crumbles, as a Queen in this new world we create... your own realm of chaos.... It sounds so sweet..."
Rowan arched an eyebrow as he spoke, having watched him unblinking as he made his appeal of her rejection of his previous offer. Though it was impossible to be certain through the black and crimson mask, Xavier got the unmistakable impression that whatever maw lurked beyond the fabric was grinning at him.
"Your persistence is an amusing diversion," she intoned, words rippling like silk drawn across a field of bones. "And this time you come into my domain alone, despite the warnings of your..." she chuckled briefly "... guardian angel. Tell me, Xavier Cross... is this effort born of desperation or fascination? Look around you. Look to the pack. Do you think they came here by choice? Or because the minds of mortals are easily swayed, drawn to the unknowable like moths to a flame... both bound to annihilation through their fascination?"
Looking around himself, Cross tilted his head like a curious dog. "You are quite correct on your assumptions. You left an… impression on me. I came here to hear those words a little more. I am the moth, my only drive in life is to get to that light, and right now the brightest light flickers around you..." Stepping forward, he could feel the air tense the closer he got to her. "I have never claimed to be anything more than mortal, I die like any other man...but should I stop living my life out of fear..." his lips twisted into a smirk. "You fascinate me Rowan, there is no mistake in that. The Council was assembled by myself, because I felt something special in each one of those men. I feel something in you, too..." he glances over his shoulder for a moment. "My Guardian angel says many things, but where would be the fun in not coming back here? I might make myself at home." He turned to glance at Dean Harper and gave him a cheeky wink.
Rowan's eyes narrowed, seeming suspicious. "Flattery. A surprising shift in tune... one I hear from the devoted, but rarely from the uninitiated. Perhaps you tempt with honey, thinking me a woman for whom flattery is a lure? Curious." She leans back in her seat. "Tell me, Xavier Cross... do you think I have ever killed?"
A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Sweet Rowan, I came here to ask you to join us, not for you to take me to your chambers... or else this conversation would have been very different." He folded his arms a bit. "As beautiful a woman you may be, I came here to speak to a warrior. I know what blood lust feels like. I surrounded myself in it as a child...blood and greed, drugs and guns...So, I answer your question with one of my own. Do you think I care of the blood that stains your hands, or the fact that you are capable of such?"
"That is the last thing that should concern you. Though if you know that I have no hesitation in ending life..." Rowan chuckled briefly…
Then her hand snapped forward, lightning fast as a striking viper, gripping him by the chin and drawing him close. Her skin was searing hot, her breath smelled of blood and ashes. "Then what would keep me from ending yours here? The soul of a would be king... it is a rare indulgence." Something about her scent, drove him mad. The fire that flew off her finger tips as it clutched at his chin, ignited something deep within him. A soft growl escaped his lips.
She laughed before he could answer. "One does not need to approach with lust to appeal to pride with honeyed words. Yet... I am intrigued by your persistence and your crusade. Were I to accept... what would be expected?"
Cross smiled. "Nothing. However, if it ends here, you don't get to see how this all plays out... at least this could prove to be entertaining." his hand slowly reached up, grabbing her wrist. His touch was ice cold, his grip was surprisingly soft. "Why take the soul of a king, when you could have so much more..."
After a moment he released her. "Well, if it's business end, then you're looking at a large increase in income based on merchandise sales...” Rowan looked almost disgusted at the notion that such a thing would intrigue her, and she turned away, raising a hand as though about to dismiss him. Xavier spoke fast to cut her off. “However, you seem like someone who isn't swayed by dollar bills. What you can expect is a buffet of something you love: Chaos. I offer you the world to destroy and reshape in your own image. I offer you everything."
At these words, her eyes flashed, the golden light behind her eyes temporarily lighting the room. "You choose your words well, Xavier Cross. Perhaps I misjudged you." She laughed. "Just understand this, Xavier Cross - There is a reality to me that you have only begun to fathom. I cannot and will not be controlled, and I will betray you in a heartbeat if either convenience or whimsy direct me. If there is some element in the back of your brain that thinks me an agent for you to control, then you will find yourself consumed by the flame you dance so close to. But if you are as bent on making this... Faustian turn... then I will see if you have the will and the strength to hold to your end of the bargain. Should you prove weak, or another prove stronger... know that this will be a very bad day for you."
Behind her, Dean glared at Xavier, hate burning in his eyes.
Smiling softly, Cross takes a deep breath, cherishing the moment. "I am no fool, I don't seek control over any. I just want to make this world better than what I was given. I have three children, I hope one day the world we create is one they can prosper in. I don't search out power - I seek to destroy it, or spread it. Strength is in numbers, and I'd be a fool to think I'd do it on my own."
Leaning closer to her, a whisper escaped his lips. "I expect those I hand weapons to to seize a moment to pierce my back... I just hope when you do, it's through my heart so I can see those eyes one last time..." stepping away a bit, Cross looked around at her followers, he could feel many senses coming off them, especially Dean. He chuckled at the sudden rush, before turning his attention back to Rowan.
"As for your schemes behind scenes...I come here expecting the unknown, and it is what I've received. I find excitement knowing that I may draw my final breath, especially at those hands..."
Rowan reversed his grip on her wrist so that their hands were clasped – gripping Xavier’s hand so tight that his bones nearly cracked under the heat and pressure. Her eyes flashed with satisfaction as the shadows around them seemed to creep closer to them before she finally said the words he’d been so hoping to hear: “Then we have a bargain.”
“This last week I was pitted against two women and emerged the undeniable victor, with one of my opponents left broken in ways she will never recover from. It was good to return to my roots of sending people home for good, never to return from the injuries they suffered. It made me nostalgic for the old days before the IWF brought me into the fold. Destroying Maxine Valentine reminded me how good it feels to truly annihilate someone, to destroy someone’s dreams for a future – to truly and completely crush their hopes. Which of you will it be on Sacrifice, I wonder?
It could potentially be Sara Garcia… and that truly is the first time her name has been said next to the word ‘potential’ in a very long time, isn’t it? The loyal sister, happily slaving away at Paige’s feet, kissing the ground she walks on while begging for even the smallest scraps of the former champion’s glory. You do know, Sara, that your sister hasn’t loved you in a long time? You’re just being used as a stepstool for Paige to ascend, and even then it seems that you’ve been failing her in that regard. How long do you think it will be before she discards you for a more useful tool, Sara? One who wins matches, one who does her job well enough that the world doesn’t look on Paige like a joke who only cheats her way to undeserved acclaim? How long do you think it will be before she sneers at you with the same disgust the same way she does with the rest of the world, recognizing you as nothing more than a broken shell bearing the weight of both of your failures? It would almost be a mercy to put you out of your coming misery now while you still feel the illusion of your sister’s love… even though it would bring me deep satisfaction to watch you suffer through the exquisite agony of losing your family, as I once did.”
She snorts derisively. “Brooklyn Madrox… I’d forgotten you existed. It seems that since the end of the Diamonds in the Rough Tournament, the IWF did as well. Not surprising. Eliminated in the first round of the tournament, your only action beyond a defeat at the hands of Sarah Richardson – another forgotten name – was two quick but entirely pointless displays in a pair of battle royales. I remember you being in the ring in both of them, Brooklyn… just so much meat to flesh out the tournament and the matches, and in the end an entirely disposable waste of space. You are the least of my concerns, Madrox. The same creature who cast you out of the ring in your very first match here in the IWF, the behemoth who tossed you out of the ring like a ragdoll? I shattered her spine just a few days ago. And you think you can pose a threat to me? Pretension. I have very little doubt, Brooklyn, that even if I don’t win the Fatal Four Way on Sacrifice… whoever wins will be doing so at your expense. Because that’s all you are: a pretty face to fill the grey area where they couldn’t be bothered to place real talent, and that’s all you’ll ever amount to.
Which brings us at last to Helena Sawyer, the only other woman in the ring to accomplish anything of note this year. Though I wonder which Helena I will see when I step into that ring? Will it be the destroyer who fought so hard against Eternity in the Dragon’s Den, or the girl who is forced to watch as her creation slips out of her control like Frankenstein’s promethean? Oh yes, Helena – I see into your shattered psyche, and I know full well the war of madness that rages within your splintered mind. You’ve returned to the ring against your own true will, driven by the monsters within. I look forward to dragging her out even harder than before, crushing the old you to ash until little Michelle is a long forgotten memory, leaving her little lady love all alone with only shadows to remember you by. In you I see potential, Helena. You could be a force of chaos and misery here that I would not dare to chain. I look forward to tasting your mettle at long last, oh Daughter of Misery. Once your weaker half is no more than one of Amityville’s phantoms, I think you and I could see eye to eye on a great many things indeed... But right now? You are uselessly conflicted with yourself and in my way, making you fit only to be cast aside.”
Rowan laughs. “All three of you will know pain before the end. None of you will walk away from Sacrifice unscathed, unscarred – be the wounds of flesh or of mind. I’m almost glad that I lost the chance to become Shieldmaiden those weeks ago… because if I had claimed that title, I wouldn’t be able to be here to annihilate the three of you. If I didn’t know better… I’d almost say that it was...well... Fate.”
She walks calmly towards the camera, as though about to walk through it. “And when I’m through with them, Pandora? I’ll be seeing you at Lineage to end your story at last.”
The camera rises as Rowan passes under, and the church behind her bursts into flames. The camera holds on the growing inferno for a few seconds before fading to black.
Well howdy there pardner.