Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Sept 8, 2017 22:51:06 GMT
“Freedom.”
Lights come up on Rowan, sitting by the water looking over Ney York Harbor. The Statue of Liberty looms behind her, seeming somehow imposing in the red twilight, the shadows curling in just the right way to seem more menacing than welcoming.
She looks up at the statue above her, and a dark laugh rumbles out from under her mask. “I’ve always found it fascinating how much humanity values freedom. Over the course of human history, few other ideals have driven mankind to feast upon itself than that simple concept. Wars are fought for it. People are murdered in their beds for it. Thousands have been tortured to find it. Rights have been sacrificed to preserve it. Statues have been built to memorialize it…” she gestures to Lady Liberty above her, “and nations have been founded to try to embody it.” She gestures to the skyline of New York City in the distance. “The land of the free – celebrating the ideals of liberty for all, more fervently than almost any other country in the world.”
She laughs again, a cruel and harsh tone slipping into her voice. “A joke far crueler than even I could dream to be.”
She turns back to the camera and stares it down hard. “Take a good, hard look at the cost of freedom. Take a good hard look at all that humanity has suffered, the millions of lives ground to dust, the millions who have perished, just so that others can claim to be free – free to be arrested for driving too fast. Free to starve under wages too meager to support your family. Freedom to freeze in the streets after losing your home because of the banks’ freedom to suddenly raise your mortgage. Freedom to live in a box, performing the monotonous tasks of a machine for the rest of your life, never having the time or funds to see the world or chase your dreams. Freedom to live within the constraints of laws set decades ago that have not adapted to the modern nights. Freedom to be told what to do for the rest of your life - but with a yearly celebration with grills and pyrotechnics to tell yourselves that what you have is freedom. The minds of most would see the lie, but you ignore it all because you hope for a better day. Hope.”
She shakes her head, chuckling still. “I’m sure you remember my feelings on hope – the cancerous chain that binds the world to lies and servitude. An empty promise to keep the people docile by telling them that better may come if they simply do what they are told. Hope of promotion. Hope of exoneration. Hope of a breakthrough. Hope for freedom. Pandora Freeman is the embodiment of this cruel deception, using her place in this company to peddle the lie of hope to the masses. She likes to think herself a hero, personifying the so-called values of hope and freedom, but all she does is tell the world that if they do as they’re told they might one day earn a slightly shinier cage.”
Her eyes betray the look that she is smiling under her mask. “If it’s a better cage she wants… then I am more than happy to provide.”
It was late. Roberto Verona had wanted to return home some time ago, but had much work to finish as the night waned onward. He sipped a glass of scotch as he continued looking through papers and contracts, no small amount of which was connected to his actions against Cable Arcane the night before. The Council certainly seemed to have swollen with pride thanks to the victory that he’d handed them… acting like they’d earned it all on their own merit. He let out an amused snort as he glanced at his computer, monitoring the IWF Twitter Feed to watch for more people who might try to mock him there. It had been immensely cathartic to lay down his punishments throughout the day, along with the occasional reward for those who knew who their boss was.
The lights in Verona’s office flickered, going out entirely for a few seconds before returning. Even then, when the lights returned, the room seemed somehow darker – the shadows longer and more threatening as though the tendrils of darkness would reach out and grab him by the throat. He didn’t see anyone there… but his instincts from his days as a bounty hunter were still sharp enough for him to know that he wasn’t alone.
He finished his scotch.
“I can appreciate a certain flair for the dramatic in the ring,” he mused, not looking up from his desk, “but unless you want to find yourself back in that shithole we found you in you’d do well to remember not to try your mind games with me. Now. How can I help our new Diamonds Champion?”
He rotated his chair to face Rowan, who had been leaning against the window directly behind him. Her eyes glowed ever so slightly in the shadowy room, her arms crossed in front of her with the championship belt slung over her shoulder. She gazed at him in silence for a few long, tense moments… but Verona didn’t even blink as he casually waited for her to speak. At last, Rowan tilted her head slightly.
“You know why I’ve come, Verona.”
He smirked. “One must assume this is about the offered favor on Twitter earlier. I thought you weren’t cashing that in until… what did you say? The opportune moment?”
Her eyes flashed. “I wanted to make preparations. I believe a man such as yourself might call it… insurance.” She unfolded her arms, and revealed a few folded sheets of paper that she handed to him. He opened it carefully, not sure what he was expecting… but it certainly wasn’t what he got. Instead of a letter, he instead found schematics and carefully drawn sketches of a burning ring locked in a steel cell, with carefully drawn diagrams and a few words of explanation. He’d been in the business long enough to know what he was looking at, and moreover know exactly how dangerous what he was holding could be. He smiled.
“I’ll admit I’m surprised, and maybe… maybe… a little impressed. I suspected you’d come for something benefiting The Council, but leave it to you to use your favor with the King to find new and creative ways to hurt people.”
Rowan snorted, almost dismissively. “The Council’s failings and successes offer me little interest,” she replied. “My designs outstrip theirs and my time with them. They are a useful distraction, but my time with them grows short. This benefits me now more than they ever will.”
Verona arched an eyebrow. “So your designs don’t align with theirs?”
Rowan chuckled, and the lights in the room seemed to flicker again. “Mr. Verona… The Council wishes to remake the IWF in their image due to their misguided perceptions of what is and isn’t fair. Cross wants to make an idealized world where everyone has a fair chance. A child’s dream. I like the IWF just as it is: a place where the strong thrive… and the weak are hunted and devoured.”
Verona smirked and glanced back at the paper. “Interesting,” he mused. “I’m willing to book this… depending on who you’re up against. I don’t want to subject a friend to such viciousness.”
Rowan’s posture shifted… seeming almost pleased. The shadows around the room receded. “Your terms are acceptable. The debut will be against one who either stands against you… or is aligned with someone who is.” She held out her hand, slowly and deliberately. “A bargain?”
Verona stared at her hand for a few moments before slowly raising his hand to meet hers. They shook, and Rowan’s eyes flashed again with satisfaction. “A bargain,” he confirmed.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Roberto Verona,” Rowan mused softly. “I’m sure we will find ways to benefit one another again.”
The lights flickered and went dead, leaving the room briefly devoid of light save the sharp and menacing glow of Rowan’s eyes… and when the lights returned she was gone. Verona chuckled to himself as he turned back to his desk, picking up his phone and making a quick call.
“Yeah, this is Verona. I know it’s late. I need you to start working on something we can drop at a moment’s notice. I’ll scan and fax you the details. And let Cavanaugh know that she’s going to be very busy with a couple of diamonds soon.”
He hung up the phone and went back to work, grinning as he poured himself another glass of scotch.
“The worst part of it all, Pandora, is that I truly think that you believe yourself to be a heroic figure who inspires the masses to stand against their inner darkness. You think that somehow by giving it your all and wrestling with that hopeful smile that you’ll somehow make the world a better place – inspire those watching you to be better than they are, to overcome their sins and become heroes like you. If you believe that… then you’re living in a fantasy world. Even if you do give them hope that they can be better than they are, you are only giving them false succor. Like the stone and crystal houses of worship throughout the world, you are only providing them a convenient lie to either keep them from looking up at the true nature of the world around them, or you give them an excuse masquerading as hope or forgiveness for their own monstrous actions.”
Her eyes flash with malicious delight. “Oh, yes, Pandora. Make no mistake – for every occasional child you inspire to be a better person when they grow, you’ve inspired two monsters to believe that the suffering they inflict on the innocent is justified, and ten to remain trapped in the chains of their society. In a world such as this, it is impossible to do good without doing equal – if not greater – harm. The world is full of monsters, Pandora. Full of people who would devour one another if they only believed that they were allowed to. Since the dawn of the species, humanity has thirsted for excuses to inflict immeasurable horrors upon one another. That hasn’t changed. Even those who think that they are the best among mankind only do so to justify the pain they inflict… even you. Especially you. Why else would you have chosen to follow a career that lets you unleash your inner savagery upon your enemies week in and week out? You’re not a good woman surrounded my monsters, Pan… You ARE one. I’ve seen it. I know. I haven’t forgotten what you’re truly afraid of. I saw it in your heart, and I saw it the night I took this belt from you. Your deepest fear isn’t just that the monster within you will be let out of the box… it’s what HE will do when he sees the hypocrisy fall away. What he will do when his inspiration is proven to be nothing but a charlatan, coating herself in bright colors to distract the world from who she really is.”
“You know it’s true… or you wouldn’t have called me sister.”
She laughs quietly for a moment before continuing. “Which is why I’m so looking forward to dragging you into my world at last. Just you and me, in a place where rules are cast aside. Where we can both let loose and embrace every shred of darkness and cruelty within our souls, and let it all come pouring out like blood shed from a vein. The Abyss is as close as you will find to Hell on Earth – two competitors fighting one another in a caged ring of fire, where the only way to win is to break the other’s will to keep going. It is a crucible of suffering unlike anything you have ever been forced to endure. No escape. No mercy. No limits.”
She laughs harder, continuing to do so through her words. “And what makes it all the better is that I know – I have witnessed with my own EYES – your refusal to let yourself go as deep and as dark as you will have to. There are no surprise victories for you to draw upon – no catching me off guard and sneaking a pin, no turning to another in the ring to escape without facing me. Your only way to walk out of that ring with the belt I tore from your limp grasp at Lineage is to push me hard enough that I willingly leave the ring, or to knock me out. You don’t have what it takes to let yourself go that far, Pandora. Maybe you did, once… but not anymore. Not for a long time.”
She shakes her head and slowly begins to move closer to the camera. “You held this belt for a long time, Freeman. You proved that you’re a very capable wrestler. I’m even willing to admit that you are a better technical wrestler than I am. Were this a normal battle for the world we find ourselves in, you and I might be very close to evenly matched. You might have even have the edge.” Her eyes gleam with savage anticipation. “But none of that matters. Not here. Not now. The Abyss Match isn’t about who the better wrestler is, Pandora Freeman – it is a contest of monsters. And no matter how capable a wrestler are…”
She is now close enough to the camera that her face fills the screen. “I am a much more dangerous monster than you can ever hope to be.”
Lights come up on Rowan, sitting by the water looking over Ney York Harbor. The Statue of Liberty looms behind her, seeming somehow imposing in the red twilight, the shadows curling in just the right way to seem more menacing than welcoming.
She looks up at the statue above her, and a dark laugh rumbles out from under her mask. “I’ve always found it fascinating how much humanity values freedom. Over the course of human history, few other ideals have driven mankind to feast upon itself than that simple concept. Wars are fought for it. People are murdered in their beds for it. Thousands have been tortured to find it. Rights have been sacrificed to preserve it. Statues have been built to memorialize it…” she gestures to Lady Liberty above her, “and nations have been founded to try to embody it.” She gestures to the skyline of New York City in the distance. “The land of the free – celebrating the ideals of liberty for all, more fervently than almost any other country in the world.”
She laughs again, a cruel and harsh tone slipping into her voice. “A joke far crueler than even I could dream to be.”
She turns back to the camera and stares it down hard. “Take a good, hard look at the cost of freedom. Take a good hard look at all that humanity has suffered, the millions of lives ground to dust, the millions who have perished, just so that others can claim to be free – free to be arrested for driving too fast. Free to starve under wages too meager to support your family. Freedom to freeze in the streets after losing your home because of the banks’ freedom to suddenly raise your mortgage. Freedom to live in a box, performing the monotonous tasks of a machine for the rest of your life, never having the time or funds to see the world or chase your dreams. Freedom to live within the constraints of laws set decades ago that have not adapted to the modern nights. Freedom to be told what to do for the rest of your life - but with a yearly celebration with grills and pyrotechnics to tell yourselves that what you have is freedom. The minds of most would see the lie, but you ignore it all because you hope for a better day. Hope.”
She shakes her head, chuckling still. “I’m sure you remember my feelings on hope – the cancerous chain that binds the world to lies and servitude. An empty promise to keep the people docile by telling them that better may come if they simply do what they are told. Hope of promotion. Hope of exoneration. Hope of a breakthrough. Hope for freedom. Pandora Freeman is the embodiment of this cruel deception, using her place in this company to peddle the lie of hope to the masses. She likes to think herself a hero, personifying the so-called values of hope and freedom, but all she does is tell the world that if they do as they’re told they might one day earn a slightly shinier cage.”
Her eyes betray the look that she is smiling under her mask. “If it’s a better cage she wants… then I am more than happy to provide.”
August First, IWF Headquarters
It was late. Roberto Verona had wanted to return home some time ago, but had much work to finish as the night waned onward. He sipped a glass of scotch as he continued looking through papers and contracts, no small amount of which was connected to his actions against Cable Arcane the night before. The Council certainly seemed to have swollen with pride thanks to the victory that he’d handed them… acting like they’d earned it all on their own merit. He let out an amused snort as he glanced at his computer, monitoring the IWF Twitter Feed to watch for more people who might try to mock him there. It had been immensely cathartic to lay down his punishments throughout the day, along with the occasional reward for those who knew who their boss was.
The lights in Verona’s office flickered, going out entirely for a few seconds before returning. Even then, when the lights returned, the room seemed somehow darker – the shadows longer and more threatening as though the tendrils of darkness would reach out and grab him by the throat. He didn’t see anyone there… but his instincts from his days as a bounty hunter were still sharp enough for him to know that he wasn’t alone.
He finished his scotch.
“I can appreciate a certain flair for the dramatic in the ring,” he mused, not looking up from his desk, “but unless you want to find yourself back in that shithole we found you in you’d do well to remember not to try your mind games with me. Now. How can I help our new Diamonds Champion?”
He rotated his chair to face Rowan, who had been leaning against the window directly behind him. Her eyes glowed ever so slightly in the shadowy room, her arms crossed in front of her with the championship belt slung over her shoulder. She gazed at him in silence for a few long, tense moments… but Verona didn’t even blink as he casually waited for her to speak. At last, Rowan tilted her head slightly.
“You know why I’ve come, Verona.”
He smirked. “One must assume this is about the offered favor on Twitter earlier. I thought you weren’t cashing that in until… what did you say? The opportune moment?”
Her eyes flashed. “I wanted to make preparations. I believe a man such as yourself might call it… insurance.” She unfolded her arms, and revealed a few folded sheets of paper that she handed to him. He opened it carefully, not sure what he was expecting… but it certainly wasn’t what he got. Instead of a letter, he instead found schematics and carefully drawn sketches of a burning ring locked in a steel cell, with carefully drawn diagrams and a few words of explanation. He’d been in the business long enough to know what he was looking at, and moreover know exactly how dangerous what he was holding could be. He smiled.
“I’ll admit I’m surprised, and maybe… maybe… a little impressed. I suspected you’d come for something benefiting The Council, but leave it to you to use your favor with the King to find new and creative ways to hurt people.”
Rowan snorted, almost dismissively. “The Council’s failings and successes offer me little interest,” she replied. “My designs outstrip theirs and my time with them. They are a useful distraction, but my time with them grows short. This benefits me now more than they ever will.”
Verona arched an eyebrow. “So your designs don’t align with theirs?”
Rowan chuckled, and the lights in the room seemed to flicker again. “Mr. Verona… The Council wishes to remake the IWF in their image due to their misguided perceptions of what is and isn’t fair. Cross wants to make an idealized world where everyone has a fair chance. A child’s dream. I like the IWF just as it is: a place where the strong thrive… and the weak are hunted and devoured.”
Verona smirked and glanced back at the paper. “Interesting,” he mused. “I’m willing to book this… depending on who you’re up against. I don’t want to subject a friend to such viciousness.”
Rowan’s posture shifted… seeming almost pleased. The shadows around the room receded. “Your terms are acceptable. The debut will be against one who either stands against you… or is aligned with someone who is.” She held out her hand, slowly and deliberately. “A bargain?”
Verona stared at her hand for a few moments before slowly raising his hand to meet hers. They shook, and Rowan’s eyes flashed again with satisfaction. “A bargain,” he confirmed.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Roberto Verona,” Rowan mused softly. “I’m sure we will find ways to benefit one another again.”
The lights flickered and went dead, leaving the room briefly devoid of light save the sharp and menacing glow of Rowan’s eyes… and when the lights returned she was gone. Verona chuckled to himself as he turned back to his desk, picking up his phone and making a quick call.
“Yeah, this is Verona. I know it’s late. I need you to start working on something we can drop at a moment’s notice. I’ll scan and fax you the details. And let Cavanaugh know that she’s going to be very busy with a couple of diamonds soon.”
He hung up the phone and went back to work, grinning as he poured himself another glass of scotch.
“The worst part of it all, Pandora, is that I truly think that you believe yourself to be a heroic figure who inspires the masses to stand against their inner darkness. You think that somehow by giving it your all and wrestling with that hopeful smile that you’ll somehow make the world a better place – inspire those watching you to be better than they are, to overcome their sins and become heroes like you. If you believe that… then you’re living in a fantasy world. Even if you do give them hope that they can be better than they are, you are only giving them false succor. Like the stone and crystal houses of worship throughout the world, you are only providing them a convenient lie to either keep them from looking up at the true nature of the world around them, or you give them an excuse masquerading as hope or forgiveness for their own monstrous actions.”
Her eyes flash with malicious delight. “Oh, yes, Pandora. Make no mistake – for every occasional child you inspire to be a better person when they grow, you’ve inspired two monsters to believe that the suffering they inflict on the innocent is justified, and ten to remain trapped in the chains of their society. In a world such as this, it is impossible to do good without doing equal – if not greater – harm. The world is full of monsters, Pandora. Full of people who would devour one another if they only believed that they were allowed to. Since the dawn of the species, humanity has thirsted for excuses to inflict immeasurable horrors upon one another. That hasn’t changed. Even those who think that they are the best among mankind only do so to justify the pain they inflict… even you. Especially you. Why else would you have chosen to follow a career that lets you unleash your inner savagery upon your enemies week in and week out? You’re not a good woman surrounded my monsters, Pan… You ARE one. I’ve seen it. I know. I haven’t forgotten what you’re truly afraid of. I saw it in your heart, and I saw it the night I took this belt from you. Your deepest fear isn’t just that the monster within you will be let out of the box… it’s what HE will do when he sees the hypocrisy fall away. What he will do when his inspiration is proven to be nothing but a charlatan, coating herself in bright colors to distract the world from who she really is.”
“You know it’s true… or you wouldn’t have called me sister.”
She laughs quietly for a moment before continuing. “Which is why I’m so looking forward to dragging you into my world at last. Just you and me, in a place where rules are cast aside. Where we can both let loose and embrace every shred of darkness and cruelty within our souls, and let it all come pouring out like blood shed from a vein. The Abyss is as close as you will find to Hell on Earth – two competitors fighting one another in a caged ring of fire, where the only way to win is to break the other’s will to keep going. It is a crucible of suffering unlike anything you have ever been forced to endure. No escape. No mercy. No limits.”
She laughs harder, continuing to do so through her words. “And what makes it all the better is that I know – I have witnessed with my own EYES – your refusal to let yourself go as deep and as dark as you will have to. There are no surprise victories for you to draw upon – no catching me off guard and sneaking a pin, no turning to another in the ring to escape without facing me. Your only way to walk out of that ring with the belt I tore from your limp grasp at Lineage is to push me hard enough that I willingly leave the ring, or to knock me out. You don’t have what it takes to let yourself go that far, Pandora. Maybe you did, once… but not anymore. Not for a long time.”
She shakes her head and slowly begins to move closer to the camera. “You held this belt for a long time, Freeman. You proved that you’re a very capable wrestler. I’m even willing to admit that you are a better technical wrestler than I am. Were this a normal battle for the world we find ourselves in, you and I might be very close to evenly matched. You might have even have the edge.” Her eyes gleam with savage anticipation. “But none of that matters. Not here. Not now. The Abyss Match isn’t about who the better wrestler is, Pandora Freeman – it is a contest of monsters. And no matter how capable a wrestler are…”
She is now close enough to the camera that her face fills the screen. “I am a much more dangerous monster than you can ever hope to be.”
Well howdy there pardner.