Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Nov 22, 2017 20:54:41 GMT
“I think even the most broken simpleton can see that fate leans in the favor of those who hold power.”
The camera finds Rowan in the Centralia compound, sitting easily on her throne with countless thralls kneeling around her in silent, reverent supplication.
“Survival of the Fittest is more than just the name of a wrestling event. It is more, even, than a scientific theory of the nature of evolution. It is a philosophy. A lifestyle. A calling. A faith. The strong endure through their ruinous predation upon the weak, and the weak pray for one of their own to eventually grow strong enough to defend them… but in the end, all they do is shift the balance of predator and prey so that, soon enough, they are the hunters that they once so greatly feared… assuming that they are not driven to oblivion in the process, condemned to naught but ash and memory so that a new prey might be given the chance to ascend.”
She chuckles maliciously and her eyes flash as she leans forward.
“This is the philosophy that I have encouraged since the day I walked into this company. This is one of the founding principles upon which the Pack is based. We are the wolves in the valley. We are the hunters stalking their prey – whether weak targets for an easy meal or big game for the sake of challenge and sport. Alone we may have vulnerabilities that other would be hunters might exploit… but when the Pack stands together?”
The video is intercut with the Pack’s victories in tag matches or dominant displays when working together against other groups.
“We are, simply put… The Fittest.”
Dean and Maxine step out from behind Rowan’s throne, standing quietly as they stare at the camera.
“And at Survival of the Fittest, three of us will stand on one side facing down these would-be challengers. A disparate band of warring cretins drawn together by pride and greed than by unified purpose. People whose disputes run deep and fetid, called upon to stand together against five who have proven their dominance time and again… three of whom are united by a purpose far greater than simply retaining what we have fought for.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“And the two who stand alongside us? They have too much to lose to dare risk turning against us. Both through pride of clinging desperately to those belts of metal and cured skin that gives them relevance and through the pride of wishing to maintain a façade of being too ‘noble’ to betray their allies, Jayson Matthews and Andrew Jacobsen will be useful, albeit temporary, allies for the Pack come Survival of the Fittest. In truth, we welcome their presence at our side. They have proven themselves to be hunters among prey in battles past, and so long as they remain… then they will stand among kin.”
She laughs outright now, her voice echoing hauntingly through the compound. “So despair, disparate challengers from your wayward paths, who have journeyed far, but alone. You walk brazenly into the lair of the Pack. Some of you have already suffered and lost at our hands… and that was when you stood against one of us alone. Now that my most loyal and my most virulent will stand at my side…”
She stands as the camera closes on her. “No force on this earth can prevent your condemnation to the Abyss.”
Rowan sat in a cool, dark room in the main compound of Centralia. This was not the same room in which she usually gathered – this was smaller, more private, and more prone to enjoying the luxuries and comforts that many wrestlers may have gotten used to over the years. There were six in the room, including herself. Dean Harper, her most loyal, sat directly across from her, waiting for her to speak. Maxine Valentine, her first true convert, sat at Dean’s side, a smile playing at her face as she enjoyed the comfort of closeness with the smaller man. Caleb Lockwood sat a little away from the rest, already enjoying some of the meal that had been set out for everyone. It took him time to come to trust everyone there, but he was coming closer every meal, even if only by centimeters. Brooklyn sat on the other side of Dean, seeming to have grown accustomed to the Pack faster than even Rowan had anticipated. Among the darker visages of those around her, Brooklyn stuck out like a sort thumb, the obvious outsider… but her clear comfort among those around her shone like a beacon of just what the Pack truly represented, the truth behind the touted philosophy.
The sixth waited behind Rowan, out of sight and silent in the shadows. He was the newest among them, but the quickest to align. The circumstances of his becoming facilitated that. Soon, she hoped, he would sit among them as equals. For now he was not ready, and until he was he would stay apart… but already he had begun to see the compound at home, or at least so it seemed.
Rowan took a deep breath after taking in the presence of each of her packmates, focusing on them with more than just sight for a few long moments, before she finally spoke.
“Thank you for coming,” she began simply. “I know that I have been… absent, of late. More withdrawn than usual. That you have bonded in my erstwhile absence is heartening to see.”
There was an uncertainty in her tone. An almost warmth. Things that were never seen outside this room. This is where she would withdraw, either alone or with her most trusted. This is where she was vulnerable. This is where she let herself feel.
“I am… grateful,” she continued slowly, carefully. “Grateful that all of you have chosen to come, to remain, to stay. Each and every one of you have felt the sting of what it is to be an outcast. Each and every one of you has sought home, a home that some never knew before coming here. From those who have been at my side for longer than most know…” she shared a brief moment of eye contact with Dean, “… to those who none – even I – would have predicted would come to be so valued a part of this pack.” She locked eyes with Brooklyn for a brief moment, and girl smiled at her without even a flinch. She was not afraid of Rowan anymore. She knew that as long as this was her home, Rowan would be her protector.
“Things are changing,” Rowan continued, shifting her focus away from Brooklyn to address the room as a whole. “Events have been put into motion that cannot, and should not, be stopped. All of us will be tested – us and many others beyond. Some may fail, while others will succeed. I cannot see what it will lead to.”
Her eyes pulsed a warm golden glow. “But I believe that you will, all of you, endure and survive it. Together we have built a family. Strong. Loyal. Enduring. I know that none of you will abandon me, as I hope that you all know I will never abandon you.”
She looks at all but the figure behind her, one at a time, breathing steadily. “I am grateful to you all for standing with me. While I know that I am strong enough that it is not impossible that I could face what comes alone… I know well that the wolf is stronger with those she trusts. With her pack. With her family.”
The light in her eyes fades. “You have all trusted me with your darkest truths. You have opened yourselves to me. Allowed yourselves to be vulnerable before me. I did not betray you then – faith and trust rewarded. It is time for me to repay you.”
With slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her arms to the back of her head… and carefully removed her mask. The Pack sat in silence as they watched the mask fall away, showing the true Rowan beneath.
None of them flinched.
Rowan smiled, a smile that for the first time in memory was seen by more than just a shift in the eyes. “I trust you all. No matter what comes, or what we are called upon to stand against… I will always stand with you. For every cruelty I inflict upon the outside world, I shall double in my protection of you all. I will never abandon you by choice, and if I am ever forced away…”
She closes her eyes. “I know that you will come for me, and punish those who dared separate us.”
“Vivienne Rogers. A fresh young face on a bright young mind. I have not yet properly welcomed you to the Imperial Wrestling Federation. On Sunday I will be able to properly rectify that. This is not the first time you have been called upon to stand against my Pack… but it is the first time that you will have stood face to face with me. As many of the women in this division will tell you… it is an experience that I strive to leave its marks upon your memory, your spirit, and your flesh.”
Her head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing hungrily as she stalks the camera. After a few moments she shifts her gaze from the camera to a Thrall wearing a mask of Vivienne’s face, eyes crossed out with blood, the sockets seeming scorched and hollow.
“I’ve known countless creatures like you, Vivienne. Girls who come to this business with hearts full of hope and minds full of charitable intent. Women who strive to do good, to be perfect little dolls as flawless as porcelain. The only difference between you and them is that, despite your mewling claims to the contrary, they had to work harder to get as far in their lives as you have. They haven’t been able to rely on their father’s reputation to convince their trainers that they belong here.”
She growls slightly under her mask, tracing her fingers around the Vivienne-Thrall’s throat. “I can hear your retort on the wind. Your whining cries that you’ve clearly never relied on your father’s name, that you would never rely on a thing so corrupt as nepotism. If you believe that, then you are a fool – whether you let yourself acknowledge it our not, at some point down the line you’ve had an advantage of your name that led some other, more talented, more interesting, more unique talent at the wayside. Every one of us, no matter how noble in word, has destroyed the hopes and dreams of another in the long ascent to reach these heights. Someone is jobless because of you. Someone had to abandon their dreams and settle for mediocrity because of you. Someone out there gave up everything they had – family, friends, and funds – for a chance to make it in this business… and you crushed it. It’s true for everyone.”
She lets out a sharp, cruel snort. “At least I am willing to acknowledge their loss. Acknowledge that I am a monster for what I did to them. I don’t pretend to be a good little princess who wouldn’t hurt a fly while standing on a podium built on crushed dreams and shattered hope… and at least I never had the advantage of a famous name to drag one of those more talented names into ignominy.”
She turns her attention back to the camera and leans in close. “I’m going to make you look. Make you stare into your deepest sins, away from all those who have said that they loved and would protect you. Though you will be surrounded by the hungry and the vengeful amid their plots to take prizes for their own, you will have never in your life been more alone than you will be on Sunday Night when the two of us meet. Together we’ll show the world who you really are… and your father will be so ashamed when he sees that ugly truth. And Ciara?”
Her eyes flash with sadistic pleasure.
"... You'll find out soon that your precious Ciara may have other things on her mind when the time comes."
She chuckles as she turns to a second Thrall, this one in a mask of Shea O’Hara, eyes similarly mutilated.
“Which brings me to my… oldest of enemies.”
Rowan’s eyes flash a dangerous gold as she circles the ersatz Shea, rage clear in her gaze as she gently traces the Thrall’s cheek with a gloved hand… fingers shaking almost imperceptibly with barely-contained fury.
“You knew I couldn’t leave you alone forever… but you seemed so intent on holding on to that Shieldmaiden title for as long as you possibly could. I can be a patient huntress, Shea. I can wait for a long time for my prey to come into my lair… but my patience is not infinite, and your reign was beginning to test it.”
Her voice grows thick with rage as she continues to speak, volume intensifying. “I waited, O’Hara. I waited weeks and weeks for you to emerge from your safety net so that we could resume our dance, but week after week you refused to yield. I carved my way through much less worthy creatures waiting for you to emerge from your little fortress, but you continued to deny me through it all. Finally it became clear to me that I could not afford to simply wait for the time to come where someone would strip you of that belt naturally… that if I wanted it done right, then I would have to take steps myself to move things along.”
“I’ve known since I first earned this title that you’d come for me as soon as your Shieldmaiden reign was over, Shea O’Hara. You and I are destined for so much more than the little dance we shared over the Shieldmaiden a few months ago. You and I have shared too much for such an end. No. Through all the rivalries, every battle, every feud… for every Charity Crowne or Pandora Freeman…
You are the one who defines me.”
She calms, eyes flashing again as she controls her breathing, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
“When you called my name two weeks ago… did you know that you were merely starting the fire? Setting the first spark in a battle that will burn to the very heart of the Diamonds Division? The entire IWF? The flame that let in that ring as I dragged you through the inferno is merely the beginning of a wildfire... and many more will be caught in its path before the storm quenches the heat. Did you know that by doing so you have begun us on a path that will lead to only the suffering of innocents?”
It is clear that she is grinning savagely under her face mask. “I did, Shea. And even if you saw the same thing I did… I know that you are too hell-bent on my destruction that it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
She turns back to the camera, the masked Thralls standing in front of her, flanking her. “The two of you share in common the craving for the world to see you as heroes. Heroes walking into the dragon’s lair, striking the two women – both members of the most dominant force of Oblivion in the IWF today – to try to show the world that they’re good. That they’re saviors. That when children look to the sky and call for a savior, that there are those who might just answer.”
In one swift motion she takes both of the thralls to the ground with a double chokeslam, pinning them both to the concrete floor as the camera shifts angles to follow. The hollowed and disfigured masks of Vivienne and Shea stare brokenly at the camera as Rowan keeps speaking.
“You deceive yourselves and others. You are not heroes. You will not end this. Survival of the Fittest is only the beginning of something much more dangerous on its way to this fetid and strangled world.”
The thralls bust into flame as she lies between the two of them, still pinning their struggling bodies to the floor as they scream in fear in pain, the flames licking their way up Rowan’s arms.
“And by the end of it all… you… and every girl like you… every would-be hero… will be Extinct.”
The camera cuts to black, audio lingering for a few seconds on the sounds of the Thrall’s screaming.
The camera finds Rowan in the Centralia compound, sitting easily on her throne with countless thralls kneeling around her in silent, reverent supplication.
“Survival of the Fittest is more than just the name of a wrestling event. It is more, even, than a scientific theory of the nature of evolution. It is a philosophy. A lifestyle. A calling. A faith. The strong endure through their ruinous predation upon the weak, and the weak pray for one of their own to eventually grow strong enough to defend them… but in the end, all they do is shift the balance of predator and prey so that, soon enough, they are the hunters that they once so greatly feared… assuming that they are not driven to oblivion in the process, condemned to naught but ash and memory so that a new prey might be given the chance to ascend.”
She chuckles maliciously and her eyes flash as she leans forward.
“This is the philosophy that I have encouraged since the day I walked into this company. This is one of the founding principles upon which the Pack is based. We are the wolves in the valley. We are the hunters stalking their prey – whether weak targets for an easy meal or big game for the sake of challenge and sport. Alone we may have vulnerabilities that other would be hunters might exploit… but when the Pack stands together?”
The video is intercut with the Pack’s victories in tag matches or dominant displays when working together against other groups.
“We are, simply put… The Fittest.”
Dean and Maxine step out from behind Rowan’s throne, standing quietly as they stare at the camera.
“And at Survival of the Fittest, three of us will stand on one side facing down these would-be challengers. A disparate band of warring cretins drawn together by pride and greed than by unified purpose. People whose disputes run deep and fetid, called upon to stand together against five who have proven their dominance time and again… three of whom are united by a purpose far greater than simply retaining what we have fought for.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“And the two who stand alongside us? They have too much to lose to dare risk turning against us. Both through pride of clinging desperately to those belts of metal and cured skin that gives them relevance and through the pride of wishing to maintain a façade of being too ‘noble’ to betray their allies, Jayson Matthews and Andrew Jacobsen will be useful, albeit temporary, allies for the Pack come Survival of the Fittest. In truth, we welcome their presence at our side. They have proven themselves to be hunters among prey in battles past, and so long as they remain… then they will stand among kin.”
She laughs outright now, her voice echoing hauntingly through the compound. “So despair, disparate challengers from your wayward paths, who have journeyed far, but alone. You walk brazenly into the lair of the Pack. Some of you have already suffered and lost at our hands… and that was when you stood against one of us alone. Now that my most loyal and my most virulent will stand at my side…”
She stands as the camera closes on her. “No force on this earth can prevent your condemnation to the Abyss.”
Rowan sat in a cool, dark room in the main compound of Centralia. This was not the same room in which she usually gathered – this was smaller, more private, and more prone to enjoying the luxuries and comforts that many wrestlers may have gotten used to over the years. There were six in the room, including herself. Dean Harper, her most loyal, sat directly across from her, waiting for her to speak. Maxine Valentine, her first true convert, sat at Dean’s side, a smile playing at her face as she enjoyed the comfort of closeness with the smaller man. Caleb Lockwood sat a little away from the rest, already enjoying some of the meal that had been set out for everyone. It took him time to come to trust everyone there, but he was coming closer every meal, even if only by centimeters. Brooklyn sat on the other side of Dean, seeming to have grown accustomed to the Pack faster than even Rowan had anticipated. Among the darker visages of those around her, Brooklyn stuck out like a sort thumb, the obvious outsider… but her clear comfort among those around her shone like a beacon of just what the Pack truly represented, the truth behind the touted philosophy.
The sixth waited behind Rowan, out of sight and silent in the shadows. He was the newest among them, but the quickest to align. The circumstances of his becoming facilitated that. Soon, she hoped, he would sit among them as equals. For now he was not ready, and until he was he would stay apart… but already he had begun to see the compound at home, or at least so it seemed.
Rowan took a deep breath after taking in the presence of each of her packmates, focusing on them with more than just sight for a few long moments, before she finally spoke.
“Thank you for coming,” she began simply. “I know that I have been… absent, of late. More withdrawn than usual. That you have bonded in my erstwhile absence is heartening to see.”
There was an uncertainty in her tone. An almost warmth. Things that were never seen outside this room. This is where she would withdraw, either alone or with her most trusted. This is where she was vulnerable. This is where she let herself feel.
“I am… grateful,” she continued slowly, carefully. “Grateful that all of you have chosen to come, to remain, to stay. Each and every one of you have felt the sting of what it is to be an outcast. Each and every one of you has sought home, a home that some never knew before coming here. From those who have been at my side for longer than most know…” she shared a brief moment of eye contact with Dean, “… to those who none – even I – would have predicted would come to be so valued a part of this pack.” She locked eyes with Brooklyn for a brief moment, and girl smiled at her without even a flinch. She was not afraid of Rowan anymore. She knew that as long as this was her home, Rowan would be her protector.
“Things are changing,” Rowan continued, shifting her focus away from Brooklyn to address the room as a whole. “Events have been put into motion that cannot, and should not, be stopped. All of us will be tested – us and many others beyond. Some may fail, while others will succeed. I cannot see what it will lead to.”
Her eyes pulsed a warm golden glow. “But I believe that you will, all of you, endure and survive it. Together we have built a family. Strong. Loyal. Enduring. I know that none of you will abandon me, as I hope that you all know I will never abandon you.”
She looks at all but the figure behind her, one at a time, breathing steadily. “I am grateful to you all for standing with me. While I know that I am strong enough that it is not impossible that I could face what comes alone… I know well that the wolf is stronger with those she trusts. With her pack. With her family.”
The light in her eyes fades. “You have all trusted me with your darkest truths. You have opened yourselves to me. Allowed yourselves to be vulnerable before me. I did not betray you then – faith and trust rewarded. It is time for me to repay you.”
With slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her arms to the back of her head… and carefully removed her mask. The Pack sat in silence as they watched the mask fall away, showing the true Rowan beneath.
None of them flinched.
Rowan smiled, a smile that for the first time in memory was seen by more than just a shift in the eyes. “I trust you all. No matter what comes, or what we are called upon to stand against… I will always stand with you. For every cruelty I inflict upon the outside world, I shall double in my protection of you all. I will never abandon you by choice, and if I am ever forced away…”
She closes her eyes. “I know that you will come for me, and punish those who dared separate us.”
“Vivienne Rogers. A fresh young face on a bright young mind. I have not yet properly welcomed you to the Imperial Wrestling Federation. On Sunday I will be able to properly rectify that. This is not the first time you have been called upon to stand against my Pack… but it is the first time that you will have stood face to face with me. As many of the women in this division will tell you… it is an experience that I strive to leave its marks upon your memory, your spirit, and your flesh.”
Her head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing hungrily as she stalks the camera. After a few moments she shifts her gaze from the camera to a Thrall wearing a mask of Vivienne’s face, eyes crossed out with blood, the sockets seeming scorched and hollow.
“I’ve known countless creatures like you, Vivienne. Girls who come to this business with hearts full of hope and minds full of charitable intent. Women who strive to do good, to be perfect little dolls as flawless as porcelain. The only difference between you and them is that, despite your mewling claims to the contrary, they had to work harder to get as far in their lives as you have. They haven’t been able to rely on their father’s reputation to convince their trainers that they belong here.”
She growls slightly under her mask, tracing her fingers around the Vivienne-Thrall’s throat. “I can hear your retort on the wind. Your whining cries that you’ve clearly never relied on your father’s name, that you would never rely on a thing so corrupt as nepotism. If you believe that, then you are a fool – whether you let yourself acknowledge it our not, at some point down the line you’ve had an advantage of your name that led some other, more talented, more interesting, more unique talent at the wayside. Every one of us, no matter how noble in word, has destroyed the hopes and dreams of another in the long ascent to reach these heights. Someone is jobless because of you. Someone had to abandon their dreams and settle for mediocrity because of you. Someone out there gave up everything they had – family, friends, and funds – for a chance to make it in this business… and you crushed it. It’s true for everyone.”
She lets out a sharp, cruel snort. “At least I am willing to acknowledge their loss. Acknowledge that I am a monster for what I did to them. I don’t pretend to be a good little princess who wouldn’t hurt a fly while standing on a podium built on crushed dreams and shattered hope… and at least I never had the advantage of a famous name to drag one of those more talented names into ignominy.”
She turns her attention back to the camera and leans in close. “I’m going to make you look. Make you stare into your deepest sins, away from all those who have said that they loved and would protect you. Though you will be surrounded by the hungry and the vengeful amid their plots to take prizes for their own, you will have never in your life been more alone than you will be on Sunday Night when the two of us meet. Together we’ll show the world who you really are… and your father will be so ashamed when he sees that ugly truth. And Ciara?”
Her eyes flash with sadistic pleasure.
"... You'll find out soon that your precious Ciara may have other things on her mind when the time comes."
She chuckles as she turns to a second Thrall, this one in a mask of Shea O’Hara, eyes similarly mutilated.
“Which brings me to my… oldest of enemies.”
Rowan’s eyes flash a dangerous gold as she circles the ersatz Shea, rage clear in her gaze as she gently traces the Thrall’s cheek with a gloved hand… fingers shaking almost imperceptibly with barely-contained fury.
“You knew I couldn’t leave you alone forever… but you seemed so intent on holding on to that Shieldmaiden title for as long as you possibly could. I can be a patient huntress, Shea. I can wait for a long time for my prey to come into my lair… but my patience is not infinite, and your reign was beginning to test it.”
Her voice grows thick with rage as she continues to speak, volume intensifying. “I waited, O’Hara. I waited weeks and weeks for you to emerge from your safety net so that we could resume our dance, but week after week you refused to yield. I carved my way through much less worthy creatures waiting for you to emerge from your little fortress, but you continued to deny me through it all. Finally it became clear to me that I could not afford to simply wait for the time to come where someone would strip you of that belt naturally… that if I wanted it done right, then I would have to take steps myself to move things along.”
“I’ve known since I first earned this title that you’d come for me as soon as your Shieldmaiden reign was over, Shea O’Hara. You and I are destined for so much more than the little dance we shared over the Shieldmaiden a few months ago. You and I have shared too much for such an end. No. Through all the rivalries, every battle, every feud… for every Charity Crowne or Pandora Freeman…
You are the one who defines me.”
She calms, eyes flashing again as she controls her breathing, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
“When you called my name two weeks ago… did you know that you were merely starting the fire? Setting the first spark in a battle that will burn to the very heart of the Diamonds Division? The entire IWF? The flame that let in that ring as I dragged you through the inferno is merely the beginning of a wildfire... and many more will be caught in its path before the storm quenches the heat. Did you know that by doing so you have begun us on a path that will lead to only the suffering of innocents?”
It is clear that she is grinning savagely under her face mask. “I did, Shea. And even if you saw the same thing I did… I know that you are too hell-bent on my destruction that it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
She turns back to the camera, the masked Thralls standing in front of her, flanking her. “The two of you share in common the craving for the world to see you as heroes. Heroes walking into the dragon’s lair, striking the two women – both members of the most dominant force of Oblivion in the IWF today – to try to show the world that they’re good. That they’re saviors. That when children look to the sky and call for a savior, that there are those who might just answer.”
In one swift motion she takes both of the thralls to the ground with a double chokeslam, pinning them both to the concrete floor as the camera shifts angles to follow. The hollowed and disfigured masks of Vivienne and Shea stare brokenly at the camera as Rowan keeps speaking.
“You deceive yourselves and others. You are not heroes. You will not end this. Survival of the Fittest is only the beginning of something much more dangerous on its way to this fetid and strangled world.”
The thralls bust into flame as she lies between the two of them, still pinning their struggling bodies to the floor as they scream in fear in pain, the flames licking their way up Rowan’s arms.
“And by the end of it all… you… and every girl like you… every would-be hero… will be Extinct.”
The camera cuts to black, audio lingering for a few seconds on the sounds of the Thrall’s screaming.
Well howdy there pardner.