Post by Dean Harper on Mar 8, 2018 22:12:58 GMT
The camera turns on again to Dean sitting in the middle of the dark room surrounded by candles.
“The Roulette gets closer. Some are jumping at the chance to get to the last five spots. Caleb and Warren I offer my hope that the two of you make it. For myself? I like a challenge. I don’t really care where I end up in the number. I like tearing through as many of you as possible.”
Dean winks.
“Let’s talk about the old prey in the Roulette this time. Those who have faced me more than once.”
Dean claps his hands together.
“With the Roulette coming closer some old faces have stepped out of the shadows to come and try to make a run for the gold. Coincidentally enough just in time for the roulette.”
Dean rolls eyes.
“Ryan Shane. It’s the time of year to return. The tag tournament and the Roulette. Hoping to grab onto that gold and make yourself relevant again, right? You were talking that big game when you tried to make Survival of the Fittest your big return. You tried to make Heir to the Throne your moment but you choked once you got to the big title match, didn’t you?”
Dean grins.
“We all know the moment you fail to capitalize on that win you’ll fade back into obscurity. Just like Detroit. We all know that you aren’t here for the long term. It’s just to get a few cheers before walking off. That’s what you do. You have the reputation for it at this point. You are blip and a part timer. One barely has to be concerned with you.”
Dean points towards the camera.
“Maybe that’s the hope?”
Dean waits a moment.
“Slink in and hope that since everyone else will be so focused on other more worthy prey you can get the underdog victory you’ll scream you deserve? Maybe I’m giving you too much credit to be that conveying but I like to assume the worst in people.”
Dean shrugs.
“In this kind of match where every man is in this to achieve getting a shot at God for the gold? You can’t expect anyone to really allow you to win. Hell, people would rather see the PR disaster that is James Gilmore win over a flighty fuck. At least he’s consistent in his nonsensical ramblings. Want to know what you are Ryan? You’re what my Gran would have referred to as a High Holy Day Catholic. You show up for the big events but can’t be bothered with the rest of the year.”
Dean stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fog off the mirror. He stared at the mirror but there was no reflection. Nothing in the mirror but the black.
“What are you doing?” He asked out loud.
Don’t you wonder why you were meant for me, dean? I have always had what you’ve needed. Haven’t I guided you well?
In the mirror he saw an image. A hospital room where a women he had only seen in photographs was moving back from a nurse who stood by her bed.
“Don’t you want to hold him?”
“No! Get it away from me! It’s the devil’s spawn!” she shook her head vigorously. “It’ll corrupt you!”
You were always born for great things, Dean.
The image changed to Gran standing over him.
“You thrice damned piece of garbage. Can’t you do a single thing right?” Gran backhanded him into the wall. “What did I do to get such an evil grandson? No other six year old boy is as foul as you.”
Everyone has always seen that in you.
The scene changed to Dean behind the camera as Devlin was delivering a promo with a small smile.
They could smell it on you, Dean.
The image of Rowan grabbing him by the back of the head and throwing him into the trunk of the car before slamming it shut.
What you were meant for. What we would do together.
The image that made Dean’s body tense. The cell, the black room Rowan had kept him in during his training. The feel of the straps from the chair, the taste of his own blood in his mouth.
“Dean Harper.” Her voice rung in the dark. “What are you thinking today?”
We are meant for the top.
Images swirled, playing his training to prepare for becoming Rowan’s arm in the men’s division.
It is my birthright.
Dean holding the Man of Steel belt as Dev laid on the mat.
It is your birthright.
Dean licking Mason St Croix’s blood off his lip as he held the belt high.
Our right. You and I. We can reach the top of this company. We will reach the top of this company.
Dean looking down at Xavier Cross’ body and nudging it with his foot, smirking.
They underestimate us. They see us as the honeypot of this family. Vicious but a recruitment poster with a warm smile and a wicked tongue. We will prove them wrong.
Dean wheeling Maxine into the compound. Talking with Caleb in the alley. Dean talking to Warren. Dean and Max picking up Brooklyn.
We can be limitless. This is the chance to be the hunter we were always meant to be.
Dean saw the throne Rowan used to sit on, empty full of dust.
Rowan wanted a male figure to be her right hand and dominate the men’s division. The Man of Steel belt is a stepping stone for the big picture, Dean. It served its purpose. We no longer need it.
The mirror was back to normal, reflecting his face.
“I’m not betraying them.”
Wouldn’t ask you to do that, Dean.
“What do you want, Leviathan?”
“Nighthawk, sweetheart, how are you doing? Feeling all inspired after making Ulf say I quit I’ll bet. Giving speeches about how no matter happens you’re always here, always watching. Always ready to fight the good fight, huh?”
Dean leans forward, blinking once showing glowing eyes.
“Each day the IWF gets darker and darker, sweetheart. More and more among the number of the good guys are walking or disappearing.”
Dean points to a candle.
“Does sleep help you find courage to wake up the next day to see if one more of your student or friends turns a little more dark?”
Dean uses his finger to put out a candle.
“I’m not Spike or God though. I like there being good people who make the stand. I enjoy watching you fight so hard against the tide. There is nothing quite like watching a person who’s fought so hard from giving into the dark finally take that shaky step forward. Fuck, it’s almost better than sex. That dark step Astrid took? Hot, right?”
Dean licks his teeth.
“You know it too, right? How easy it would be to just give in to the dark impulses. Get just a little careless. End one of your problems once and for all. Take the piece off the board for good—wouldn’t be the first time-- But that’s the easy way out. You like the good fight. The challenge.”
Dean licks his burnt finger.
“That’s why you’re here right? You’re here to prove you matter. That your hard work and constantly fighting to keep things from going dark side matter. You could retire, run your school full time and install those samurai values in the next great generation of talent. But you like being on the front line. You like standing in front of the coming storm and telling it you won’t move. That’s why you’re here. To prove you can keep getting up after getting hit down. That despite your wins or loses that you matter. But you aren’t going to make it out of the roulette on top. It’s not going to happen. Either by my hand or someone else’s. You won’t make it. You know that deep down.”
Dean shakes his head as the candle re-lights.
“Devlin, bae. I have missed you. I mean really missed you. We’re going to be Best Friends in the tag tournament.”
Dean blinks away the shine.
“But in the roulette? You babe, you know I’m not going to let things go. I like playing with you, but I want that shot. I want it for myself or The Pack. You haven’t joined that so I have to keep you from that. No hard feelings, love, but you know what an obstacle I can be for you.”
“The Roulette gets closer. Some are jumping at the chance to get to the last five spots. Caleb and Warren I offer my hope that the two of you make it. For myself? I like a challenge. I don’t really care where I end up in the number. I like tearing through as many of you as possible.”
Dean winks.
“Let’s talk about the old prey in the Roulette this time. Those who have faced me more than once.”
Dean claps his hands together.
“With the Roulette coming closer some old faces have stepped out of the shadows to come and try to make a run for the gold. Coincidentally enough just in time for the roulette.”
Dean rolls eyes.
“Ryan Shane. It’s the time of year to return. The tag tournament and the Roulette. Hoping to grab onto that gold and make yourself relevant again, right? You were talking that big game when you tried to make Survival of the Fittest your big return. You tried to make Heir to the Throne your moment but you choked once you got to the big title match, didn’t you?”
Dean grins.
“We all know the moment you fail to capitalize on that win you’ll fade back into obscurity. Just like Detroit. We all know that you aren’t here for the long term. It’s just to get a few cheers before walking off. That’s what you do. You have the reputation for it at this point. You are blip and a part timer. One barely has to be concerned with you.”
Dean points towards the camera.
“Maybe that’s the hope?”
Dean waits a moment.
“Slink in and hope that since everyone else will be so focused on other more worthy prey you can get the underdog victory you’ll scream you deserve? Maybe I’m giving you too much credit to be that conveying but I like to assume the worst in people.”
Dean shrugs.
“In this kind of match where every man is in this to achieve getting a shot at God for the gold? You can’t expect anyone to really allow you to win. Hell, people would rather see the PR disaster that is James Gilmore win over a flighty fuck. At least he’s consistent in his nonsensical ramblings. Want to know what you are Ryan? You’re what my Gran would have referred to as a High Holy Day Catholic. You show up for the big events but can’t be bothered with the rest of the year.”
Dean stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fog off the mirror. He stared at the mirror but there was no reflection. Nothing in the mirror but the black.
“What are you doing?” He asked out loud.
Don’t you wonder why you were meant for me, dean? I have always had what you’ve needed. Haven’t I guided you well?
In the mirror he saw an image. A hospital room where a women he had only seen in photographs was moving back from a nurse who stood by her bed.
“Don’t you want to hold him?”
“No! Get it away from me! It’s the devil’s spawn!” she shook her head vigorously. “It’ll corrupt you!”
You were always born for great things, Dean.
The image changed to Gran standing over him.
“You thrice damned piece of garbage. Can’t you do a single thing right?” Gran backhanded him into the wall. “What did I do to get such an evil grandson? No other six year old boy is as foul as you.”
Everyone has always seen that in you.
The scene changed to Dean behind the camera as Devlin was delivering a promo with a small smile.
They could smell it on you, Dean.
The image of Rowan grabbing him by the back of the head and throwing him into the trunk of the car before slamming it shut.
What you were meant for. What we would do together.
The image that made Dean’s body tense. The cell, the black room Rowan had kept him in during his training. The feel of the straps from the chair, the taste of his own blood in his mouth.
“Dean Harper.” Her voice rung in the dark. “What are you thinking today?”
We are meant for the top.
Images swirled, playing his training to prepare for becoming Rowan’s arm in the men’s division.
It is my birthright.
Dean holding the Man of Steel belt as Dev laid on the mat.
It is your birthright.
Dean licking Mason St Croix’s blood off his lip as he held the belt high.
Our right. You and I. We can reach the top of this company. We will reach the top of this company.
Dean looking down at Xavier Cross’ body and nudging it with his foot, smirking.
They underestimate us. They see us as the honeypot of this family. Vicious but a recruitment poster with a warm smile and a wicked tongue. We will prove them wrong.
Dean wheeling Maxine into the compound. Talking with Caleb in the alley. Dean talking to Warren. Dean and Max picking up Brooklyn.
We can be limitless. This is the chance to be the hunter we were always meant to be.
Dean saw the throne Rowan used to sit on, empty full of dust.
Rowan wanted a male figure to be her right hand and dominate the men’s division. The Man of Steel belt is a stepping stone for the big picture, Dean. It served its purpose. We no longer need it.
The mirror was back to normal, reflecting his face.
“I’m not betraying them.”
Wouldn’t ask you to do that, Dean.
“What do you want, Leviathan?”
“Nighthawk, sweetheart, how are you doing? Feeling all inspired after making Ulf say I quit I’ll bet. Giving speeches about how no matter happens you’re always here, always watching. Always ready to fight the good fight, huh?”
Dean leans forward, blinking once showing glowing eyes.
“Each day the IWF gets darker and darker, sweetheart. More and more among the number of the good guys are walking or disappearing.”
Dean points to a candle.
“Does sleep help you find courage to wake up the next day to see if one more of your student or friends turns a little more dark?”
Dean uses his finger to put out a candle.
“I’m not Spike or God though. I like there being good people who make the stand. I enjoy watching you fight so hard against the tide. There is nothing quite like watching a person who’s fought so hard from giving into the dark finally take that shaky step forward. Fuck, it’s almost better than sex. That dark step Astrid took? Hot, right?”
Dean licks his teeth.
“You know it too, right? How easy it would be to just give in to the dark impulses. Get just a little careless. End one of your problems once and for all. Take the piece off the board for good—wouldn’t be the first time-- But that’s the easy way out. You like the good fight. The challenge.”
Dean licks his burnt finger.
“That’s why you’re here right? You’re here to prove you matter. That your hard work and constantly fighting to keep things from going dark side matter. You could retire, run your school full time and install those samurai values in the next great generation of talent. But you like being on the front line. You like standing in front of the coming storm and telling it you won’t move. That’s why you’re here. To prove you can keep getting up after getting hit down. That despite your wins or loses that you matter. But you aren’t going to make it out of the roulette on top. It’s not going to happen. Either by my hand or someone else’s. You won’t make it. You know that deep down.”
Dean shakes his head as the candle re-lights.
“Devlin, bae. I have missed you. I mean really missed you. We’re going to be Best Friends in the tag tournament.”
Dean blinks away the shine.
“But in the roulette? You babe, you know I’m not going to let things go. I like playing with you, but I want that shot. I want it for myself or The Pack. You haven’t joined that so I have to keep you from that. No hard feelings, love, but you know what an obstacle I can be for you.”
Well howdy there pardner.