"My turn."

[Sabin / Madjinn]

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Osaka, Japan

As the scene fades into place, you are greeted with a high end room. Rather than the typical wall that alludes to privacy, there are tinted windows to allow the guests a panoramic view of the city, as well as a corner balcony…while the lights outside are bright, the interior of the room remains relatively dark; there are few overhead lights turned on over the king sized bed that becomes our focus after the camera takes a gander around the entire room.

Lying in the center of the bed, seemingly alone, is none other than The Mad Prince himself – Madjinn…Sabin…he pays no mind to the approaching camera as soft moans escape him, becoming a little more audible as the camera ventures closer and closer. Sabin’s eyes are closed, and his hands folded behind the back of his head as he sits propped up against the bedrest; his hair with a faint curl dangling down past his shoulders, and his bare chest adorning a lot of the new scars that he’s sporting from the Joker in the Pack match. The camera gets closer, and you notice that there is movement underneath the sheets. Your intuition doesn’t deceive you! Two arms shoot out from under the sheets, as the person underneath them digs her nails into Sabin’s chest leaving visible scratches…as the hands trace down his chest, the camera intends to follow until the cameraman hears a very aggressive manner of fingers snapping, garnering the attention of the audience.

The camera moves back up to show Madjinn’s eyes open, the yellow eyes illuminated like a cat in the dark – he grits his teeth, wincing ever so slightly, before finally breaking the silence, “Let’s keep the focus up here.” he says with a slight chuckle.

The movement underneath the sheets slows down a little, as Madjinn takes a few sharp breaths in order to regain his composure. The camera positions itself in front of Madjinn to focus less on the moving sheets, and more on The Artist Formerly Known As Wraith, as he brings one arm down just out of view of the camera.

With a smirk on his face, and cocking his head slightly to the side, his gaze remains locked on the audience– the camera– and he traces his tongue across his lips before finally resuming, “Out of the frying pan, and into the fire–” Madjinn says sharply; he inhales heavily and continues, “My short career has been riddled with these–” he chatters his teeth a little, fumbling a little bit over his speech to consider the best word, “These situations… Being put into matches that you pour your heart into; matches that you pour your blood into, that you pour your sweat into, and that you pour your tears into, and do you know what happens? I’ve been in these situations, these matches, that meant everything…” he winces again, sucking in air through his teeth, and a low moan escapes.

“Much like the Roulette last year…much like Heir to the Throne every year, where I would pour everything I had in me to just call myself The Heir – I would pour everything I had in me to challenge for the IWF Men’s World Championship at Night of the Immortals. I poured everything to try and earn that briefcase that would guarantee me a chance to reclaim my throne! To reclaim my championship!” His breathing becomes a bit heavier for a moment, but he soon fixes himself.

“But–” he sucks in air through his teeth again, letting out a satisfied sigh while getting more comfortable against the bedrest, “–I just couldn’t get the job done.” He says with a click of his tongue.

“Y’see, I’m not the type of person that’s going to sit around and bitch and–” another low moan escapes, “–moan ‘cause I didn’t get my way… I’m not the type of person who has ever stayed down after a bitter taste of defeat. I’m the person that has always gotten back up, and has always been ready for the next fight! That Joker in the Pack,” he says with a chuckle under his breath, “that took quite a bit out of all of us, and– it seems that we all had to turn right around and go right back to work, and…no one is better at that than me. When I lost a match, I didn’t sit and cry about it! I go back to work. I’m not like the likes of everybody who has come and gone, the people who flew so high only to flounder in the ocean… I’m not the type of person who’s going to disappear until the next big match comes up, and have some grand return ‘cause it’s only after they’ve come back for the umpteenth time that they have the spotlight on them for five minutes until the realization sets in that they are merely mediocre.” Madjinn bites down on his bottom lip, and snickers while taking a moment to allow those words to do their damage.

“But me– I… I am here to stay! For I am not mediocre. Because this business is what I live for. This business is what I do! And I’m looking at you– Allen–” he snorts out and cocks his head back to the side, “I’m also looking at everybody else who has crawled their way out of obscurity the moment that they saw a chance at the limelight! I’m talking about the people who saw the Roulette, and like a moth to the flame, came crawling from every corner of the globe just to put themselves back on the map. I can be beaten at the Roulette, and I’m still here. I can be beaten at Joker in the Pack, and I’m still here. I can be beaten in Heir to the Throne, and I’m still here! You had your redemption arc, Allen. You are the Joker in the Pack.”

Madjinn swiftly reaches his hand forward, grabbing the camera by the lens and pulls it in before snarling out the next two words, “My turn.”

Taking in another sharp breath, Madjinn closes his eyes for a brief moment…while all of the pleasure continues coursing throughout his body, there is a momentary disdain on his face from the failures that he has endured. None stung quite as much as Heir to the Throne which stood as the bane of his existence. Ever since Madjinn had made his debut just over three years ago, he was entered into Heir to the Throne, and every single year, he would amass the most points in the system…only to end up losing, first, in the semi-finals, and then twice in the finals. But with a coy smile curling back on his face, he opens his eyes again and peers forward, and while there was no denying his history of failures, there was still hope in the diabolical eyes.

“My turn.” He states boldly, pressing his own thumb against his chest. Chattering his teeth, he fixes his posture before resuming his speech, “Y’see, I see everybody that’s coming out of their retirements…crawling out of the woodwork…all because they think that they are going to have some triumphant return. I mean, look at Warren. Hasn’t done anything for years! And now he’s the champion! Everybody wants that ‘feel good’ story, don’t they? Well, I told you all a while ago: I’m done being held back. I’m done holding my tongue. I’m done letting people say what they want about me and not receiving repercussions for it. This is mine.”

He bares his teeth as if they were fangs, and glances down for a moment before raising his eyes in ecstasy. After a low, satisfied sigh, he draws in a deep breath, “Now, now, don’t think I’ve forgotten the terms this year… It’s something new, something different, something innovative! I team with–” suddenly, crawling out from under the covers with her own face flushed as she licks her lips with a smirk on her face, “My extraordinary girlfriend… Kitten,” Madjinn says in a mocking tone. “To face off–” he suddenly winces pretty hard, and Brandy pulls her hand out from under the blanket, pointing at Madjinn.

“Call me kitten again and I’m gonna break it.” She says with a smile of her own.

Still grimacing, Madjinn rebounds, “–to face off against Allen and Natasha…now I’ve been in enough battles with Allen to know him like the back of my hand, but then we get this little wildcard in Natasha, and I look at you… don’t think I don’t pay attention, honey, what you did against The Murder? Oh, that was beautiful! But– you sing like everybody else… There is nothing about you that tells me I should pay attention to you. What my thoughts are is that you are riding on Charlie’s coattails, and people are already seeing you for what you are: a lackey. Someone who is going to be forgotten in a couple of months while her friends around her shine and prosper! You are just the little bird in the flock that will never learn how to fly on your own. All you are going to be to Allen this week is: DEAD. WEIGHT. And I can’t wait to watch The Black Widow tear you apart.” Madjinn says with a sickening smile.

The Black Widow sits up, holding the sheet to herself as she takes front and center.

(To be continued by The Black Widow’s RP.)