Post by thepest on Aug 19, 2024 4:28:15 GMT
The shadow of a flickering flame flashes across a cracked wall. Shrouded in darkness, our scene is barely illuminated by the soft quivering of candlelights affixed to a swaying chandelier. All that can be seen is dilapidation and decay: cracked walls, a leaky ceiling, and pools of crimson ichor collecting on the floor. As the candlelights sway atop the chandelier, every nature of pest can be seen making its home in a nook or cranny of the room. Termites pour out from the cracks in the walls, rats scurry out from beneath the floorboards, and a bat even flies out from the ceiling! You can almost taste the rotted stench of this pestilence through the screen! The stench of his pestilence.
That’s when a door creaks open on the far side of the room and he walks in. Covered in a web of darkness, little can be seen of him as he makes his grand entrance: but the rest of the pests have seen enough. As soon as he steps into the scene the rats, bats, and bugs all go scurrying for the exits.
The King of Pests has come back to his domain.
“It is my pleasure, truely, to introduce myself to you.”
The masked man walks towards the camera while adjusting his grimey gloves.
“Some men have called me ‘vermin’. Others have called me ‘rat bastard’. A few even stooped so low as to refer to me as ‘that human cockroach’.”
The man pauses thoughtfully once he finally reaches the space directly in front of the camera and beneath the chandelier. Dressed in a dusty suit with a stained tie, you could almost be convinced that he was a down-on-his-luck car salesman: if it weren’t for his macabre mask.
“But come this Tuesday, August 20th Oryon Highwind will know me by one name and one name only: The Pest. The Pest who came up from the cracks in this industry and stole his dreams. The Pest who came slithering out from his burrow, only to feast on Oryon’s flailing career!
Foul mouths, weak wills, and prideful arrogance: Oryon Highwind is no different from the other mutts polluting the Imperial Wrestling Federation. Only concerned with the pinnacle of his own rise, completely enthralled by the siren songs of fame and vanity: Oryon Highwind is just like the rest of them- and he will be the first to fall. The first victim of The Pest’s feast!
Oryon thinks he is ‘Out of This World’? He’s just out of his mind if he thinks he is going to survive a night with me in The Coliseum! I have scorched entire rosters in federations far and wide, I have destroyed wrestling empires, I have brought royal families down to their knees: but you don’t care about any of that, do you?
You only care about what you can see. You only care about what folks have done for you lately. You only care about Imperial- and how could I blame any of you for that? As a matter of fact, I find myself in the same boat as you. The Pest doesn’t care about the past, The Pest doesn’t even care about the future! All The Pest ever cares about is taking a bite out of the present being gift-wrapped for me in that ring come Tuesday night.
That’s one of the reasons why I’ve donned this beautiful mask: because if you saw my face, then I wouldn’t get to see your face after I shock the entire IWF, one huge victory after the other!
Full truth be told, I don’t have any particular disdain for this Oryon fellow. I mean, how could I? He would need to have a personality in order for me to dislike it. The only thing anyone knows about Oryon is that he is small and he is fast- which doesn’t bode well for his relationship with Samara, does it?
And Oryon, sonny boy- a word to the wise, if you will- try to keep Samara away from the Coliseum. It sure would be a shame for something to happen to her on Tuesday night, if you know what I mean? She sure is a beautiful specimen, a gorgeous little thing…
A disgustingly gorgeous thing.
I may be a pest, but I sense that Samara is something far, far worse. A lecherous succubus of sorts, a dazzling jezebel perhaps- none the less, that Samara has nothing that I could want. But a weak-minded man like Oryon? It is all too easy to distract him with the carnal pleasures of flesh, his resolve will never be steeled. He is merely a boy playing the part of a man in this dangerous, dangerous world. If Oryon can’t even get a handle on dangerous women like Samara, how will he ever handle a dangerous man like me?”
The Pest tilts his head to the side slowly, letting his words linger in the air before raising a gloved fist. Unbeknownst to the camera, he cracks a smile beneath his mask as he waves goodbye to the screen.
“See You Next Tuesday, Oryon!”
That’s when a door creaks open on the far side of the room and he walks in. Covered in a web of darkness, little can be seen of him as he makes his grand entrance: but the rest of the pests have seen enough. As soon as he steps into the scene the rats, bats, and bugs all go scurrying for the exits.
The King of Pests has come back to his domain.
“It is my pleasure, truely, to introduce myself to you.”
The masked man walks towards the camera while adjusting his grimey gloves.
“Some men have called me ‘vermin’. Others have called me ‘rat bastard’. A few even stooped so low as to refer to me as ‘that human cockroach’.”
The man pauses thoughtfully once he finally reaches the space directly in front of the camera and beneath the chandelier. Dressed in a dusty suit with a stained tie, you could almost be convinced that he was a down-on-his-luck car salesman: if it weren’t for his macabre mask.
“But come this Tuesday, August 20th Oryon Highwind will know me by one name and one name only: The Pest. The Pest who came up from the cracks in this industry and stole his dreams. The Pest who came slithering out from his burrow, only to feast on Oryon’s flailing career!
Foul mouths, weak wills, and prideful arrogance: Oryon Highwind is no different from the other mutts polluting the Imperial Wrestling Federation. Only concerned with the pinnacle of his own rise, completely enthralled by the siren songs of fame and vanity: Oryon Highwind is just like the rest of them- and he will be the first to fall. The first victim of The Pest’s feast!
Oryon thinks he is ‘Out of This World’? He’s just out of his mind if he thinks he is going to survive a night with me in The Coliseum! I have scorched entire rosters in federations far and wide, I have destroyed wrestling empires, I have brought royal families down to their knees: but you don’t care about any of that, do you?
You only care about what you can see. You only care about what folks have done for you lately. You only care about Imperial- and how could I blame any of you for that? As a matter of fact, I find myself in the same boat as you. The Pest doesn’t care about the past, The Pest doesn’t even care about the future! All The Pest ever cares about is taking a bite out of the present being gift-wrapped for me in that ring come Tuesday night.
That’s one of the reasons why I’ve donned this beautiful mask: because if you saw my face, then I wouldn’t get to see your face after I shock the entire IWF, one huge victory after the other!
Full truth be told, I don’t have any particular disdain for this Oryon fellow. I mean, how could I? He would need to have a personality in order for me to dislike it. The only thing anyone knows about Oryon is that he is small and he is fast- which doesn’t bode well for his relationship with Samara, does it?
And Oryon, sonny boy- a word to the wise, if you will- try to keep Samara away from the Coliseum. It sure would be a shame for something to happen to her on Tuesday night, if you know what I mean? She sure is a beautiful specimen, a gorgeous little thing…
A disgustingly gorgeous thing.
I may be a pest, but I sense that Samara is something far, far worse. A lecherous succubus of sorts, a dazzling jezebel perhaps- none the less, that Samara has nothing that I could want. But a weak-minded man like Oryon? It is all too easy to distract him with the carnal pleasures of flesh, his resolve will never be steeled. He is merely a boy playing the part of a man in this dangerous, dangerous world. If Oryon can’t even get a handle on dangerous women like Samara, how will he ever handle a dangerous man like me?”
The Pest tilts his head to the side slowly, letting his words linger in the air before raising a gloved fist. Unbeknownst to the camera, he cracks a smile beneath his mask as he waves goodbye to the screen.
“See You Next Tuesday, Oryon!”
Well howdy there pardner.