Post by Cyrus Daniels on Jun 10, 2017 17:33:29 GMT
We open on a cigarette hanging from a mouth nestled in light brown stubble growing around a square granite jaw.
A black fingerless gloved hand brings the flame from a silver lighter up to kiss the end of the cigarette. With its job done quickly, efficiently, the flame is quickly extinguished and the lighter pocketed. Now we see more of the picture as the monstrous bare chested physical form of Cyrus Daniels is revealed.
Cyrus takes a moment to enjoy the nicotine high before plucking the cigarette from his mouth and speaking to an IWF audience for the first time in over a year.
44,150,400 seconds.
735,840 minutes.
12,264 hours.
511 days.
73 weeks.
By the time Sacrifice rolls around, almost seventeen months will have passed. Almost seventeen months, since you, Andy, were last my problem.
It's been a long time since that night, Andy. It's been a hell of a long time between that Open Fight Night and this one. A hell of a lot of things have changed in that time, not least your position in the Imperial Wrestling Federation, but ya know what they say, don't ya, Andy?
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Now I'm sure I don't need to remind ya, exactly what a bloke like me is capable of. A bloke who doesn't believe in Gods, a bloke who doesn't bow to Kings, and a bloke who doesn't bend to the iron will of heroes.
As their Imperial Champion, you are now all three.
You are their God, their King, their Hero.
To the people, you are their greatest hope, their absolute salvation, and their finest example.
To me, you're just a target - but not in the way you've trained your whole adult life to deal with. To me, you're not a target because of that which makes your duffel bag fourteen pounds heavier than it used to be two weeks ago, no - to me, you're a target because of the ideal you now represent.
An ideal that has never existed in my world - the real world.
Millions of people around the world now turn on their telly and see you as their beacon. They turn to their kids before they tuck them into bed every night, kiss them on the forehead and whisper "See, if you are good and you work really hard in life, it will all work out for the best eventually. And when the poor little tyke who knows no better asks "Like Andy?" They smile, and they nod and they whisper "Yes, just like Andy."
And so the lies continue, until one day that poor kid wakes up, looks in the mirror as a fully grown man, and realises just how far from the truth of this life they really are and always were.
Life, real life, is not that simple or fair or just.
In my world, the real world, any sense of justice is always corrupt.
In your world, every dog has its day. In my world, the real world, the dogs eat each other.
Sometimes, it just ain't enough to keep your head down and wait your turn, no, life, real life, just doesn't work that way.
Real life bends ya over an' sticks it straight up your arse, and before ya figure out where it all went wrong, ya find yourself sharin' a cell with a bloke who wants to do the same, until you break his jaw and ya both reach an understanding that you've been fucked over long enough already.
In my world, the real world, there's very few problems a clenched fist can't solve, the trick is to make sure you're always on the right side of one, and I think ya already know which side you're gonna be on this Monday, when I step back into your world and introduce ya to mine.
First I will introduce ya to the cold, hard steel and then I will introduce your fans ta the cold, hard truth of your existence as the most false of all of their silly little hopes, wishes and dreams...
And perhaps then you will understand that I'm not doing this for Bobby V...
Cyrus shakes his head slowly.
I'm doing this because I enjoy it.
Bobby is just paying me for the pleasure, because he knows I never work for free, even if the chance to destroy a real live hero is absolutely priceless...
Cyrus chuckles, before he grabs the camera and it cuts to static.
A black fingerless gloved hand brings the flame from a silver lighter up to kiss the end of the cigarette. With its job done quickly, efficiently, the flame is quickly extinguished and the lighter pocketed. Now we see more of the picture as the monstrous bare chested physical form of Cyrus Daniels is revealed.
Cyrus takes a moment to enjoy the nicotine high before plucking the cigarette from his mouth and speaking to an IWF audience for the first time in over a year.
44,150,400 seconds.
735,840 minutes.
12,264 hours.
511 days.
73 weeks.
By the time Sacrifice rolls around, almost seventeen months will have passed. Almost seventeen months, since you, Andy, were last my problem.
It's been a long time since that night, Andy. It's been a hell of a long time between that Open Fight Night and this one. A hell of a lot of things have changed in that time, not least your position in the Imperial Wrestling Federation, but ya know what they say, don't ya, Andy?
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Now I'm sure I don't need to remind ya, exactly what a bloke like me is capable of. A bloke who doesn't believe in Gods, a bloke who doesn't bow to Kings, and a bloke who doesn't bend to the iron will of heroes.
As their Imperial Champion, you are now all three.
You are their God, their King, their Hero.
To the people, you are their greatest hope, their absolute salvation, and their finest example.
To me, you're just a target - but not in the way you've trained your whole adult life to deal with. To me, you're not a target because of that which makes your duffel bag fourteen pounds heavier than it used to be two weeks ago, no - to me, you're a target because of the ideal you now represent.
An ideal that has never existed in my world - the real world.
Millions of people around the world now turn on their telly and see you as their beacon. They turn to their kids before they tuck them into bed every night, kiss them on the forehead and whisper "See, if you are good and you work really hard in life, it will all work out for the best eventually. And when the poor little tyke who knows no better asks "Like Andy?" They smile, and they nod and they whisper "Yes, just like Andy."
And so the lies continue, until one day that poor kid wakes up, looks in the mirror as a fully grown man, and realises just how far from the truth of this life they really are and always were.
Life, real life, is not that simple or fair or just.
In my world, the real world, any sense of justice is always corrupt.
In your world, every dog has its day. In my world, the real world, the dogs eat each other.
Sometimes, it just ain't enough to keep your head down and wait your turn, no, life, real life, just doesn't work that way.
Real life bends ya over an' sticks it straight up your arse, and before ya figure out where it all went wrong, ya find yourself sharin' a cell with a bloke who wants to do the same, until you break his jaw and ya both reach an understanding that you've been fucked over long enough already.
In my world, the real world, there's very few problems a clenched fist can't solve, the trick is to make sure you're always on the right side of one, and I think ya already know which side you're gonna be on this Monday, when I step back into your world and introduce ya to mine.
First I will introduce ya to the cold, hard steel and then I will introduce your fans ta the cold, hard truth of your existence as the most false of all of their silly little hopes, wishes and dreams...
And perhaps then you will understand that I'm not doing this for Bobby V...
Cyrus shakes his head slowly.
I'm doing this because I enjoy it.
Bobby is just paying me for the pleasure, because he knows I never work for free, even if the chance to destroy a real live hero is absolutely priceless...
Cyrus chuckles, before he grabs the camera and it cuts to static.
Well howdy there pardner.