Post by Vladimir Strife on Jul 8, 2013 20:40:20 GMT -4
With another Saturday Night Decimation coming to a close, crew members and staff scramble about the halls, clearing them of wires and cords, putting things back into their proper places, and sweeping the floors. Light spills in from the gateway between them and the public part of the arena, each looking up from their tasks to take note of the bloodied and battered GodKing as he crosses the threshold, his appearance that of a man who had just crawled up from Hell itself. Ever mindful of the talent, they make sure to keep out of his path, sticking to the sides until he has passed, each knowing his old penchant for collateral damage.
Vladimir seems to ignore them, drifting past the stagehands and taking a left down a long corridor. Halfway up it's length, he stops and turns toward a door on his right hand side, it's glass center etched with lettering that reads 'Vladimir Strife'. The GodKing opens the door gently, a familiar floral scent catching his attention as he does so.
"Lost?"
The solitary word escapes him in a mumble as he steps through the doorway and turns away from the woman sitting on the black leather couch, heading for the other side of the room. He makes his way around a wooden desk and plops down in the cushy office chair behind it. Bending down, he pulls open the door to his mini-fridge situated underneath, his eyes never once drifting to his company. Her sultry voice fills the air, almost seeming to echo.
"Why do you always assume that?"
"..Most people don't care to come visit these days."
Vladimir takes out a beer and pops the top off with a bottle opener. He holds it up and forward, the bottom tilted toward the guest, as an offering. Lizzie looks over the label of the Skullsplitter and raises an eyebrow, a slight grimace behind it.
"Uhmm.. I don't suppose you have any red wine?"
Strife chuckles and shuts the fridge with his foot before taking a long drink of his beverage. He sets the bottle down on his desk, next to a thin metal sign declaring him 'Fucker in charge of you fucking fucks' and pulls open the long middle drawer before him, producing from it a pack of Winstons and a cheap plastic lighter. He extends an offering once more, but she rolls her eyes at him, begetting a small shrug on his behalf. He lights one up and takes a long drag, leaning back in his chair and blowing the smoke into the air.
Her voice rings out once again, this time cracking slightly as though stifled by the tension.
"..It's been a long time.."
The GodKing's voice seems unaware of it, however, coming through crisp and concise.
"Yep."
He takes in another long swig from the bottle and swallows it, setting the bottle back to the desk and looking over it at the announcer at last.
"So, what brings you then? Is there a line for KingBear's office or something?"
The question seems to make her a bit uneasy, unsure what to make of it.
"No... I just thought.. maybe I could get an interview with you? I know you're busy and all, it's alright if not.."
The Legend, mid-puff, scoffs, bellowing out a cloud of haze.
"Me? Busy? Fuck no. People tend to avoid me like the god damned plague these days. You tell everyone you're retiring and they treat you like you're already dead. So no, I've got plenty of time.."
The voice of EVPW sits silent for a moment, as if expecting more. When the Romanian returns to his precious vices, she pipes up meekly, her voice hardly a squeak.
"So.. you'll do it then?"
Vladimir leans back in chair, eyes fixated on the bottle in his hand, considering the request.
"Now? All bloodied up like this?"
Lizzie quickly speaks up, an apologetic note to her tune.
"Oh, no, I didn't.. I mean, anytime. We could do it next week, give you time to get cleaned up and relax first.. No pressure or rush or anyth-"
"No.. I like it this way. I'll grant you an interview.. if I can have one first."
The man downs the remainder of his drink, lifting it up to drain before tossing it into a nearby wastebin. A high pitched clank rings out as it lands among it's predecessors, rattling before it comes to a rest. As he removes another from the fridge, he takes note of the puzzled expression on his colleague's face.
"I don't understand.."
Strife nods and sets the bottle on the desk, taking out his bottle opener and popping the top off with it.
"Before you turn on your camera there and start asking me questions... I get to ask a few of my own. Just three.. then we'll turn on the camera and you can have something to show them. Deal?"
He takes a short sip from the fresh brew, waiting for an answer from a still perplexed Liz. He breaks the silence after a short period while she seems frozen in place, unsure of how to answer.
"Well?"
She jerks slightly, startled, snapped out of a daze.
"Sure. Uhmm.. how should we-"
"Are you afraid of me, Ms. Morna?"
While she tries to take in the question, the Barbarian Lord calmly removes another cigarette from the pack and plants it between his lips. He lights it, eyes forward past it, past his subject, and set upon the glass door of his office. Lizzie follows his gaze to take note of it herself, then looks down to the floor. The racing of her heart told her the answer he sought.
"...Yes."
Vladimir blows out a breath of smoke, a blank expressionless look upon his face.
"Now, now, dear Lizzie... that's no way to do an interview, now, is it? Elaborate.."
She almost protests, but the futility of doing so sets in quickly and she simply sighs in defeat.
"I know that everyone says you have turned over a new leaf and you're on your medicine and everything.. I probably shouldn't be scared.. but I am. I can't stop seeing you as this person who would throw me out in front of a bus if that's what it took to get what you wanted. That's why you did it, after all, was to get what you wanted and it worked. I know you're not the same person you were then, but I know you're not as different as people like to think. Sure, you'd spare me now, possibly, because we've been friends for so long, but that only grants me a privilege.. it doesn't change the fact that anyone not in that select group is just a pawn in your eyes if it suits as a means to the end for you.. It doesn't make it any better.."
"You get a lot of crazy in here.. unstable stars attracted by the bright lights and chance for power.. and you can never be sure what they'll do.. but they know that guys like KingBear would go to the ends of the Earth to protect me and destroy anyone who messes with me. But you are the only one I've known who hurt me not because I spurned an advance or because they thought I'm weak.. but to take someone to the ends of the Earth.. You did what you did, even though I understand it was in unsound mind, just to hurt him. I was just a pawn in the game to you.. a means to an end. I'm safe now, but I don't know if it's truly because you see me as a friend or because you have nothing to gain from me.., And that scares me. I'm sorry, but it does.."
She slowly looks up to Vladimir, who is staring at his bottle of beer once again. He nods gently at her answer as he digests it.
"Don't be sorry.. It's quite alright. Why does everyone go to his office, Lizzie? Does my name not command the same respect anymore?"
Lizzie sighs heavily.
"I don't think it's that.. You've just been a bit absent. And I think people maybe trust his judgment a bit more.. He's a good man, he always does the best to do what is right. You know that.."
Strife scoffs and takes another long drink, his guest taken back by the gesture.
"Do you think this company.. this business needs men like that... the KingBears and the Haydens and the like more than it needs men like me?"
She hesitantly answers, not wanting to, but knowing it was key to getting her interview.
"I'm sorry... but yes. I think it's easy to be heartless and cold and calculating.. it's much harder to have to look at these men.. your employees, coworkers, opponents.. and remember that they're human too. And at the end of the day, people make this business.. loving, caring, people with their own lives and concerns.. not just mindless violence and brutality. Anyone can be the monster under the bedding, terrorizing and manipulating. Bu-"
"Then why is it still me? Why, when so many have sought that throne, none have so easily as you describe plucked it away?"
Lizzie slouches back in her chair a second before sitting forward, standing up to the menace.
"Because you've had the most success in doing so. Anyone can hate and make the call that benefits them, but it takes heart and courage to do the right thing!"
"Heh... the right thing..."
Vladimir drops the butt of his cigarette into the remaining sliver of beer in the bottom of his bottle and sets it aside.
"Men like that don't do the right thing, Lizzie.. they do the moral thing. No thinking required, you just do what society says. It's like a nice, neat, little cheat sheet. Sixty years ago, those same men would be busting you across the lips for not having dinner done. The right thing is what puts asses in seats, money in your pocket, and keeps both in place. Men like that will make the right choices, I'm sure, I just wonder how you'll all stomach it when you have to make the right choice that isn't moral and I'm not here to do it for you.."
His company looks back down at her feet, unsure of what to say in response.
"Come on.. That's three.. Go on and get your camera ready.."
Lizzie nods and goes to work doing so, setting it up on a tripod at an angle where it can capture both of them on film before pulling up a chair to the corner of his desk. She tidies up her hair and puts on a friendly smile, sitting in stark contrast beside the blood-stained scowl of the Titan. She pulls a microphone out of her purse and lifts it to her lips, tapping it with her other hand a few times to test it and repositioning her earpiece.
"And 1...2...3... Lizzie Morna here, the voice of EVPW, with legend and co-owner, Vladimir T. Strife. Before we start, I want to congratulate you on a hard fought victory against Kade Samuels in that barbaric barbed wire cage match. How are you feeling, Vlad?"
Vladimir produces another beer from the minifridge and pops off the lid.
"Sore."
As he takes a long drink, Lizzie looks dumbfounded. She sharply kicks him in the shin under the cover of the desk.
"Care to elaborate?"
The GodKing grins, setting his beverage down.
"My body aches... I have little stab wounds all over my body.. I look like I was just born. But I'm doing a lot better than the other guy, so it's a good night."
She lets out a small exasperated chuckle.
"A bit blunt and brief.. but that's Vlad for you. Moving on, what are your thoughts on your upcoming retirement match against Hayden Hardkore?"
Vlad smiles and takes another swig.
"My thoughts? I think it's fucking great! Few men have stood in the ring with me that I looked at as an actual piece of competition and not just some stepping stone. Most of these guys.. I just mow them down without cause for concern. I don't even remember half of their names to be honest.. But Hayden.. he's the one who got away. The one I always wanted to face and prove myself against and never got the opportunity. And now I get to do so, with both of us having cemented legacies of our own and leave everything in that diabolical structure I crafted and made famous.. To tell the truth, I don't believe there is, has been, or ever will be a match as big as this - no matter by terms of legacy, effect, brutality, or contest. Frankly, it's big enough to be the entire pay per view so far as I'm concerned."
"That's quite a bold statement.."
"Well, yes, but it's also quite true. Great men didn't make their names softly espousing their beliefs and contributions in the back of the room, Lizzie."
"A whole pay per view for one match though?"
"Not for one match, Lizzie, for THE match. Vladimir Strife, Hayden Hardkore, Asylum Cage, retirement. Think of the scope of this thing. This rivalry has been silently brewing since I, the undefeated, dominating rookie from SCW came to GHW where Hayden was the undefeated, dominating rookie and now we're here in EVPW, born of that company and we're finally facing down one on one to bring of the most legendary careers in the history of any of those companies to an end. It's huge."
"But still.. A whole pay per view for one match? Isn't that a bit... egocentric?"
"People come out in droves every 4 years in this country to bet on one jackass versus another, both of which they hardly know. We've both been around for over 4 years and at least our jackass is entertaining.. Are you saying you wouldn't buy it?"
"..I get them for free."
"Well, people would buy it."
"I don't know.."
"Well, good thing I do then. Anyhow, moving on.."
Lizzie clears her throat and shoots him an impatient look.
"Ah, yes. A lot of people are wondering, Vlad, if this retirement is really the end for you. Is this a temporary thing or can we look forward to seeing the GodKing back in action someday?"
"Really? That's what people want to know?"
"Well... yes."
The King shakes his head and takes another long drink of his Skullsplitter.
"It's a retirement. Look, I've wrestled practically every legend to come through those doors and I've beaten them all. I've had the kind of career men would kill to have. Something that will never be repeated. When was the last time someone went 5 - 0, Liz?"
"Uhmm.. I believe that was either Kasbian Stalker, Kamil Fathi, or Thomas Cathy... So, a few years ago? Although I think Kade was on his way toward it.."
The Barbarian Lord grins and finishes off his beer. Tossing it aside for another loud clink and rattle, he turns back to Lizzie.
"All of which were years ago. I went 59 - 0. Fifty-nine. There isn't a man alive with a winning record against me. KingBear may have broken the streak, but I beat him in the Pit before that and beating me took so much out of him that he wasn't seen in this business again for months. Desperado put me in a position where I had no option left but to tap, but I bested him at least three times before that by my count."
Ms. Morna pipes in abruptly.
"What about Dustin Delta?"
"Dustin Delta pinned me in a submission match. He paid off the referee when he couldn't get me to tap and the only reason I didn't come out with it then was the motive for revenge. Then the coward bailed without giving me a proper match. That 'loss' is stricken from the record, my dear. Now... if I can continue.."
She meekly looks down at her feet and quietly speaks.
"Sorry.. please do."
"Anyhow.. I have created the most brutal, barbaric match there is. I am a Hall of Famer. I've main evented more pay per views and shows than I can remember. I've won Abaddon's Pit, the Hardcore Games, the SCW Deathmatch, the Electric Pool Deathmatch. I've beaten 77 different opponents, many of them multiple times, and only two have ever returned the favor - each only once. Hawkeye, Hyper Elf, Jake Diamond, Brett Steel, Rhaps, KingBear, Matthew Oliveira, Dominik Santiago, Metal Dragon, Ryan Hughes, Jaggeroth, Dave Carter, Demon, Desperado, Alex Stall, LRey. The list of my victims reads like a Who's Who of this business spanning back further than memory serves most. Hayden Hardkore himself ranks among them, he and Hyperion being one of the many teams Matt and I defeated in a previous incarnation of the SCW match."
Vladimir takes a swill of his alcoholic brew and leans in toward the camera.
"I'm 73-2. A 10 time champion, 4 times holding 2 belts simultaneously. My championship reigns span 660 days in total, 377 of which were consecutive. I held the Fury Unleashed, the GHW Tag Team Championship, the United Glory, the Charging Glory - twice, the GHW World Championship when I beat Ryan Hughes to be the only man to hold the top title in both GHW and EVPW at the same time, the Solid Kore - which I held for 100 days - through almost the entire span of SCW's existence until I merged it to create the King Of The Deathmatch title, which I held for it's first 256 days of existence, building a name and legacy for that belt that saw it more highly contested than any other title of those days. It was the longest title run of anybody in the history of GHW OR EVPW! I've held the Imperial title on two occasions, totaling 213 days as it's champion, the longest aggregate reign of any Imperial Champion and the only one to hold it twice!"
The King takes a pause and a deep breath for dramatic effect before finishing.
"I, alongside KingBear, created this very company!"
Lizzie opens her mouth and goes to speak, but the Bambi Killer shushes her before she can.
"Look.. I've accomplished more in my career than any other man has or ever will. In this eternal game of King of the Mountain, I am god on high, watching down in bemusement. ..There's nothing left for me, Lizzie. I could cling to my glory and fight on until the day that I die or am unable to continue on, but for what? To grow old and feeble publicly, embarrassing myself when my age catches up to me and I can no longer outlast my opponents or compete with them? Roman, Greek, Egyptian, Norse... even gods aren't immortal, my dear.."
The pair sit in silence a moment, the air about them thick as he gazes down at the oak grain.
"Being this may very well be our final interview, Vladimir, I have one final question. It's been asked many, many times and I don't know that it has ever been answered. Normally, I wouldn't ask it, because I know I would never get an answer... but I feel like I must.."
"Well, out with it already! I just told you I don't want to grow old here."
Strife plays angry for a second, before smiling, the two chuckling at the joke. She sighs and gets serious once more before asking him her question.
"What's your secret? I've seen man after man face off against you and fall. Bigger, stronger, faster, smarter, younger, older, more extreme, more experienced, more desperate, more determined.. and all of them ended up at your feet. Nearly everyone respects it, almost as many fear it, but I don't understand it. It hardly seems possibly. What makes you so dominant as opposed to anybody else? Is it just the right measure of those aspects or something I'm missing?"
The GodKing smiles wide and leans back in his chair. He runs his fingers through his hair and sets his hand against his chin, considering his options.
"You're right.."
Lizzie cocks an eye at his answer.
"How?"
He nods and looks at her in the eyes.
"You usually would never get an answer."
She pounds on the desk in frustration.
"Oh, come on!"
Strife quickly stops her.
"Hey... I said 'usually'.."
Her eyes grow wide and she smiles, moving the microphone in closer to him.
"..Steroids. Heaps and heaps of steroids. I eat a bowl of them every morning for breakfast, I pump them so much I'm not sure I have blood anymore.. hell, I have this one in a cream I beat off with."
Lizzie grunts and pounds her fist against the oak again with a loud thud.
"GOD DAMN IT, VLAD!! I know you're lying! GHW tested for steroids and so do you guys! What is it, really?!"
The Hall of Famer laughs, the normally innocent gesture seeming rather macabre among his mask of drying blood.
"Fine.. you want the truth?"
"YES! Yes, yes, yes! It's been 5 years, tell me!"
"Alright.. here it is.."
Vladimir hunkers forward and deviously grins.
"See... we spread this whole story about my knee being weak... but the truth is.. I don't even have a knee. Nope.. it's a prosthetic. Complete diversion."
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! That's bullshit! I've seen you nak-eeehh..."
She catches herself a little too late, the two looking at one another and then away awkwardly.
Frustrated and giving up, Lizzie stands up and heads for her camera. The Titan notices and stops her.
"Come on, now.. Here. Sit down and I'll tell you. But it's nothing so crafty or glamorous as the lies.."
Lizzie turns back around and lets out a heavy breath.
"I don't care if it is.. I just want to know.. and, more importantly, I know the fans would love to know.."
"Come on.."
She takes a seat once more and holds the microphone out.
"The truth is that it's simply who I am.. I am in actuality what all of those men pretend to be."
The voice of EVPW seems confused by his statement and presses him on it.
"What do you mean?"
"We lose sight of it in the entertainment.. but this is a rough business. We get into the ring and we beat the living shit out of each other. Every man and woman in that locker room is a fighter - a warrior. And we take that for granted now.."
The King is deep in thought, his expression serious as he continues.
"Now, normal people don't just do that. They don't trade blows for fun or sport. And despite what nicknames we may garner, we are all people... And so, they must harden themselves. They must prepare themselves to be willing and able to harm and destroy their fellow man. We go out there and do this, but at the end of the day, we're still just people.. we sit down with our families and crack open a beer, enjoy a nice hot meal and turn on the television to catch the newest episode of The Walking Dead or the nightly news or, if you're Jaggeroth, you throw on a good horror and spank the monkey."
Vladimir takes out another beer of his own and opens it, taking a long, slow sip.
"This is simple enough to understand, I suppose. We're all people who just happen to be wrestlers and get paid to hurt one another and in order to do so, we have to motivate ourselves to do so despite our natural instinct for survival of the group."
"But before all of that, there is a motivation to become a wrestler. We're all here in America where we could be nearly anything we want. Something has to motivate us to take on this career before we have to motivate ourselves for the role itself. For many, that motive is power. For others, it's control. For yet others, it's the fame and fortune. It takes a strong desire to make that decision though."
With a deep chug of the brew, he smiles momentarily and sets it aside.
"So, they build up this anger toward one another on the surface and go to war. They may do some horrible things, but deep down below it all, they're not necessarily bad people. We build up this persona.. this badass alternate version of who we are that is capable of going out there and destroying another human being. The KingBear you see in that ring can damn near bat a man's head off of his shoulders with a single blow of his mighty fist... but the KingBear I know is mindful of how gentle he pets a puppy. Envy is a mean bitch who would gouge your eyes out if she had to... but Aryana is a pretty sweet girl.."
"But this... this is me. Not just Vladimir Strife... but me. I didn't become a wrestler for fame or fortune or power or control. I don't have to build up a persona to be willing and able to hurt people. At my core... I'm not just an average, everyday person."
The Barbarian Lord downs the rest of his drink, although he has over half of it left and tosses it aside.
"I am, at my very core, a white hot ball of rage. Hatred and anger stew inside of me, boiling and frothing. I find our very species but a disgusting blight on the face of the Earth. They squander their opportunities and gifts, reveling in stupidity and menial bullshit. When I step into that ring, I'm not hurting men because I want to win, I'm winning because I want to hurt them. I don't go home and turn on the tele, I sit around - mind ripe and swollen with malice and deviant thoughts. I escape into video games where I can destroy more, just to hold me over until the next time I have a victim in front of me."
Lizzie looks down sullenly and shies away slightly.
"At a time.. for a short period.. I had a family I loved.. That I could come home to. And then it was taken from me and that rage came back to the surface. It never left.. even as I held my child in my arms, that wrath lay deep down, searing under the layers I maintain to control it outside of that ring. I'm riddled with selfish desires and vile thoughts. I lay awake at night envisioning and crafting new ways to inflict pain and suffering. Don't mistake me.. I take my medication and it stables my mind. These are not the thoughts of a man who has gone off the deep end. I'm perfectly set within reality. It's simply that nothing makes me feel more alive, more fulfilled, more... me.. than rage does. It's who I am down to my very core. I am the very embodiment of hatred... of anger."
Vladimir leans back and gives a mild nod.
"So, while all these other men and women prepare themselves for this life.. for that ring and the violence therein.. Craft their little personas to do what they could never... and maintain this from who they really are and who they are at home... this is it for me. It's the only place that I have ever been able to be who I truly am. When you see me on the street and you ask me to sign your cards or photos or t-shirts and I smile to you and do so.. that is my act. I smile and play nice and tell your children they're too tough for me to entertain you and keep you coming.. but in the back of my mind, I'm counting the ways I could make you scream in agony. And those screams to me are what I imagine a choir of hallelujah sounds to the religious.. It's therapeutic.. serene... an alert that all is right with the world."
"In a business full of cheap fucking imposters, I'm the real deal. I'm the heartless, violent, brutal, son of a bitch they play pretend trying to be. The one true bastard - a bastion of the wrath they only hope to emulate convincingly enough. I am Shakespeare at amateur's night, God among false prophets, a .45 in the toy aisle! I am Cthulhu at a god damned masquerade! My sweetest dreams are darker that your wildest fears.. While my opponents play a tough guy and a badass, my rage is eternal and searing. My wrath is infinite. My vengeance is boundless."
"This ring... this arena.. this is where I feel at home. It's everywhere else that I'm preparing myself for, building my persona.. playing pretend. Paying taxes, insurance, loans, courts.. that's where I play nice.. pretending I understand what all of it means and what is going on, but I don't.. It's just mindless drivel to me. But war.. combat.. destruction.. mayhem.. pain.. I get that. That's life for me, not that other shit. And in my world.. that monstrosity you call the Asylum.. that is my palace."
A shiver runs up the announcer's spine as the Behemoth turns to her with a grin.
"That's my secret... I'm always angry."
"Th-thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, Vladimir Strife."
Lizzie walks over and turns off the camera, the bloody scowl of the GodKing the last image on the film for the EVPW faithfuls.
"So, all of this.. what you do out there... it's just a game to you, isn't it?"
The Romanian lights up a new cigarette and takes a deep puff.
"And a pretty fun one at that. Of course, it's always more fun when you're good at it."
"And those men and women you decimate? Just means to an end, huh? Just as I thought?"
She stares down at the camera, not wanting to look back at the Barbarian Lord.
"Sometimes. Not that I don't enjoy the sport and entertainment they provide. They're fun."
"God.. you really are crazy, aren't you?"
He scoffs at her accusation.
"Worse.. I'm perfectly sane. These aren't errant misgivings, my dear, this is who I am. It's who I've always been."
"Evil?"
The King grins at his desk, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.
"I'd have called it wrathful, but 'Evil'.. I think I like that even more. It has a certain ring to it."
Lizzie shakes her head and takes her exit, leaving the Hardcore King to himself once more.
~End~
Vladimir seems to ignore them, drifting past the stagehands and taking a left down a long corridor. Halfway up it's length, he stops and turns toward a door on his right hand side, it's glass center etched with lettering that reads 'Vladimir Strife'. The GodKing opens the door gently, a familiar floral scent catching his attention as he does so.
"Lost?"
The solitary word escapes him in a mumble as he steps through the doorway and turns away from the woman sitting on the black leather couch, heading for the other side of the room. He makes his way around a wooden desk and plops down in the cushy office chair behind it. Bending down, he pulls open the door to his mini-fridge situated underneath, his eyes never once drifting to his company. Her sultry voice fills the air, almost seeming to echo.
"Why do you always assume that?"
"..Most people don't care to come visit these days."
Vladimir takes out a beer and pops the top off with a bottle opener. He holds it up and forward, the bottom tilted toward the guest, as an offering. Lizzie looks over the label of the Skullsplitter and raises an eyebrow, a slight grimace behind it.
"Uhmm.. I don't suppose you have any red wine?"
Strife chuckles and shuts the fridge with his foot before taking a long drink of his beverage. He sets the bottle down on his desk, next to a thin metal sign declaring him 'Fucker in charge of you fucking fucks' and pulls open the long middle drawer before him, producing from it a pack of Winstons and a cheap plastic lighter. He extends an offering once more, but she rolls her eyes at him, begetting a small shrug on his behalf. He lights one up and takes a long drag, leaning back in his chair and blowing the smoke into the air.
Her voice rings out once again, this time cracking slightly as though stifled by the tension.
"..It's been a long time.."
The GodKing's voice seems unaware of it, however, coming through crisp and concise.
"Yep."
He takes in another long swig from the bottle and swallows it, setting the bottle back to the desk and looking over it at the announcer at last.
"So, what brings you then? Is there a line for KingBear's office or something?"
The question seems to make her a bit uneasy, unsure what to make of it.
"No... I just thought.. maybe I could get an interview with you? I know you're busy and all, it's alright if not.."
The Legend, mid-puff, scoffs, bellowing out a cloud of haze.
"Me? Busy? Fuck no. People tend to avoid me like the god damned plague these days. You tell everyone you're retiring and they treat you like you're already dead. So no, I've got plenty of time.."
The voice of EVPW sits silent for a moment, as if expecting more. When the Romanian returns to his precious vices, she pipes up meekly, her voice hardly a squeak.
"So.. you'll do it then?"
Vladimir leans back in chair, eyes fixated on the bottle in his hand, considering the request.
"Now? All bloodied up like this?"
Lizzie quickly speaks up, an apologetic note to her tune.
"Oh, no, I didn't.. I mean, anytime. We could do it next week, give you time to get cleaned up and relax first.. No pressure or rush or anyth-"
"No.. I like it this way. I'll grant you an interview.. if I can have one first."
The man downs the remainder of his drink, lifting it up to drain before tossing it into a nearby wastebin. A high pitched clank rings out as it lands among it's predecessors, rattling before it comes to a rest. As he removes another from the fridge, he takes note of the puzzled expression on his colleague's face.
"I don't understand.."
Strife nods and sets the bottle on the desk, taking out his bottle opener and popping the top off with it.
"Before you turn on your camera there and start asking me questions... I get to ask a few of my own. Just three.. then we'll turn on the camera and you can have something to show them. Deal?"
He takes a short sip from the fresh brew, waiting for an answer from a still perplexed Liz. He breaks the silence after a short period while she seems frozen in place, unsure of how to answer.
"Well?"
She jerks slightly, startled, snapped out of a daze.
"Sure. Uhmm.. how should we-"
"Are you afraid of me, Ms. Morna?"
While she tries to take in the question, the Barbarian Lord calmly removes another cigarette from the pack and plants it between his lips. He lights it, eyes forward past it, past his subject, and set upon the glass door of his office. Lizzie follows his gaze to take note of it herself, then looks down to the floor. The racing of her heart told her the answer he sought.
"...Yes."
Vladimir blows out a breath of smoke, a blank expressionless look upon his face.
"Now, now, dear Lizzie... that's no way to do an interview, now, is it? Elaborate.."
She almost protests, but the futility of doing so sets in quickly and she simply sighs in defeat.
"I know that everyone says you have turned over a new leaf and you're on your medicine and everything.. I probably shouldn't be scared.. but I am. I can't stop seeing you as this person who would throw me out in front of a bus if that's what it took to get what you wanted. That's why you did it, after all, was to get what you wanted and it worked. I know you're not the same person you were then, but I know you're not as different as people like to think. Sure, you'd spare me now, possibly, because we've been friends for so long, but that only grants me a privilege.. it doesn't change the fact that anyone not in that select group is just a pawn in your eyes if it suits as a means to the end for you.. It doesn't make it any better.."
"You get a lot of crazy in here.. unstable stars attracted by the bright lights and chance for power.. and you can never be sure what they'll do.. but they know that guys like KingBear would go to the ends of the Earth to protect me and destroy anyone who messes with me. But you are the only one I've known who hurt me not because I spurned an advance or because they thought I'm weak.. but to take someone to the ends of the Earth.. You did what you did, even though I understand it was in unsound mind, just to hurt him. I was just a pawn in the game to you.. a means to an end. I'm safe now, but I don't know if it's truly because you see me as a friend or because you have nothing to gain from me.., And that scares me. I'm sorry, but it does.."
She slowly looks up to Vladimir, who is staring at his bottle of beer once again. He nods gently at her answer as he digests it.
"Don't be sorry.. It's quite alright. Why does everyone go to his office, Lizzie? Does my name not command the same respect anymore?"
Lizzie sighs heavily.
"I don't think it's that.. You've just been a bit absent. And I think people maybe trust his judgment a bit more.. He's a good man, he always does the best to do what is right. You know that.."
Strife scoffs and takes another long drink, his guest taken back by the gesture.
"Do you think this company.. this business needs men like that... the KingBears and the Haydens and the like more than it needs men like me?"
She hesitantly answers, not wanting to, but knowing it was key to getting her interview.
"I'm sorry... but yes. I think it's easy to be heartless and cold and calculating.. it's much harder to have to look at these men.. your employees, coworkers, opponents.. and remember that they're human too. And at the end of the day, people make this business.. loving, caring, people with their own lives and concerns.. not just mindless violence and brutality. Anyone can be the monster under the bedding, terrorizing and manipulating. Bu-"
"Then why is it still me? Why, when so many have sought that throne, none have so easily as you describe plucked it away?"
Lizzie slouches back in her chair a second before sitting forward, standing up to the menace.
"Because you've had the most success in doing so. Anyone can hate and make the call that benefits them, but it takes heart and courage to do the right thing!"
"Heh... the right thing..."
Vladimir drops the butt of his cigarette into the remaining sliver of beer in the bottom of his bottle and sets it aside.
"Men like that don't do the right thing, Lizzie.. they do the moral thing. No thinking required, you just do what society says. It's like a nice, neat, little cheat sheet. Sixty years ago, those same men would be busting you across the lips for not having dinner done. The right thing is what puts asses in seats, money in your pocket, and keeps both in place. Men like that will make the right choices, I'm sure, I just wonder how you'll all stomach it when you have to make the right choice that isn't moral and I'm not here to do it for you.."
His company looks back down at her feet, unsure of what to say in response.
"Come on.. That's three.. Go on and get your camera ready.."
Lizzie nods and goes to work doing so, setting it up on a tripod at an angle where it can capture both of them on film before pulling up a chair to the corner of his desk. She tidies up her hair and puts on a friendly smile, sitting in stark contrast beside the blood-stained scowl of the Titan. She pulls a microphone out of her purse and lifts it to her lips, tapping it with her other hand a few times to test it and repositioning her earpiece.
"And 1...2...3... Lizzie Morna here, the voice of EVPW, with legend and co-owner, Vladimir T. Strife. Before we start, I want to congratulate you on a hard fought victory against Kade Samuels in that barbaric barbed wire cage match. How are you feeling, Vlad?"
Vladimir produces another beer from the minifridge and pops off the lid.
"Sore."
As he takes a long drink, Lizzie looks dumbfounded. She sharply kicks him in the shin under the cover of the desk.
"Care to elaborate?"
The GodKing grins, setting his beverage down.
"My body aches... I have little stab wounds all over my body.. I look like I was just born. But I'm doing a lot better than the other guy, so it's a good night."
She lets out a small exasperated chuckle.
"A bit blunt and brief.. but that's Vlad for you. Moving on, what are your thoughts on your upcoming retirement match against Hayden Hardkore?"
Vlad smiles and takes another swig.
"My thoughts? I think it's fucking great! Few men have stood in the ring with me that I looked at as an actual piece of competition and not just some stepping stone. Most of these guys.. I just mow them down without cause for concern. I don't even remember half of their names to be honest.. But Hayden.. he's the one who got away. The one I always wanted to face and prove myself against and never got the opportunity. And now I get to do so, with both of us having cemented legacies of our own and leave everything in that diabolical structure I crafted and made famous.. To tell the truth, I don't believe there is, has been, or ever will be a match as big as this - no matter by terms of legacy, effect, brutality, or contest. Frankly, it's big enough to be the entire pay per view so far as I'm concerned."
"That's quite a bold statement.."
"Well, yes, but it's also quite true. Great men didn't make their names softly espousing their beliefs and contributions in the back of the room, Lizzie."
"A whole pay per view for one match though?"
"Not for one match, Lizzie, for THE match. Vladimir Strife, Hayden Hardkore, Asylum Cage, retirement. Think of the scope of this thing. This rivalry has been silently brewing since I, the undefeated, dominating rookie from SCW came to GHW where Hayden was the undefeated, dominating rookie and now we're here in EVPW, born of that company and we're finally facing down one on one to bring of the most legendary careers in the history of any of those companies to an end. It's huge."
"But still.. A whole pay per view for one match? Isn't that a bit... egocentric?"
"People come out in droves every 4 years in this country to bet on one jackass versus another, both of which they hardly know. We've both been around for over 4 years and at least our jackass is entertaining.. Are you saying you wouldn't buy it?"
"..I get them for free."
"Well, people would buy it."
"I don't know.."
"Well, good thing I do then. Anyhow, moving on.."
Lizzie clears her throat and shoots him an impatient look.
"Ah, yes. A lot of people are wondering, Vlad, if this retirement is really the end for you. Is this a temporary thing or can we look forward to seeing the GodKing back in action someday?"
"Really? That's what people want to know?"
"Well... yes."
The King shakes his head and takes another long drink of his Skullsplitter.
"It's a retirement. Look, I've wrestled practically every legend to come through those doors and I've beaten them all. I've had the kind of career men would kill to have. Something that will never be repeated. When was the last time someone went 5 - 0, Liz?"
"Uhmm.. I believe that was either Kasbian Stalker, Kamil Fathi, or Thomas Cathy... So, a few years ago? Although I think Kade was on his way toward it.."
The Barbarian Lord grins and finishes off his beer. Tossing it aside for another loud clink and rattle, he turns back to Lizzie.
"All of which were years ago. I went 59 - 0. Fifty-nine. There isn't a man alive with a winning record against me. KingBear may have broken the streak, but I beat him in the Pit before that and beating me took so much out of him that he wasn't seen in this business again for months. Desperado put me in a position where I had no option left but to tap, but I bested him at least three times before that by my count."
Ms. Morna pipes in abruptly.
"What about Dustin Delta?"
"Dustin Delta pinned me in a submission match. He paid off the referee when he couldn't get me to tap and the only reason I didn't come out with it then was the motive for revenge. Then the coward bailed without giving me a proper match. That 'loss' is stricken from the record, my dear. Now... if I can continue.."
She meekly looks down at her feet and quietly speaks.
"Sorry.. please do."
"Anyhow.. I have created the most brutal, barbaric match there is. I am a Hall of Famer. I've main evented more pay per views and shows than I can remember. I've won Abaddon's Pit, the Hardcore Games, the SCW Deathmatch, the Electric Pool Deathmatch. I've beaten 77 different opponents, many of them multiple times, and only two have ever returned the favor - each only once. Hawkeye, Hyper Elf, Jake Diamond, Brett Steel, Rhaps, KingBear, Matthew Oliveira, Dominik Santiago, Metal Dragon, Ryan Hughes, Jaggeroth, Dave Carter, Demon, Desperado, Alex Stall, LRey. The list of my victims reads like a Who's Who of this business spanning back further than memory serves most. Hayden Hardkore himself ranks among them, he and Hyperion being one of the many teams Matt and I defeated in a previous incarnation of the SCW match."
Vladimir takes a swill of his alcoholic brew and leans in toward the camera.
"I'm 73-2. A 10 time champion, 4 times holding 2 belts simultaneously. My championship reigns span 660 days in total, 377 of which were consecutive. I held the Fury Unleashed, the GHW Tag Team Championship, the United Glory, the Charging Glory - twice, the GHW World Championship when I beat Ryan Hughes to be the only man to hold the top title in both GHW and EVPW at the same time, the Solid Kore - which I held for 100 days - through almost the entire span of SCW's existence until I merged it to create the King Of The Deathmatch title, which I held for it's first 256 days of existence, building a name and legacy for that belt that saw it more highly contested than any other title of those days. It was the longest title run of anybody in the history of GHW OR EVPW! I've held the Imperial title on two occasions, totaling 213 days as it's champion, the longest aggregate reign of any Imperial Champion and the only one to hold it twice!"
The King takes a pause and a deep breath for dramatic effect before finishing.
"I, alongside KingBear, created this very company!"
Lizzie opens her mouth and goes to speak, but the Bambi Killer shushes her before she can.
"Look.. I've accomplished more in my career than any other man has or ever will. In this eternal game of King of the Mountain, I am god on high, watching down in bemusement. ..There's nothing left for me, Lizzie. I could cling to my glory and fight on until the day that I die or am unable to continue on, but for what? To grow old and feeble publicly, embarrassing myself when my age catches up to me and I can no longer outlast my opponents or compete with them? Roman, Greek, Egyptian, Norse... even gods aren't immortal, my dear.."
The pair sit in silence a moment, the air about them thick as he gazes down at the oak grain.
"Being this may very well be our final interview, Vladimir, I have one final question. It's been asked many, many times and I don't know that it has ever been answered. Normally, I wouldn't ask it, because I know I would never get an answer... but I feel like I must.."
"Well, out with it already! I just told you I don't want to grow old here."
Strife plays angry for a second, before smiling, the two chuckling at the joke. She sighs and gets serious once more before asking him her question.
"What's your secret? I've seen man after man face off against you and fall. Bigger, stronger, faster, smarter, younger, older, more extreme, more experienced, more desperate, more determined.. and all of them ended up at your feet. Nearly everyone respects it, almost as many fear it, but I don't understand it. It hardly seems possibly. What makes you so dominant as opposed to anybody else? Is it just the right measure of those aspects or something I'm missing?"
The GodKing smiles wide and leans back in his chair. He runs his fingers through his hair and sets his hand against his chin, considering his options.
"You're right.."
Lizzie cocks an eye at his answer.
"How?"
He nods and looks at her in the eyes.
"You usually would never get an answer."
She pounds on the desk in frustration.
"Oh, come on!"
Strife quickly stops her.
"Hey... I said 'usually'.."
Her eyes grow wide and she smiles, moving the microphone in closer to him.
"..Steroids. Heaps and heaps of steroids. I eat a bowl of them every morning for breakfast, I pump them so much I'm not sure I have blood anymore.. hell, I have this one in a cream I beat off with."
Lizzie grunts and pounds her fist against the oak again with a loud thud.
"GOD DAMN IT, VLAD!! I know you're lying! GHW tested for steroids and so do you guys! What is it, really?!"
The Hall of Famer laughs, the normally innocent gesture seeming rather macabre among his mask of drying blood.
"Fine.. you want the truth?"
"YES! Yes, yes, yes! It's been 5 years, tell me!"
"Alright.. here it is.."
Vladimir hunkers forward and deviously grins.
"See... we spread this whole story about my knee being weak... but the truth is.. I don't even have a knee. Nope.. it's a prosthetic. Complete diversion."
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! That's bullshit! I've seen you nak-eeehh..."
She catches herself a little too late, the two looking at one another and then away awkwardly.
Frustrated and giving up, Lizzie stands up and heads for her camera. The Titan notices and stops her.
"Come on, now.. Here. Sit down and I'll tell you. But it's nothing so crafty or glamorous as the lies.."
Lizzie turns back around and lets out a heavy breath.
"I don't care if it is.. I just want to know.. and, more importantly, I know the fans would love to know.."
"Come on.."
She takes a seat once more and holds the microphone out.
"The truth is that it's simply who I am.. I am in actuality what all of those men pretend to be."
The voice of EVPW seems confused by his statement and presses him on it.
"What do you mean?"
"We lose sight of it in the entertainment.. but this is a rough business. We get into the ring and we beat the living shit out of each other. Every man and woman in that locker room is a fighter - a warrior. And we take that for granted now.."
The King is deep in thought, his expression serious as he continues.
"Now, normal people don't just do that. They don't trade blows for fun or sport. And despite what nicknames we may garner, we are all people... And so, they must harden themselves. They must prepare themselves to be willing and able to harm and destroy their fellow man. We go out there and do this, but at the end of the day, we're still just people.. we sit down with our families and crack open a beer, enjoy a nice hot meal and turn on the television to catch the newest episode of The Walking Dead or the nightly news or, if you're Jaggeroth, you throw on a good horror and spank the monkey."
Vladimir takes out another beer of his own and opens it, taking a long, slow sip.
"This is simple enough to understand, I suppose. We're all people who just happen to be wrestlers and get paid to hurt one another and in order to do so, we have to motivate ourselves to do so despite our natural instinct for survival of the group."
"But before all of that, there is a motivation to become a wrestler. We're all here in America where we could be nearly anything we want. Something has to motivate us to take on this career before we have to motivate ourselves for the role itself. For many, that motive is power. For others, it's control. For yet others, it's the fame and fortune. It takes a strong desire to make that decision though."
With a deep chug of the brew, he smiles momentarily and sets it aside.
"So, they build up this anger toward one another on the surface and go to war. They may do some horrible things, but deep down below it all, they're not necessarily bad people. We build up this persona.. this badass alternate version of who we are that is capable of going out there and destroying another human being. The KingBear you see in that ring can damn near bat a man's head off of his shoulders with a single blow of his mighty fist... but the KingBear I know is mindful of how gentle he pets a puppy. Envy is a mean bitch who would gouge your eyes out if she had to... but Aryana is a pretty sweet girl.."
"But this... this is me. Not just Vladimir Strife... but me. I didn't become a wrestler for fame or fortune or power or control. I don't have to build up a persona to be willing and able to hurt people. At my core... I'm not just an average, everyday person."
The Barbarian Lord downs the rest of his drink, although he has over half of it left and tosses it aside.
"I am, at my very core, a white hot ball of rage. Hatred and anger stew inside of me, boiling and frothing. I find our very species but a disgusting blight on the face of the Earth. They squander their opportunities and gifts, reveling in stupidity and menial bullshit. When I step into that ring, I'm not hurting men because I want to win, I'm winning because I want to hurt them. I don't go home and turn on the tele, I sit around - mind ripe and swollen with malice and deviant thoughts. I escape into video games where I can destroy more, just to hold me over until the next time I have a victim in front of me."
Lizzie looks down sullenly and shies away slightly.
"At a time.. for a short period.. I had a family I loved.. That I could come home to. And then it was taken from me and that rage came back to the surface. It never left.. even as I held my child in my arms, that wrath lay deep down, searing under the layers I maintain to control it outside of that ring. I'm riddled with selfish desires and vile thoughts. I lay awake at night envisioning and crafting new ways to inflict pain and suffering. Don't mistake me.. I take my medication and it stables my mind. These are not the thoughts of a man who has gone off the deep end. I'm perfectly set within reality. It's simply that nothing makes me feel more alive, more fulfilled, more... me.. than rage does. It's who I am down to my very core. I am the very embodiment of hatred... of anger."
Vladimir leans back and gives a mild nod.
"So, while all these other men and women prepare themselves for this life.. for that ring and the violence therein.. Craft their little personas to do what they could never... and maintain this from who they really are and who they are at home... this is it for me. It's the only place that I have ever been able to be who I truly am. When you see me on the street and you ask me to sign your cards or photos or t-shirts and I smile to you and do so.. that is my act. I smile and play nice and tell your children they're too tough for me to entertain you and keep you coming.. but in the back of my mind, I'm counting the ways I could make you scream in agony. And those screams to me are what I imagine a choir of hallelujah sounds to the religious.. It's therapeutic.. serene... an alert that all is right with the world."
"In a business full of cheap fucking imposters, I'm the real deal. I'm the heartless, violent, brutal, son of a bitch they play pretend trying to be. The one true bastard - a bastion of the wrath they only hope to emulate convincingly enough. I am Shakespeare at amateur's night, God among false prophets, a .45 in the toy aisle! I am Cthulhu at a god damned masquerade! My sweetest dreams are darker that your wildest fears.. While my opponents play a tough guy and a badass, my rage is eternal and searing. My wrath is infinite. My vengeance is boundless."
"This ring... this arena.. this is where I feel at home. It's everywhere else that I'm preparing myself for, building my persona.. playing pretend. Paying taxes, insurance, loans, courts.. that's where I play nice.. pretending I understand what all of it means and what is going on, but I don't.. It's just mindless drivel to me. But war.. combat.. destruction.. mayhem.. pain.. I get that. That's life for me, not that other shit. And in my world.. that monstrosity you call the Asylum.. that is my palace."
A shiver runs up the announcer's spine as the Behemoth turns to her with a grin.
"That's my secret... I'm always angry."
"Th-thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, Vladimir Strife."
Lizzie walks over and turns off the camera, the bloody scowl of the GodKing the last image on the film for the EVPW faithfuls.
"So, all of this.. what you do out there... it's just a game to you, isn't it?"
The Romanian lights up a new cigarette and takes a deep puff.
"And a pretty fun one at that. Of course, it's always more fun when you're good at it."
"And those men and women you decimate? Just means to an end, huh? Just as I thought?"
She stares down at the camera, not wanting to look back at the Barbarian Lord.
"Sometimes. Not that I don't enjoy the sport and entertainment they provide. They're fun."
"God.. you really are crazy, aren't you?"
He scoffs at her accusation.
"Worse.. I'm perfectly sane. These aren't errant misgivings, my dear, this is who I am. It's who I've always been."
"Evil?"
The King grins at his desk, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.
"I'd have called it wrathful, but 'Evil'.. I think I like that even more. It has a certain ring to it."
Lizzie shakes her head and takes her exit, leaving the Hardcore King to himself once more.
~End~
