Post by Vladimir Strife on Jan 1, 2019 18:43:49 GMT -4
"They say that time heals all wounds.."
Crystov Razetti sits on a sidewalk in California, his back against a brick wall. Atop his head sits a pointed black hat, threads of glittering tinsel hanging out from the top and 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' emblazoned upon the front in large silver letters. Despite the festive attire, the look upon the former star's face shows no hints of celebration. His countenance is dour and serious, a marked change from his typically more light-hearted, although devious nature.
"..and yet, as another year begins and puts even more distance between us and the past, there is a wound that still festers as deeply as ever before. A transgression now almost 12 years removed that changed my life forever."
The gaze in his eyes are far away, as if somehow peering through time into that very moment.
"March 8th, 2007. It was set to be the biggest night of my career so far. I was a part of a tournament to crown the first ever GHW Cruiserweight champion and I was going to go head to head with Trickshot to win my way into the finals. Trickshot.. who I'd scouted so heavily, as anyone who knows me will know I'm great at. I was prepared for everything he had used in the ring in the previous year - I knew the ways he loved to set up his finishing moves so that I could be ready to counter them at a seconds notice, I'd remembered what moves he followed up others with when he would get into a rhythm, the works. I was going to go out there and I was going to win and I was going to go on to be win my first championship within my first couple of months in a legitimate professional wrestling company. And then I walked into the wrong hallway.."
"There he was... Vladimir Strife. The Hardcore King, the Undefeated Behemoth... And there I was... some newcomer who didn't take every opportunity to screw other people over and had thusly earned the distinction of being noone and nothing to him. Why would the budding career of a man who had dreamed for years to get to there mean anything to the powerful Vladimir Strife? What was the culmination of busting my ass off to become a premier athlete who could do things in that ring that no one else ever could before.. what was THAT to a man who was allowed to run unleashed upon GHW because he was good for marketing because he could keep people reeled in with a microphone in his hand? It was NOTHING.."
With a thousand mile stare in his eyes still, Razetti continued his tale, looking off blankly at nothing in particular.
"Vladimir was on a tear and furious at Human Wreckingball and his friends, so he wanted to send them a message... So he slammed me into the wall before I had time to comprehend what was going on and started punching me over and over, knocking me nearly unconscious.. and then he drug me out to the ring, never giving me the time to recover enough to defend myself, pulled me up into a modified Skesis Driver and ended up breaking my neck right there in the middle of that arena surrounded by fans. All of my dreams were shattered in that moment.. I went from two wins away from finally holding a championship from a professional wrestling organization.. to months and months of grueling therapy just fighting to be able to walk again.."
"And what did GHW do? They banned that move.. They didn't fire the man who had ended my career or even suspend him... no, they weren't going to hurt their cash cow over some little fuck that no one even knew. So I dedicated myself to the rehab.. I was determined to get myself back to that stage. First it was being able to stand holding onto a walker, then taking a step, then two, just working with every ounce of strength I had in me to do things that most of you take for granted every day. I did it until I finally was fit enough to come back with the mask I donned as Draigon off and start planning my retribution."
"I thought that day would never come, Vlad.. until you saw my talent for scouting things and turned to me to help you assemble a team. With your clout and power, I had access to ALL of the company files and information. I used it to make psychological profiles of the most ruthless and violent members of EVPW and assembled them together, all while convincing you that that was exactly the kind of group you needed. I want to blame my persuasive skills for that, but well, who knows how susceptible you would have been if I hadn't switched out the medication for your schizophrenia with a placebo?"
A smirk finally cracks along the face of the Reaper as he says this.
"I watched you circle the drain... your trust in me only growing as you lost trust in reality. I watched as everything feels apart around you at your own hands.. while you did the most vile and awful thing imaginable to Amanda Hallsworth - the only ally you had left in the Kingdom... as you tried to hang Metal Dragon by his neck.. as you turned your back on KingBear, as you drew a gun on him and fired, as you stuffed him into a car and sped down the highway like a maniac before slamming into another car head-on and not only put the lives of yourself and him into danger, but as if in a stamp of approval on what I was doing by God almighty, you stumbled out and saw that the car you'd hit was that of your pregnant wife. I mean, what are the odds?! It was then.. that very moment, that I knew you'd truly and finally felt the carnage in your life that you had wrought in mine.. and I sat glued to the screen as you walked out to that ring, surrounded on the way by everyone in his company who now all viewed you as the scum you are and with your warped and fucked up mind, you tried to kill the closest friend you'd ever had inside the Asylum Cage, only to lose the very last thing you had left in this world - that stupid fucking streak."
"That was me, Vlad... it was all thanks to ME! I finally had my revenge and it felt GREAT. And that's not to discount everyone else's contributions.. especially KingBear's and especially yours, Vladdy.. but the thing of it all is... even after all that, even after I evened the score, even nearly a dozen years after the fateful night it all began... it still rages in my mind.. I still want nothing more than to take everything from you again.."
"So here I sit.. New Year's Day.. a new year and a new chance to put all of that behind me and leave the past where it lie."
Crystov reaches out of camera range, retrieving a flute and a bottle of champagne. The cork already gone, he tilts the bottle and fills the glass, before raising it up in front of him.
"To you, Vlad.. and to a New Year and new opportunities.."
The Reaper throws back the glass, draining in down his gullet with a sigh and a smile. He takes the bottle up again and reaches to the side of the screen once more, this time coming up with a rag. He twists the corner of it tightly with two fingers before stuffing it into the bottle as far as he can. He stands up to his feet and digs through his pocket a moment, coming back out of it with a lighter. He flicks it and holds the flame up to the rag, it slowly climbing up the side of the cloth. Crystov holds it out in another toast as he looks into the camera.
"And to achieving our wildest dreams."
He turns back towards the building he was leaned against and throws the bottle threw a window, a burst of light coming from inside as it shatters. A smile comes to his face wider than before as he looks onto this and he sticks his hands in his pockets contently, then turns and walks away as the camera pans out to show the sign mounted over the door reading 'The Jared Nathan Memorial Gymnasium'.
Crystov Razetti sits on a sidewalk in California, his back against a brick wall. Atop his head sits a pointed black hat, threads of glittering tinsel hanging out from the top and 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' emblazoned upon the front in large silver letters. Despite the festive attire, the look upon the former star's face shows no hints of celebration. His countenance is dour and serious, a marked change from his typically more light-hearted, although devious nature.
"..and yet, as another year begins and puts even more distance between us and the past, there is a wound that still festers as deeply as ever before. A transgression now almost 12 years removed that changed my life forever."
The gaze in his eyes are far away, as if somehow peering through time into that very moment.
"March 8th, 2007. It was set to be the biggest night of my career so far. I was a part of a tournament to crown the first ever GHW Cruiserweight champion and I was going to go head to head with Trickshot to win my way into the finals. Trickshot.. who I'd scouted so heavily, as anyone who knows me will know I'm great at. I was prepared for everything he had used in the ring in the previous year - I knew the ways he loved to set up his finishing moves so that I could be ready to counter them at a seconds notice, I'd remembered what moves he followed up others with when he would get into a rhythm, the works. I was going to go out there and I was going to win and I was going to go on to be win my first championship within my first couple of months in a legitimate professional wrestling company. And then I walked into the wrong hallway.."
"There he was... Vladimir Strife. The Hardcore King, the Undefeated Behemoth... And there I was... some newcomer who didn't take every opportunity to screw other people over and had thusly earned the distinction of being noone and nothing to him. Why would the budding career of a man who had dreamed for years to get to there mean anything to the powerful Vladimir Strife? What was the culmination of busting my ass off to become a premier athlete who could do things in that ring that no one else ever could before.. what was THAT to a man who was allowed to run unleashed upon GHW because he was good for marketing because he could keep people reeled in with a microphone in his hand? It was NOTHING.."
With a thousand mile stare in his eyes still, Razetti continued his tale, looking off blankly at nothing in particular.
"Vladimir was on a tear and furious at Human Wreckingball and his friends, so he wanted to send them a message... So he slammed me into the wall before I had time to comprehend what was going on and started punching me over and over, knocking me nearly unconscious.. and then he drug me out to the ring, never giving me the time to recover enough to defend myself, pulled me up into a modified Skesis Driver and ended up breaking my neck right there in the middle of that arena surrounded by fans. All of my dreams were shattered in that moment.. I went from two wins away from finally holding a championship from a professional wrestling organization.. to months and months of grueling therapy just fighting to be able to walk again.."
"And what did GHW do? They banned that move.. They didn't fire the man who had ended my career or even suspend him... no, they weren't going to hurt their cash cow over some little fuck that no one even knew. So I dedicated myself to the rehab.. I was determined to get myself back to that stage. First it was being able to stand holding onto a walker, then taking a step, then two, just working with every ounce of strength I had in me to do things that most of you take for granted every day. I did it until I finally was fit enough to come back with the mask I donned as Draigon off and start planning my retribution."
"I thought that day would never come, Vlad.. until you saw my talent for scouting things and turned to me to help you assemble a team. With your clout and power, I had access to ALL of the company files and information. I used it to make psychological profiles of the most ruthless and violent members of EVPW and assembled them together, all while convincing you that that was exactly the kind of group you needed. I want to blame my persuasive skills for that, but well, who knows how susceptible you would have been if I hadn't switched out the medication for your schizophrenia with a placebo?"
A smirk finally cracks along the face of the Reaper as he says this.
"I watched you circle the drain... your trust in me only growing as you lost trust in reality. I watched as everything feels apart around you at your own hands.. while you did the most vile and awful thing imaginable to Amanda Hallsworth - the only ally you had left in the Kingdom... as you tried to hang Metal Dragon by his neck.. as you turned your back on KingBear, as you drew a gun on him and fired, as you stuffed him into a car and sped down the highway like a maniac before slamming into another car head-on and not only put the lives of yourself and him into danger, but as if in a stamp of approval on what I was doing by God almighty, you stumbled out and saw that the car you'd hit was that of your pregnant wife. I mean, what are the odds?! It was then.. that very moment, that I knew you'd truly and finally felt the carnage in your life that you had wrought in mine.. and I sat glued to the screen as you walked out to that ring, surrounded on the way by everyone in his company who now all viewed you as the scum you are and with your warped and fucked up mind, you tried to kill the closest friend you'd ever had inside the Asylum Cage, only to lose the very last thing you had left in this world - that stupid fucking streak."
"That was me, Vlad... it was all thanks to ME! I finally had my revenge and it felt GREAT. And that's not to discount everyone else's contributions.. especially KingBear's and especially yours, Vladdy.. but the thing of it all is... even after all that, even after I evened the score, even nearly a dozen years after the fateful night it all began... it still rages in my mind.. I still want nothing more than to take everything from you again.."
"So here I sit.. New Year's Day.. a new year and a new chance to put all of that behind me and leave the past where it lie."
Crystov reaches out of camera range, retrieving a flute and a bottle of champagne. The cork already gone, he tilts the bottle and fills the glass, before raising it up in front of him.
"To you, Vlad.. and to a New Year and new opportunities.."
The Reaper throws back the glass, draining in down his gullet with a sigh and a smile. He takes the bottle up again and reaches to the side of the screen once more, this time coming up with a rag. He twists the corner of it tightly with two fingers before stuffing it into the bottle as far as he can. He stands up to his feet and digs through his pocket a moment, coming back out of it with a lighter. He flicks it and holds the flame up to the rag, it slowly climbing up the side of the cloth. Crystov holds it out in another toast as he looks into the camera.
"And to achieving our wildest dreams."
He turns back towards the building he was leaned against and throws the bottle threw a window, a burst of light coming from inside as it shatters. A smile comes to his face wider than before as he looks onto this and he sticks his hands in his pockets contently, then turns and walks away as the camera pans out to show the sign mounted over the door reading 'The Jared Nathan Memorial Gymnasium'.
