War of Blood

Roleplay Roleplay by SYNDICATE
On Fri, Jul07, 2017 7:28pm America/Phoenix
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War of Blood
***TSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH***

*A long burst of static fills the screen before cutting to a still shot of a black steel chair, sitting in the middle of an empty room.  Over the chair hangs a single spotlight.*

***step...step...step***

*Footsteps are heard in the distance, approaching the camera.*

***step...step...step***

*Finally, a figure steps out of the shadows, revealing himself to be Syndicate.  He is dressed in his usual white leather jacket, black t-shirt, and blue jeans, and holds the Undisputed World title belt over his left shoulder.  He stands behind the folding chair, smirking at the camera.*

Syndicate: Static, huh?  You're a multi-time World Champion and a Hall of Famer, Krim, and the best idea you come up with is to say that my static effect is "played out"?

*The champion lets out a small chuckle.*

Syndicate: Right.

*Syndicate steps around the chair and takes a seat, leaning towards the camera before speaking.*

Syndicate: You know, boys, I don't know if we've really talked yet about the stipulations for our match on Mayhem.  I know I haven't.  But I think it's about time that we discuss the war ahead of us.  The war...

*As Syndicate speaks, another spotlight comes on behind him to reveal a large looming white wall filled with weaponry of all sorts.  Baseball bats, chairs, barbed wire, bags of thumbtacks, and even packs of C4 explosives are hung on the wall.  Syndicate smiles.*

Syndicate: ...of blood.

*Syndicate quickly stands up and kicks the chair aside.*

Syndicate: I've been on record before saying that I don't win matches; I "survive" them.  But even I have to admit...a street fight is something that is hard to simply "survive".

*He turns around and looks up at the massive amount of weapons in front of him.*

Syndicate: Think about it, boys.  The three of us, no DQs and no countouts - the way it should have been last time.  All of these weapons and more at our disposal.  A no holds barred brawl.

*He smiles once more.*

Syndicate: Ya know, Krim, I used to be a high flyer too, back when I first started wrestling.  I was a solid 215 pounds back then and used the Tornado DDT as my finisher.  I tried to innovate with the "springboard neckbreaker" and other moves.  It was some of the most fun I've ever had in my career.

*Syndicate pauses.*

Syndicate: But I quickly realized that, at that time, you couldn't get anywhere with that style.  Not when everyone else was 300-something pounds and ready to slam you to the ground at a moment's notice.  Can't get high in the air if you're lying on the canvas, I guess.

*The Los Angeles Outlaw glances back at the camera.*

Syndicate: So I adapted.  I put on some weight, I switched finishers, and I became the guy that would slam the smaller wrestlers down.  And, lo and behold, it worked.  Here I am today, "The MAN", as you mentioned, Krim.  But the only thing more important than being "The Man"...

*He pats the World title on his shoulder.*

Syndicate: ...is being the champion.  Something that no amount of weaponry will be able to change.

*Syndicate turns around, faces the camera, and reaches back, grabbing a black baseball bat off the wall.  He looks at it, pleased.*

Syndicate: I haven't touched one of these in forever.  Probably since the Big Time Agency days.  Before that, I've downed men from all around the world with this bat.  I've ended careers like that of Euan Milton.  But then, I decided that being champion was more important.  Now...now, I get the chance to do it again.

*Syndicate reaches to the other side of him and grabs the barbed wire, being careful not to pierce his own skin with it.  As he continues to speak, he slowly wraps the wire around the end of the bat.*

Syndicate: So yeah, Krim, I'm not a high flyer anymore like you are.  I might not be in your "league", as you put it.  I may not have slammed someone into a burning |BLEEP|ing ring and lived to tell the tale.  But I'm still your Undisputed World Heavyweight Champion, a fact that I guarantee will remain true after Mayhem is over.  You may have the veteran's edge, you may be able to flip 20 million times over my head before landing a picture-perfect elbow drop...but that doesn't give you a win over the World Champion.  Not even close.  You of all people should know that.

Syndicate: I'm sorry if I've ever offended you with my words, Krim.  Really, I am.  I know that you're capable of anything in that ring, and I respect that.  But I'll still whack you with this bat all the same.  And who knows?  Maybe you'll even bleed.

*He smiles as he finishes wrapping the barbed wire.*

Syndicate: And however could I forget about dear ol' Cameron Westport, the other man in this war of blood?  Cam, Krim said some really damning stuff about you in his latest video.  I encourage you to go watch it if you haven't already.  If not, it's pretty much the exact same stuff I've been saying about you for weeks now.

Syndicate: You don't get it, do you, Cam?  Surrounding yourself with "yes men" won't do you any favors.   It won't get you any extra W's.  All those guys do is turn you away from the truth: you are a sub par wrestler that gets lucky and hits flashy moves to get attention and hype.  You don't belong in the main event, fighting for the Undisputed World title.  You don't belong in a war of blood with two of the greatest to ever live.  You will NEVER belong as long as you live the lifestyle that you currently do.

*Syndicate chuckles.*

Syndicate: You're the "Camchise", huh?  You think you're "laser focused" and ready to tackle any challenge?  Heh.  What a load of |BLEEP|ing garbage.  Tell me, Cam, how are you going to react when I shove this barbed wire baseball bat in your face?  Your posse won't be there to protect you then, will they?  No, they'll be running in the other direction because they KNOW who I am and what I'm capable of.  Your friends KNOW that you're walking into a straight-up murder, but they're just too afraid to tell you, aren't they?

*Syndicate throws the baseball bat over his shoulder.  A loud crashing noise can be heard as it hits the floor behind him.*

Syndicate: You have no idea what you're getting into.  You have never - NEVER - experienced these kinds of stakes.  This World title is my lifeline, Cam.  It is the very embodiment of greatness, something you know nothing about.  This title, this championship, does not have your name on it.  I don't know if you're too inebriated to read this or not, but the championship does, in fact, read "Syndicate" on the front.

*The champion smirks.*

Syndicate: That's not going to change on Mayhem.  Neither you nor Krimzon will take this World title away from me.  You'll try, and I know I'll be hurting afterward, but you'll fail, just like everyone else.  So come right up...and take a swing at the champ.  I'll make sure that this war...this war of BLOOD...leaves you both in a heap.  Welcome to the Syndicate.

*Syndicate gets up and walks off camera just as the feed descends back into static.*

***TSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH***

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