02-25-2020, 11:31 PM
OOC Like Ian, I wanted to get something posted for this. Here it is... a little bit of insight into the mind of the man behind The Devil Himself. Enjoy, and good luck Ian!
The Trios Tournament.
In the end, it was not to be. My trio with Peyton Rice and Alistaire Allocco ended up unsuccessful in the semi-finals, falling in defeat to the trio of Jordan Majors, Bree Lancaster, and Datura. Just like that - the ability to do as we see fit in SCW was ripped away. I had already made my intent clear. I had no intention of using my own wish. I was going to defer it to Peyton. Had the powers that be declined my request, I simply would have used the contract to her benefit anyway. They would have been powerless to stop me. That’s what the Trios Tournament was about: unfettered power. And now that power is held in the hands of Ace Marshall, who comes and goes as he pleases, Glory Braddock, the self-proclaimed “Best in the World”, and David Helms…
It seems what is old is new again.
I suppose it would be a sense of irony to hear those words uttered through my voice. After all, I have held onto the tenuous strands of relevance in SCW to the point where others would relate the same opinion to me. And yet here we are. Call it fate… call it destiny… I believe I am still here for a reason. I have something to fulfill… something that cannot be seen in the eyes of the unwilling. There are those who do not wish to see the purpose in the stories of others. So they remain willingly blind to them. So be it… blind yourself to my pursuits. I promise you that doing so will only be hazardous to your own health.
All will be revealed in time…
-----
Damian Angel left the arena shortly after the final fall. For all he had known, Alistaire Allocco and Peyton Rice were still in the arena, licking their wounds following the defeat in the Trios Tournament. For Damian, the camaraderie of the locker-room was not a factor beyond the days of the New Blood Rebellion, but even some 12 years following the dissolution of the influential force, Damian had been involved in groups. An ill-advised alliance with Greg Cherry and Chris Lawler did much damage to his own aura and his will to carry on in SCW. Although it nearly resulted in Tag Team Championship glory, it was not to be. Still, that scar is worn by the Devil Himself to this day.
Following the show, however, it was Jessica Winters, longtime SCW interviewer, who found the man inside the hotel bar. He wasn’t drinking, as Damian hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in his life. Rather, he was simply back in a corner booth. He had expected some SCW wrestlers to make use of the bar at some point in the night, and the corner was dark enough that he was able to sit in place without the distraction of social obligations. And yet, when she saw him sitting alone, Jessica approached.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked earnestly. Damian wasn’t in the mood, but with the phrasing of the question, a “Yes” would have been a lie, and a “No” would have invited her to remain. So he didn’t answer, leaving the “No” implied, and Jessica took the chair, sitting across from Damian. “Tough break out there,” she said, offering Damian an empty platitude. He didn’t reciprocate.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked. “Completely off the record?”
“If I say “yes”,” Damian finally responds, his voice hoarse as he glares across the table at her. “Will you leave me alone?”
“I can agree to that,” she responds. It was a shortness in his answer that she hadn’t been used to in the years she’s had dealing with Damian in his various personas - the Hellbound Messiah, The Devil Himself, leader of Har Megiddo… “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Damian answers in a word. “Now go.”
“No, it’s not “nothing”,” Jessica astutely responds. “There’s been a change in you since you returned. You’re not the chaotic, frantic force of nature you’ve become known as in the past. You’re calculating… but thoughtful. What happened under that ring? Who or what pulled you under? What did you see?”
“You are asking too many questions,” Damian growled. Jessica stopped asking the questions as Damian sits back, sighing. “You have been to my compound… you have met my people…”
“Yeah…”
“My followers… they were not monsters,” Damian says, beginning to spin a narrative. “They were regular people who needed a leader. They believed in me. They trusted me. And I cared for them. What some felt was a cult…”
“Wait…” Jessica catches the key word. “Was?”
Damian doesn’t respond. Instead, he slides a newspaper across to her, folded over to the story he wanted her to see - it was the story of a compound fire in a secluded community. Jessica looks it over, sees the picture, and looks up to Damian. “Is this…”
“The Order,” Damian again begins. “It was unsustainable from the beginning. Almost as if previous leaders had designed it as such that it was always supposed to be passed to the next person until the last person carried the blame for its dissolution and decimation. I was put on trial for my crimes, and ultimately my hubris had become so great that everything I knew was to burn.”
“So you’re not affiliated with this anymore?” Jessica was a smart one.
“Sure as I sit before you,” he stretches his arms out to his side, displaying the nothing around him, “I am a leader without any followers… a King without a kingdom... “
“Damian, I had no idea,” Jessica reaches across a sympathetic hand. Damian pulls his back.
“And you would be wise to ensure no one else does,” he snaps at her. “I do not require sympathy, and quite frankly, I do not expect any to be shown regardless. After the things I have done in this company…”
He trails off. Jessica, staying true to her word, stands up from the seat. “You have my word, Damian,” she says, a warm smile on her face attempting to break through to him. “But, that doesn’t explain… why Peyton?”
Damian looks to Jessica, a sharp expression in his eyes as if to tell her that he’s not answering that question. Taking the hint, she walks from the table. Damian sits back again, looking back over the bar and watching her as she leaves. The scene cuts...
-----
To some, the SCW Television Championship is a way to show consistency… to show that you have what it takes to remain successful in the midst of the gruelling schedule Supreme Championship Wrestling puts it’s talent through. Some have shown quite adept at this. For others, it was a one-and-done proposition. I fall into the latter category, but do not mistake my week for weakness of the body, for it was the mind that was impure. I was not mentally fit at the time for the rigors of the Television Championship. I may not be mentally fit for it now. That remains to be seen. For whether I am fit or not, my opportunity is now.
Jake Starr… the present Television Champion… how fitting it is that you and I are set to collide once more. It would appear in the eyes of most that you have had my number throughout our mutual tenures. Simply put - you have. I cannot refute this and do not wish to condescend to try. I am also certain that you will not sit there and explain to me why history is constant, and why this will lead to your victory. At this juncture in your career, you would wise not to incite me…
And yet, perhaps that is what you seek after all… to provoke the, how did you put it? “OG Damian Angel”? Yes, I believe it was something like that. But you see, unlike you Jake, I will not be giving a grandiose address. I will simply keep my message short and to the point. You want the original… the legend…
You will leave Breakdown disappointed.
The Devil Himself? The Hellbound Messiah? THAT Damian Angel is dead. That Damian Angel died in London, England, alongside his consort. The megalith broke down that night. Everything you have seen in the twelve years since then has been a man holding onto himself desperately trying not to let go, because letting go means falling into desperation. It was something I could not do. I was a leader. My followers relied on me… my daughter relied on me. And I could not provide what I needed to provide them… what they deserved… if I fell apart. So the Damian Angel that built SCW… that was inducted into the Hall of Fame last year… he is a fraud and he is no more.
What you get instead is a Damian Angel with absolute clarity. What you are getting instead of the megalith is a man who knows who he is… a man who wears the sins of a DECADE of violence and destruction, and like a phoenix out of the ashes is reborn. I do hope that does not disappoint you too much, because as I look myself in the mirror I can tell you with absolute certainty…
The Damian Angel you are set to face on Breakdown tomorrow night IS the superior Damian Angel. I do not expect you to take my word for it, however. I expect you to be skeptical… even briefly disappointed. When you see me across the ring from you… when you recognize the man that walked through the hell of witnessing my one true love sacrificing her life for mine… only to have to live each day without her…
I have overcome tragedy… perhaps that is what has drawn me to you, Peyton. I have lived what you are going through and I let it change me. It made me a worse man than I was before it… you are a better person than me. You are going to change the world. You need only to stop the world from changing you first.
I apologize for that brief interlude, Jake. I am certain you understand. See, I have a million thoughts that I had locked in my mind, held them prisoner, only to see them released now and I am still attempting to figure a way to keep them sorted. Or maybe I’ll simply stop. Maybe I’ll let them run free and see what happens.
As for tomorrow night, I expect a war. I expect nothing less than your best. The Championship you carry deserves it. And in the end…
I fight with honor. I fight with nothing left holding me back, nothing poisoning my mind. And really, Jake Starr… that fact alone makes me more dangerous than ever.
The Trios Tournament.
In the end, it was not to be. My trio with Peyton Rice and Alistaire Allocco ended up unsuccessful in the semi-finals, falling in defeat to the trio of Jordan Majors, Bree Lancaster, and Datura. Just like that - the ability to do as we see fit in SCW was ripped away. I had already made my intent clear. I had no intention of using my own wish. I was going to defer it to Peyton. Had the powers that be declined my request, I simply would have used the contract to her benefit anyway. They would have been powerless to stop me. That’s what the Trios Tournament was about: unfettered power. And now that power is held in the hands of Ace Marshall, who comes and goes as he pleases, Glory Braddock, the self-proclaimed “Best in the World”, and David Helms…
It seems what is old is new again.
I suppose it would be a sense of irony to hear those words uttered through my voice. After all, I have held onto the tenuous strands of relevance in SCW to the point where others would relate the same opinion to me. And yet here we are. Call it fate… call it destiny… I believe I am still here for a reason. I have something to fulfill… something that cannot be seen in the eyes of the unwilling. There are those who do not wish to see the purpose in the stories of others. So they remain willingly blind to them. So be it… blind yourself to my pursuits. I promise you that doing so will only be hazardous to your own health.
All will be revealed in time…
-----
Damian Angel left the arena shortly after the final fall. For all he had known, Alistaire Allocco and Peyton Rice were still in the arena, licking their wounds following the defeat in the Trios Tournament. For Damian, the camaraderie of the locker-room was not a factor beyond the days of the New Blood Rebellion, but even some 12 years following the dissolution of the influential force, Damian had been involved in groups. An ill-advised alliance with Greg Cherry and Chris Lawler did much damage to his own aura and his will to carry on in SCW. Although it nearly resulted in Tag Team Championship glory, it was not to be. Still, that scar is worn by the Devil Himself to this day.
Following the show, however, it was Jessica Winters, longtime SCW interviewer, who found the man inside the hotel bar. He wasn’t drinking, as Damian hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in his life. Rather, he was simply back in a corner booth. He had expected some SCW wrestlers to make use of the bar at some point in the night, and the corner was dark enough that he was able to sit in place without the distraction of social obligations. And yet, when she saw him sitting alone, Jessica approached.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked earnestly. Damian wasn’t in the mood, but with the phrasing of the question, a “Yes” would have been a lie, and a “No” would have invited her to remain. So he didn’t answer, leaving the “No” implied, and Jessica took the chair, sitting across from Damian. “Tough break out there,” she said, offering Damian an empty platitude. He didn’t reciprocate.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked. “Completely off the record?”
“If I say “yes”,” Damian finally responds, his voice hoarse as he glares across the table at her. “Will you leave me alone?”
“I can agree to that,” she responds. It was a shortness in his answer that she hadn’t been used to in the years she’s had dealing with Damian in his various personas - the Hellbound Messiah, The Devil Himself, leader of Har Megiddo… “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Damian answers in a word. “Now go.”
“No, it’s not “nothing”,” Jessica astutely responds. “There’s been a change in you since you returned. You’re not the chaotic, frantic force of nature you’ve become known as in the past. You’re calculating… but thoughtful. What happened under that ring? Who or what pulled you under? What did you see?”
“You are asking too many questions,” Damian growled. Jessica stopped asking the questions as Damian sits back, sighing. “You have been to my compound… you have met my people…”
“Yeah…”
“My followers… they were not monsters,” Damian says, beginning to spin a narrative. “They were regular people who needed a leader. They believed in me. They trusted me. And I cared for them. What some felt was a cult…”
“Wait…” Jessica catches the key word. “Was?”
Damian doesn’t respond. Instead, he slides a newspaper across to her, folded over to the story he wanted her to see - it was the story of a compound fire in a secluded community. Jessica looks it over, sees the picture, and looks up to Damian. “Is this…”
“The Order,” Damian again begins. “It was unsustainable from the beginning. Almost as if previous leaders had designed it as such that it was always supposed to be passed to the next person until the last person carried the blame for its dissolution and decimation. I was put on trial for my crimes, and ultimately my hubris had become so great that everything I knew was to burn.”
“So you’re not affiliated with this anymore?” Jessica was a smart one.
“Sure as I sit before you,” he stretches his arms out to his side, displaying the nothing around him, “I am a leader without any followers… a King without a kingdom... “
“Damian, I had no idea,” Jessica reaches across a sympathetic hand. Damian pulls his back.
“And you would be wise to ensure no one else does,” he snaps at her. “I do not require sympathy, and quite frankly, I do not expect any to be shown regardless. After the things I have done in this company…”
He trails off. Jessica, staying true to her word, stands up from the seat. “You have my word, Damian,” she says, a warm smile on her face attempting to break through to him. “But, that doesn’t explain… why Peyton?”
Damian looks to Jessica, a sharp expression in his eyes as if to tell her that he’s not answering that question. Taking the hint, she walks from the table. Damian sits back again, looking back over the bar and watching her as she leaves. The scene cuts...
-----
To some, the SCW Television Championship is a way to show consistency… to show that you have what it takes to remain successful in the midst of the gruelling schedule Supreme Championship Wrestling puts it’s talent through. Some have shown quite adept at this. For others, it was a one-and-done proposition. I fall into the latter category, but do not mistake my week for weakness of the body, for it was the mind that was impure. I was not mentally fit at the time for the rigors of the Television Championship. I may not be mentally fit for it now. That remains to be seen. For whether I am fit or not, my opportunity is now.
Jake Starr… the present Television Champion… how fitting it is that you and I are set to collide once more. It would appear in the eyes of most that you have had my number throughout our mutual tenures. Simply put - you have. I cannot refute this and do not wish to condescend to try. I am also certain that you will not sit there and explain to me why history is constant, and why this will lead to your victory. At this juncture in your career, you would wise not to incite me…
And yet, perhaps that is what you seek after all… to provoke the, how did you put it? “OG Damian Angel”? Yes, I believe it was something like that. But you see, unlike you Jake, I will not be giving a grandiose address. I will simply keep my message short and to the point. You want the original… the legend…
You will leave Breakdown disappointed.
The Devil Himself? The Hellbound Messiah? THAT Damian Angel is dead. That Damian Angel died in London, England, alongside his consort. The megalith broke down that night. Everything you have seen in the twelve years since then has been a man holding onto himself desperately trying not to let go, because letting go means falling into desperation. It was something I could not do. I was a leader. My followers relied on me… my daughter relied on me. And I could not provide what I needed to provide them… what they deserved… if I fell apart. So the Damian Angel that built SCW… that was inducted into the Hall of Fame last year… he is a fraud and he is no more.
What you get instead is a Damian Angel with absolute clarity. What you are getting instead of the megalith is a man who knows who he is… a man who wears the sins of a DECADE of violence and destruction, and like a phoenix out of the ashes is reborn. I do hope that does not disappoint you too much, because as I look myself in the mirror I can tell you with absolute certainty…
The Damian Angel you are set to face on Breakdown tomorrow night IS the superior Damian Angel. I do not expect you to take my word for it, however. I expect you to be skeptical… even briefly disappointed. When you see me across the ring from you… when you recognize the man that walked through the hell of witnessing my one true love sacrificing her life for mine… only to have to live each day without her…
I have overcome tragedy… perhaps that is what has drawn me to you, Peyton. I have lived what you are going through and I let it change me. It made me a worse man than I was before it… you are a better person than me. You are going to change the world. You need only to stop the world from changing you first.
I apologize for that brief interlude, Jake. I am certain you understand. See, I have a million thoughts that I had locked in my mind, held them prisoner, only to see them released now and I am still attempting to figure a way to keep them sorted. Or maybe I’ll simply stop. Maybe I’ll let them run free and see what happens.
As for tomorrow night, I expect a war. I expect nothing less than your best. The Championship you carry deserves it. And in the end…
I fight with honor. I fight with nothing left holding me back, nothing poisoning my mind. And really, Jake Starr… that fact alone makes me more dangerous than ever.