The scene opened up in a small diner in Downtown Louisville, Kentucky, not too far away from the KFC Yum Center. The door opened and a nervous young man entered the establishment. He was Christopher Martello. He paused for a moment and started to look around, as if looking for someone. He doesn’t have to look far, as there is only one other person in there. He was sitting near the back window, wearing a black hoodie that kept his face noticeably hidden from view. Christopher cautiously approached the individual, making sure to keep out of arms length of the person. He wasn’t usually afraid of competitors, but this one had a very unique history of violence to him.
Christopher: Um, M-Mr. Syn?
The person’s head snapped in his direction, and Christopher nearly gasped in surprise as he stared into the most sinister pair of bright green eyes he had ever seen. Syn gave the startled interviewer an enigmatic smile as he steeples his hands on the table and goes to speak.
Syn: Ah, I take it that you’re the (Syn clicked his teeth with his tongue, before continuing) person whom contacted my younger brother. Forgive me for being more than a bit curious, but, uh, I thought that it was usually the person in charge whom usually constructed these little meetings, hmm?
Christopher flinched slightly under Syn’s gaze, but managed to answer his question.
Christopher: She is busy getting everything in order for the first show, so she sent me and our other interviewer, Lisa Courier, to meet with a few members of the roster.
Syn glances at Christopher in curiosity.
Syn: And she chose to send you specifically to…â€Talk†to little ole’ me because?
Christopher took a moment to fish out a small piece of paper from his pocket, before reading over it, much to Syn’s amusement.
Christopher: There was a footnote on your info from your former promoter, The Late Kurt Agne, mentioning caution when sending female staffers in your presence. It mentioned something about an incident with one of his interviews nearly quitting her job and your involvement in it?
Syn gives a particularly wicked smile as he hears this.
Syn: Ah, Candy Lebabe. The one of the first of many poor souls to fall into my little web of broken spirits (Syn paused for a moment as he silently reminisces) but that’s a tale for another moment in time, I’m afraid. So, Chrissstopher (Christopher a flinch back slightly at Syn’s sinister tone, but otherwise tries not to show any outward fear) what is it that our lovely employer has in store for me on our first show?
Christopher reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, before handing it to Syn. Syn took it and immediately read over it.
Christopher: Well, you’re in a qualifying match where the winner moves on and competes at our first pay-per-view, Breaking Ground, for the World Heavyweight Championship. You’ll be going match against Johan Johannson.
Syn stopped reading and looked at Christopher with a raised eyebrow, apparently familiar with the name. He slowly gave a sinister smirk.
Syn: The former MMA fighter with the Viking personality complex. I see…
He abruptly stands up, startling Christopher slightly as he walked around the table as if he is going to leave, before he turns back to Christopher, a smirk on his face.
Syn: I’m afraid that our little discussion must come to an early end. It was very (Syn’s smirk turns evil) pleasant, despite it only being a few short mements. I look forward to more in the future.
Syn turned and placed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and walked out of the diner, with Christopher looking on as the screen fades out.
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene opened back up in a seemingly abandoned warehouse on Chicago’s Southside, the building giving off an eerie, almost sinister feel as the camera takes the empty structure. There were several long, thick, ominous looking steel chains hanging from the ceiling, and abandoned machinery taking up the space on the ground floor. Up on the second floor, a dim light is show coming from what looked to be an office room of some kind.
???: Ah, welcome. It is not often that I have the pleasure of having a bold soul enter my little workshop of horrors.
The camera slowly turns, and reveals Syn, leaning against the doorframe with a very dark smile upon his face. Syn was dressed to compete: dark purple tights, boots with neon-green kick-pads, his hands taped, a dark purple trench-coat, and the joker like facepaint smeared onto his face. He calmly walks back out of the office and over to the steel railing and leans on it, gazing down at the rest of the factory below with a smirk on his face, before he leaps over the railing and lands gracefully on his feet in a crouched position, before he starts to walk through the deserted building.
Syn: Yes, this very place is where the madness that has spelled the end of so many in this industry comes from. You see, this place is very near and dear to me. (Syn pauses for a moment, taking the time t reach out and caress one of the steel chains hanging from the ceiling) So many vile, evil, gruesome, Unspeakable acts have been born here, and celebrated as they were executed. (He gives a sigh of content as he backs away from the chain) So many fools fell victim to my schemes in the most amusingly horrendous of ways…but that’s all in the past. I now look forward to the future. (Syn gives a disturbing smile as he looks into the camera) MY future.
Syn makes his way over to an empty seat away from the machines and sits down, his eyes on the wall ahead of him.
Syn: In Alternative Championship Wrestling, the possibilities for a mind as twisted as mine know no bounds. There won’t be any squeamish, over barring parents who complain about the excessive violence, or nervous sponsors who claim that they didn’t know what they were getting into. No, no in this promotion, violence in its extreme is the accepted norm. My first match is against someone who, like myself, has quickly accepted the freedom that the company promises: “Norse Thunder†Johan Johannson. (Syn shifts in the seat slightly, then opens his eyes and gives a dark smile) Johan , I don’t particularly know how much it is you know about me when it comes to what I’ve done and what I’ve accomplished in my short tenure so far, but I can assure you that I know a fair bit about you. Admittedly, I have fallowed your career as an MMA Fighter, and I’ve seen the damage that you are able to deal out in a moments notice.
Syn gives a grim chuckle as he crosses his legs, his focus now drawn back to the wall in front of him as if he's remembering something.
Syn: But I can handle it Johan. I can handle every single ounce of physical torture that you choose to dish out and deliver, simply because what you can attempt to do to me, someone has more than likely done worse. (Syn raises a hand and begins counting off) I've been sliced, slammed, thrown down a 25 foot body chute, (Syn apuses, then smiles in a very unpleasent way) and that was all just within a month of my debut. But i doubt that my words will mean anything to you, and you'll attempt to break me, only for me to stand back up and continue to charge you. And what will you do then, hmm? (Syn leans forward slightly in the chair) What will your response be when you find yourself against an opponent whom you can’t simply knock out, impale with a sword, or win by a ruling from an official? What happens then?
Syn stands up and walks over towards a seemingly blank wall, his hands clasps behind his back, before turning towards the camera and giving a diabolical smirk.
Syn: Johan, up until this point, you’ve been MMA’s Wildman, one of the most dominant competitors to set foot in the Octagon. But now, you’ve journeyed into MY domain, The Squared Circle, where a sinful mind and a willingness to throw caution to the wayside is in abundance. You claim there will be no remorse on your behalf, that you will ravage this industry like no other. In order to accomplish those goals, however, you must go. Through. Me.
Syn extends one of his hands and snaps his fingers, causing the wall behind him to erupt in flames. The fire spread and the camera zoomed out, and showed exactly what it was that the flames had formed: The letters “D.O.S†were now burning along the entire wall, with Syn standing in front of them, smiling very evilly.
Syn: Johan, the only thing that stopped me in the very first promotion I worked for, and every promotion since, was that they all had shut down, and even then I’ve made sure that I was in control until the very last moment. Nothing will stop me from doing the same in ACW, not even you. Welcome to the Age of Armageddon: There will BE no survivors.
Syn chuckled for a moment, before he let out an insane, high pitched laughter. The scene faded to black as Syn continued to laugh, standing just a few feet in front of the fiery letters as they blazed behind him.
