- Joined
- Sep 29, 2010
- Messages
- 2,040
- Reaction score
- 54
- Points
- 48
- Age
- 34
- Location
- Virginia
- Website
- www.youtube.com
The scene opens with Heath Venomous located outside the cemetary gates, sitting on the ground with his back to the gate, his right arm extended as he holds the slender bottom of a wine glass between his fingers and sloshes the contents around in a circle, an act seemingly being performed to suppress rage. The liquid contained in the glass appears to be blood, as Heath doesn't even look at it, but past it instead, his sunglasses worn on his face as he looks out into the streets of the nearby neighborhood. The camera shoots him from the right side, as if it were being filmed by someone sitting beside him. Heath begins to speak.
Heath Venomous: Prosperity. A successful, flourishing, or thriving condition, especially in financial respects. That is what I have achieved thus far, prosperity. In a financial respect yes, but I don't require money like you mortals do, the fact that my life has no end and I will never be without it means my happiness or quality of life is not defined by currency. Even though you are already bound by time and your own mortality, you foolishly worship this object of your greed, adding a third master to the pack that already commands you, making your enslavement all the more miserable for you and all the more enjoyable for me. That is the state of prosperity I have arrived at, reaping the things you lose in defeat and claiming them as reward for my victory, victory you ignorantly measure in wins and losses. If you could see the bigger picture that I see, you would not measure it this way.
Heath rises to his feet and begins to walk forward, still holding the glass and turning it circularly in his hold, sloshing the contents about. He watches the ground as he walks, the sunglasses still on his face.
Imagine if you will that you are in competition with some friends. You are standing along the bank of a river and each of you throw a rock, with your overall goal being not to be the one that throws it the farthest, but to show that you have a strong throw. Well, you throw your rock further than a few of them, but are surpassed by the distance of others. However, they all notice the strength of your throw, therefore, you have succeeded in meeting your goal. Even though some of your friends defeated you in the competition, you have still won. I liken that to my ACW career. Even though I have a no contest and two losses on my record, I am still flourishing, I am still successful, I am still...in thriving condition. I will validate my point with examples from my own perspective as well as your human system of merit. Though defeated in the past, I am still victorious because here I am another week, still showing up to compete, still inspiring fear, and still inflicting pain. That, to me, equates to success.
On your scale, my point is validated by the fact that this upcoming contest that I am scheduled to participate in is to crown the next contender to the ACW International Championship, the same contendership that was up for grabs in the Battle Royal that was won by Nicky Trix, and the same championship that Nicky Trix will be competing for on the same night at the same event, Riot Act. The final two men eliminated from that battle royal now find themselves competing again, in a one-on-one encounter, for the same prize that went to war for with eight other superstars. It's only fitting if you ask me, and it is the strongest evidence you need that not only is my star on the rise despite my shortcomings, but that my star is one that cannot be halted. My bloodlust will continue until I have bled every contracted athlete dry, and my appetite for this blood will not be satiated until that task is complete.
Heath stops in place, removing the sunglasses from his face with his left hand, pushing the sunglasses from over his eyes up to the top of his head. As he continues with what he's saying, a slight increase in intensity can be sensed in his inflection.
Henri Calvash and Billy Young, men I eliminated from the battle royal, are now gone. Alex Styles, the man I brought unconscious from the backstage several weeks ago, a man that remained unconscious for the entire triple threat between he, Andrew Sanders, and I, is now gone. Zasalamel, a man that tried to dispose of me on my first night in the company, the man I nearly eliminated from the battle royal, is also...no longer...here. You are next in line, Abram, and if you do not meet the same fate as they, I promise you that you will meet a similar one. Because, you see, you and I have different mindsets going into this contest, we want different things out of this event.
You distract yourself with cancerous and liver damaging addictions, and the only driving force behind you even showing up to do your job seems to be the paycheck. You are the embodiment of what I spoke of earlier, a foolish human that has allowed something perishable become his master. You want to become the man that will challenge for the International Championship because doing so and becoming the champion would result in a larger paycheck, but to do that you must go through me, something that will be near impossible for you to do. Under normal conditions, I already exceed you in dexterity, endurance, flexibility, stamina, strength, and strategy. My senses are sharper and more heightened than yours, I can do things you simply cannot do. Why are all these things true? Because you and I are not the same.
But when you factor in your state of apathy, the difference is greater, and I exceed you on a much greater scale than I do when you're in top form. In addition, I am not focused on winning contenderships or championship belts, the only thing beneficial about that is it would bring me more victims at a quicker rate. So if I win the contendership and later the belt, I will enjoy the perks that come with it and capitalize on the situation as it pertains to my mission. If I lose and do not claim the championship, I will press on, as there is more than one way to overall completion. Bearing all this in mind, realize that your participation in this match is an act of suicide. Should you go through with this, you'd be wise to eulogize yourself under your breath while the match is going on, because that's the only chance Abram Vance will get at one!
Heath throws the glass to the ground, it shattering on impact and the contents shattering, some splattering on the toe of his left boot. Heath is visibly more intense as he points at the camera with the hand that was just holding the glass.
There will be nothing left of you to place inside a casket or a furnace, whichever is your preferred treatment of your corpse post-expiration, I will see to that. What the coroners will recount of what was done to you will mortify all who hear it to the point that there will be no memorial service, there will be no obituary, there will be no grave, and none of these people will spend a moment of their time mourning, not a single tear will be shed. Not because you lack friends and loved ones, but because they're afraid that if they show grief, I will sense their attachment to you, and dispose of them as well, as a means to torture you eternally once you cross to the other side!
Heath turns and walks back over to the gate, sitting back down and pushing his sunglasses back on his face. The camera returns to shooting him as if someone were sitting right beside him as Heath looks out into the neighborhood streets again. His inflection returns to what it was before, as he has eerily resumed his calm state as if he never departed from it.
I am unlike anything you have ever, and will ever, encounter, Abram. I have no remorse, I have no compassion, because, and I repeat this for all who have yet to grasp the gravity of the situation, I belong to a different breed. I am the subject matter of legend, the topic of myth, the reason that fear itself exists. I do not love, I do not sparkle, I do not feel anything for you humans but pity and disgust. None of the things that have done the other vampires in affect me in a harmful way, because I have learned from their mistakes, and I have adapted to it. I am not coming to Riot Act to wrestle, and I will not be there to fight. I am coming...to feast.
The camera pans out as Heath stands up again, beginning to walk towards the neighborhood he has so intently been watching.
Heath Venomous: Prosperity. A successful, flourishing, or thriving condition, especially in financial respects. That is what I have achieved thus far, prosperity. In a financial respect yes, but I don't require money like you mortals do, the fact that my life has no end and I will never be without it means my happiness or quality of life is not defined by currency. Even though you are already bound by time and your own mortality, you foolishly worship this object of your greed, adding a third master to the pack that already commands you, making your enslavement all the more miserable for you and all the more enjoyable for me. That is the state of prosperity I have arrived at, reaping the things you lose in defeat and claiming them as reward for my victory, victory you ignorantly measure in wins and losses. If you could see the bigger picture that I see, you would not measure it this way.
Heath rises to his feet and begins to walk forward, still holding the glass and turning it circularly in his hold, sloshing the contents about. He watches the ground as he walks, the sunglasses still on his face.
Imagine if you will that you are in competition with some friends. You are standing along the bank of a river and each of you throw a rock, with your overall goal being not to be the one that throws it the farthest, but to show that you have a strong throw. Well, you throw your rock further than a few of them, but are surpassed by the distance of others. However, they all notice the strength of your throw, therefore, you have succeeded in meeting your goal. Even though some of your friends defeated you in the competition, you have still won. I liken that to my ACW career. Even though I have a no contest and two losses on my record, I am still flourishing, I am still successful, I am still...in thriving condition. I will validate my point with examples from my own perspective as well as your human system of merit. Though defeated in the past, I am still victorious because here I am another week, still showing up to compete, still inspiring fear, and still inflicting pain. That, to me, equates to success.
On your scale, my point is validated by the fact that this upcoming contest that I am scheduled to participate in is to crown the next contender to the ACW International Championship, the same contendership that was up for grabs in the Battle Royal that was won by Nicky Trix, and the same championship that Nicky Trix will be competing for on the same night at the same event, Riot Act. The final two men eliminated from that battle royal now find themselves competing again, in a one-on-one encounter, for the same prize that went to war for with eight other superstars. It's only fitting if you ask me, and it is the strongest evidence you need that not only is my star on the rise despite my shortcomings, but that my star is one that cannot be halted. My bloodlust will continue until I have bled every contracted athlete dry, and my appetite for this blood will not be satiated until that task is complete.
Heath stops in place, removing the sunglasses from his face with his left hand, pushing the sunglasses from over his eyes up to the top of his head. As he continues with what he's saying, a slight increase in intensity can be sensed in his inflection.
Henri Calvash and Billy Young, men I eliminated from the battle royal, are now gone. Alex Styles, the man I brought unconscious from the backstage several weeks ago, a man that remained unconscious for the entire triple threat between he, Andrew Sanders, and I, is now gone. Zasalamel, a man that tried to dispose of me on my first night in the company, the man I nearly eliminated from the battle royal, is also...no longer...here. You are next in line, Abram, and if you do not meet the same fate as they, I promise you that you will meet a similar one. Because, you see, you and I have different mindsets going into this contest, we want different things out of this event.
You distract yourself with cancerous and liver damaging addictions, and the only driving force behind you even showing up to do your job seems to be the paycheck. You are the embodiment of what I spoke of earlier, a foolish human that has allowed something perishable become his master. You want to become the man that will challenge for the International Championship because doing so and becoming the champion would result in a larger paycheck, but to do that you must go through me, something that will be near impossible for you to do. Under normal conditions, I already exceed you in dexterity, endurance, flexibility, stamina, strength, and strategy. My senses are sharper and more heightened than yours, I can do things you simply cannot do. Why are all these things true? Because you and I are not the same.
But when you factor in your state of apathy, the difference is greater, and I exceed you on a much greater scale than I do when you're in top form. In addition, I am not focused on winning contenderships or championship belts, the only thing beneficial about that is it would bring me more victims at a quicker rate. So if I win the contendership and later the belt, I will enjoy the perks that come with it and capitalize on the situation as it pertains to my mission. If I lose and do not claim the championship, I will press on, as there is more than one way to overall completion. Bearing all this in mind, realize that your participation in this match is an act of suicide. Should you go through with this, you'd be wise to eulogize yourself under your breath while the match is going on, because that's the only chance Abram Vance will get at one!
Heath throws the glass to the ground, it shattering on impact and the contents shattering, some splattering on the toe of his left boot. Heath is visibly more intense as he points at the camera with the hand that was just holding the glass.
There will be nothing left of you to place inside a casket or a furnace, whichever is your preferred treatment of your corpse post-expiration, I will see to that. What the coroners will recount of what was done to you will mortify all who hear it to the point that there will be no memorial service, there will be no obituary, there will be no grave, and none of these people will spend a moment of their time mourning, not a single tear will be shed. Not because you lack friends and loved ones, but because they're afraid that if they show grief, I will sense their attachment to you, and dispose of them as well, as a means to torture you eternally once you cross to the other side!
Heath turns and walks back over to the gate, sitting back down and pushing his sunglasses back on his face. The camera returns to shooting him as if someone were sitting right beside him as Heath looks out into the neighborhood streets again. His inflection returns to what it was before, as he has eerily resumed his calm state as if he never departed from it.
I am unlike anything you have ever, and will ever, encounter, Abram. I have no remorse, I have no compassion, because, and I repeat this for all who have yet to grasp the gravity of the situation, I belong to a different breed. I am the subject matter of legend, the topic of myth, the reason that fear itself exists. I do not love, I do not sparkle, I do not feel anything for you humans but pity and disgust. None of the things that have done the other vampires in affect me in a harmful way, because I have learned from their mistakes, and I have adapted to it. I am not coming to Riot Act to wrestle, and I will not be there to fight. I am coming...to feast.
The camera pans out as Heath stands up again, beginning to walk towards the neighborhood he has so intently been watching.