The scene opens a few miles south of Soledad; the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilian Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees-Willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter�s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of �coons, and with the spread of pads of dogs from the ranches, that existed during the Great Depression, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark.
There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by people who once came down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps that came wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamore there is a large circle where people had once made fires to stay warm during the night.
Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as kittle gray, sculptured stones. And then from the direction of the now abandoned highway came the sound of footsteps on crisp sycamore leaves. The rabbits hurried noisily for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. For a moment the place was lifeless, and then two men emerged.
The first man�s trench coat moved with the flow of the wind. His white-ruffled poet shirt seemed to almost be symbiotic with the environment. His black pleather pants stood out like a soar thumb however. His strong and yet worn facial features spoke volumes. A man of smaller stature and talk show host facial features followed close behind him.
The smaller man began hooking mini-mikes on both himself and the now well-recognized EFW World Champion, Sickle
Man: Now when I asked if I could interview you, you told me that I would only be able to conduct an interview with you if I came out to this distinct location. So I must ask why? I mean what is so unique about this pacific location?
: Well I chose this location to make a point. You see John Steinbeck used this part of the area in one of his more read novels �Of Mice and Men�. Steinbeck much like me earned everything he ever got, and he stuck to what he knew. He wrote about this area because he was born and raised in this area.
Interviewer: Now that that has been answered I have to ask what do you think of this Jack Hammer?
: You mean Jackoff? I see he failed to address the war that is coming. Everyone seems to think that this war will not effect them but in actuality it will split the EFW in two.
Interviewer: What is your comments regarding this Maleficus?
: There is not much too say. Like you I am still very much in the dark on that situation.
Interviewer: Now onto a matter on everyone�s mind. You are currently undefeated since your Lucid Nightmare reign as Hardcore champion and remain undefeated as the EFW World Champion. The new commissioner Jack Hammer has put you in a match against the highly popular Ryan Fulway. What are your thoughts on your upcoming match? Fulway has had some very interesting things to say in regards to the match between the two of you.
: I would like to start out by saying that I appreciate the fans just as much as you do Fulway, and what you have come out and said is respectable. After all who doesn't want to win the gold? Who doesn't want to get into the ring with me?
Now, will we have one hell of a match? You better believe it! Will I be victorious? More than likely. I have never said that Fulway could not win this match, I merely said that Fulway would not win this match. Fulway you say you have something to prove? Good for you then I say. But I will be victorious come the night of Wendsday. This is about more than gold to me Fulway. I admire what you are doing, and out of shere curiousity, under different circumstances I would probably give it to you just to see how you do. However, there is a war going on right now. Part one of this war will be to recruit. The key to recruiting is the gold. The key to ending it lies in holding the gold. Under no circumstances will I allow the title to leave me, not during this war.
Draven would never interfere in a match Fulway and you should know that. The only way Draven would interfere is if Commissioner Jackingoff decided to send some goons to jump me. Which I have no doubt he will try something come Shockwave.
Now what I am about to say is for those who think they understand me, a little enlightenment
Now isn�t in the world of Goth God the enemy, not exactly. There are some known as Devil Bunnies who think that Satan is cool but yet do not worship him, then you have the Wiccans who believe in a balance in the world, then YES you have the Christians. There are Christian Goths in the world today and that is a common misperception by a lot of people. Oh I almost forgot you also have those who are atheist. Now as far as believing in vampires and ghosts, that has nothing to do with a) our match and b)any religion unless you are a cultist. Now ghosts are real but that is something that is to be debated not argued. Now that I have gotten that off of my chest I will get back to the issue at hand
Now Fulway, you had a really good promotion going there right up until the end where you believe you will not be stopped. Not only will you be stopped Fulway, but you will have the quote unquote winds of change knocked out of you. Bruce claimed he could not be stopped. Hawk claimed he could be stopped, but he was smart and determined, much like you say now. Joey Sanders claimed that he too had something to prove. Sanders in my opinion proved that he is definetely the future of EFW, but the future only occurs when the present is stopped, and unfortunately for EFW it does not look like there are many that posses that much potential. I see a lot of up and coming stars in the EFW but none of them have really have reached there peak like I have.
Now I am the Armeggedon, I am the �dark icon� and I am the bringer of damnation. I am the dark icon because I show ignorant white suburb boys like you the true deadliness of people like me. You will learn like everyone else before you as to why you do not take ME lightly. You can stand out here and make fun of my group, make fun of my lifestyle, make fun of my past, but it will still not mean a thing when you get in the ring. When the darkness comes, when you step into that ring with me, there is no more talk. There is no more trying to prove that you do not underestimate me or fear me. There is no more video's to watch. There will only be you and me and there will be no stopping me from tearing you limb form limb. There will be no more name calling, no more talks of fear. There will only be two men standing eye to eye in the center of the squared circle with almost free roam to do whatever they want to each other.
Now for some more poetry:
Hear the sledges with the bells - Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells - Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! - From the molten - golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! - how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells Hear the loud alarum bells - Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now - now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale - faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - Of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells - In the clamor and the clanging of the bells! Hear the tolling of the bells - Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people - They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone - They are neither man nor woman - They are neither brute nor human - They are Ghouls: - And their king it is who tolls: - And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells: - Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells: - To the sobbing of the bells: - Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells - To the tolling of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells, - To the moaning and the groaning of the bells
Some interesting poetry eh? Edgar Allen Poe was a brilliant, and yet much like me, disturbed man. He wrote the bells on slightly before he died. This is something that I thought Fulway would appreciate. Since clearly it is his death bed that he wishes to lie in. To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting and I will never stop fighting. I will continue to be who I am although the mainstream fan loving bitches want to try and hate me. Fulway, you have faced many a things here in the EFW but your greatest and most imposssible challenge will be to beat me! Do you truly think for some odd reason that you could have any possible hope of beating me!? I will make you BLEED! I will rip your fucking spinal chord out of your back and shove it up your FUCKING ass! Is it something personal? NO, its nothing personal. I will have mercy for no one anymore. I have had enough! Anyone is dumb enough to step into the ring with me is going to get their FUCKING ASS kicked and that is the only point here. Come this Wendsday Fulway, you are going to SCREAM for me! I will not sleep with ease until I have heard you scream, in pain, and in fear. Fear for what you say?.....Fear for your LIFE! And after I have won and retained my title, and the adrenaline has stopped pumping I will extend my hand to help you back up because I respect those who respect me but do not confuse respect for mercy. Oh and Fulway I am the shadow on the moon at night filling your dreams to the brim with fright
The scene fades out with Sickle reading a BIBLE under the moonlight.