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03.15.06 Slainte
I: near Dublin, Ireland - a public
house
Fade up to a black screen,
momentarily anyway.
Laughter abounds, as do other sounds that go coursing through the
darkness in which you are watching.
Clattering glasses, the clinking of bottle caps hitting the floor.
Husky Irish voices belt out a classic drinking tune, "Whiskey in the
Jar."
You are of course in the midst of St. Patrick's Day celebration deep in
the heart of the Emerald Isle, not too far from St. James's Gate,
Dublin.
Fade up finally to live Technicolour. Shamrocks abound in the
land of the Irish on the most heralded day to honour their Patron
Saint. The beer flows freely out of the taps and couples and
friends exchange yarns both from long ago and recent.
Alcohol is an amazing provoker of thought and expression, no?
So it is for our man, the "Destroyer of Worlds," Avarice, who
contentedly sips away on a pint of his favourite Irish brew, Guinness
whilst leaning casually against a tall standing table without
seats. He's dressed as he stands - casually - in a light lime
green (but of course!) Christian Lacroix polo shirt and white
pants.
He seems fairly indifferent to all the uproarious merry making around
him. He's happy to just sit, sip, and watch the world go by, as
that same world drowns itself in pint after pint, bottle after bottle
of liquor.
He casts his eyes at a few
attractive young women who sit a stone's throw away. Eye candy
indeed, and he has his fill viewing their cleavage as they giggle about
this that and the other.
Avarice can only shake his head with a smirk as he downs a bit more of
his beverage before he notices the camera before him, filming away.
Had he not invited the camera along with him he'd almost have forgotten
he needs to spew some words of wisdom for the plebes of OLW, including
the most plebeian of them all, one "Outlaw" Jesse James.
But he has a lot of other fish to fry, so he collects his thoughts
before beginning.
He looks right into the camera lens, and smiles.
"Oh hello there. Happy
St. Patrick's Day to you all."
Original, no?
His English accent stands out a mile amongst a room full of Irish
revelers. Had this been two hundred years prior, or even a few
decades ago, he'd find himself beaten to a bloody pulp by angry Irish
nationalists. Thankfully times have changed.
"As you can see we've decided
to get away from it all, away from the hurley burley of Manhattan and
relax for a few days prior to 'Outrage,' to take in some of the Irish
countryside scenery and to enjoy a pint or two of Ireland's finest on
this most blessed of days. We hope you're all taking it easy,
sitting back and enjoying life before the next 'Outrage,' because it
might get a bit...messy."
"First we want to congratulate
the nine of you who saw it fit to teach us a damn good lesson to our
noble selves last time round, with that vicious [he gestures in
the air with a sweeping movement of his hand] nine-on-one assault. What
lesson did we learn?"
He ponders a moment before taking a sip.
"Damned if we know.
Perhaps, that it takes nine of you to even wear into the 'Evolution of
Essence?' Or perhaps that what we did to Dawn was so evil, so
maniacal, so - insane - that it just shocked and appalled you all to
the core of your very beings."
He tilts his head, evaluating what he just said.
"If it is the latter that is
the case, then mission accomplished. We want you to get to know
what your destined OLW Champion will be like once our tyranny
begins. Matters similar to the fate that befell poor Dawn will be
of common occurrence. Women or men, it matters not to us, all will be
equal opportunity victims under our regime. Sound awful?
Sound chauvinistic and boastful? Awful - we truly hope so.
Chauvinistic? No - we love our wife dearly and know she's no
inferior, especially when it comes to spending. Boastful?"
He gives a small hint of a smile, proving both his evil and superb
dentistry.
"'Tisn't boastful if it is
truth."
"Truth be told, for that
matter, we enjoyed last 'Outrage' immensely. Mr. Daeriq Damien
fought valiantly but was too ignorant and too unworthy to stand a
chance against us. Good try though lad, never give up your dreams
of continuing as a mid-card jobber. Perhaps someday you can be
the one who plays the entrance music."
A waitress walks by who gives Avarice the up-and-down look.
She'll be getting a good tip later.
"We must apologize, we really
don't want to come off as patronizing or arrogant, because we really do believe OLW is filled with a great
deal of talent - otherwise you wouldn't be gainfully employed.
However that doesn't mean that we cannot sit here and pick out all your
flaws - it just shows my affection for you all, and my willingness to
put you all out of your misery to that you may be happier, and even
better, happier and subservient. Now."
He ponders once more, using his Guinness as food (liquid food) for
thought.
"Ah of course. Daemon
Curtis, our noble foe in battle. We must apologize to you too
specifically for foiling your cane escapade last show. You're
quite a finicky devil with that bloody thing aren't you [he wags
a finger] - rather reminds us
of our former usage of our gold plated brass knuckles, but we outgrew
that toy, and have found a new one - namely that lovely barbed-wire
graced steel chair. We hope you two can meet someday soon - and
surely you will. Rumour has it that we will have the pleasure of
taking you on one-on-one someday. We both look forward to it, and
we'll be sure to give the chair a good scrub and clean - we want it to
look its best before we drive it into your skull a hundred, two
hundred, a thousand times until we send you into utter oblivion and
obscurity. And while you're at it, take the rest of Minority
Uprising with you too. Surely they'd be more useful scrubbing the
street or cleaning drains, because frankly they've not done you very
much good otherwise."
"Perhaps they could have taught
you basic conversational skills over our little dinner in Washington,
but the past is past, and we must look to the future, and to our reign
of terror. That particular juicy detail commenced last week with
Daeriq Damien. It shall continue unabated with Jesse James and
then conclude with you. That will be the end of phase one.
What will happen in phase two you might ask? You'll just have to
wait and see."
Avarice swills the end of his Guinness, looking rather disappointed at
his empty glass.
"Well doesn't this suck."
He gestures at the cute waitress who just passed him and whistles at
her, pointing to his empty glass.
"All this dispensing of wisdom
really makes one thirsty. As for you, Cole Christenson, we're
growing thirstier for your blood once more. We've seen it spilled
on a few occasions - once a few weeks ago, and then just recently,
thanks to a good chap named Kirk, who proved rather handy in your
sneaky ambush of our locker room last time out. We hope you
enjoyed the lavish decor of our locker room before you decided to
ambush us - clever tactic we might add, bravo [he claps twice] - but unfortunately you failed to
lock the door afterwards. Too bad you paid for your ignorance
with Kirk's insistence that you have a seat with that chair, followed
by our forcing you to sit via the 'Destroyer of Worlds.' And then
all those lockers came crashing down onto your frame - damned bloody
shoddy workmanship."
The Guinness arrives, much to his delight. He slips her a twenty
Euro note much to her pleasure. To his pleasure she walks away
shaking her cute assets.
He whets his whistle a bit more.
"Delightful. And ouch to
you Cole, sorry to mess up that pretty face of yours."
Silence.
"No, we're not sorry.
Never mind [he waves an arm in the air]."
"Now we come to you
child. You're going to go to school my good fellow, and no matter
what that crooked uncle of yours, Jack Lynch taught you - and by the way
[he leans slightly forward from the table] you ought to tell the old
bastard that he's lucky we didn't sue his ass off for not repaying that
$5 million dollar investment we gave to him back in CSWA - where were
we...ah. No matter what that bastard taught you, if he did
teach you anything while he was off avoiding the Federal Authorities,
it will not be enough, and it will never be enough to spare you the beating
you will rightfully get, you rebellious child. We hope you're
ready."
A bit more serious now.
"We hope the whole of OLW is
ready. Are you? Are you reflecting on your careers?
Your positions? Your destinies? Are you ready for Kirk, for
myself, for the Untouchables?"
He grins.
"Are we allying with
Kirk? Wait and see."
"Are we allying with the
Untouchables? Wait and see."
"Are we going to spare nobody
and spread terror and fear on an unprecedented level? Wait and
see."
"Are we going to destroy Daemon
Curtis and take his prize?"
He laughs as he raises the Guinness to his lips, and shrugs. He
wipes his lip with his hand, removing the trademark Guinness mustache.
"'Till then. And Jesse
James - we'll see you in the ring cowboy."
Avarice performs the trademark "bang bang" motion with his fingers
whilst mouthing those same words.
We fade to black.
Slainte.
I am become Death
The Destroyer
of Worlds
