Hard Fade in to Final Notice….
[Having raised back up to his feet to salute
the crowd with hammer and nail in hands he suddenly dropped back down to his
knees, straddling her chest, and pounded the first nail home - splattering her
blood across his face and chest. Even from the recesses of unconsciousness the
pain is intense enough that Wild Chyld is immediately awake. Like a enraged
animal she starts clawing at Protean's face even as blood flows from her
wrist.]
[The arena had started to quiet the moment Protean
drove the first nail home. It grows even stiller yet as he raises back
up, and placing her arm back on the cross grabs up another nail and drives it
home.]
!CRUNCH-THUD!
[With the arena so quiet we pick up the sound
of the nail pushing through her wrist. This time however Ai Mei doesn't rouse
from this new sleep quiet as violently as she did last time. This time her eyes
just kind of flutter and she grimaces in pain. Sliding down her body, to her
feet, Protean goes about removing her boots. With her footwear off he places
one foot over the other, readies the nail, and then looks out to the crowd.]
!CRUNCH-THUD!
[We hear again as a smiling Protean drives
the last nail home without looking down at it. Standing then he lets the mallet
drop to the canvas and signals to the rafters for them to lower the chains.
Slowly they start to descend.]
[The chains reach Protean and he carefully
secures them to the cross. Then gently resting the barbwire crown upon her head
he looks up to the rafters and holds up a thumb. Slowly a crucified Wild Chyld
starts to raise up from the canvas. Blood continues to pour down from her
wounds to splash upon the canvas - a pool forming beneath her. Ai Mei's head
hangs limply from her neck her face down and further obscured by blood and
hair. The crucifix stops with a slight jolt...]
!DING-DING!
[There is silence after the bell, and even
when a horrified Joel starts to announce the winner it's in a very tired and
quiet voice...]
Joel Cronus: "The winner and new HiC Champion’s Choice
Champion... Protean..."
As those words echo, we watch as the
scene becomes smaller and we pull out enough to see this has taken place on a
television, inside the offices of the Sommers Gym, and standing by the TV, one
hand on top, and a remote in the other.. Michael Sommers glares down at the
screen… his eyes mere slits, his long hair strewn over his face. He angrily clicks off the remote and drops it
on the desk.
“Listen close, Protean.. listen extremely close…. “
Rubbing his left fist with his right hand,
he seeks to control himself so he may conduct this interview calmly.
“I am no friend of Wild Chyld… but the atrocity of
what you have done… both in terms of violence against a young woman, and the
sacrilege against Christ for your insolent actions, is completely unexcusable! Jesus
died on the cross for all our sins, but the sin you have committed can never be
forgiven.”
Taking a deep breath, he continues to
subdue the tension in his body…
“I chose a new direction because I firmly believed
in the art of wrestling, the technical aspects that makes this sport one of the
most exciting and wondrous choices any man can make… but what you have done….”
Michael can’t finish, his rage.. the
ire in his voice causes him to stumble.. and he turns away, his fists clenched
as he tries so very hard to calm himself.
He turns back, moments later….
“It was one thing to take my brother out of the HiC,
by holding the ropes away… he put himself into that position… but Protean, you
went way too far… you did what could only be gotten away with in the AOWF… a
place where control does not exist.. where honor, truth and honesty are buried
along with the foes of their past.”
Shifting his hair away from his face,
Michael spins on his heels and walks out of the office, we follow close behind
as he heads towards the ring. He scoffs.
“I bet that if the M.o.A. were to resurface in any
suitable form, they would have a prime member in the likes of you… for
crucification seems to be a corner stone of their repertoire.”
Reaching the ring, he looks up into
it, and then back to us.
“I had every intention of giving you a few lessons
in wrestling this coming Thursday… to show you what it means to be a veteran of
this business… to feel first hand what it will be like to be twisted and pulled
in a dozen directions by a master of the ring… “
Shaking his head, he turns away from
the ring, and strides over to the front of the gym, looking out the glass front
windows, to the darkend street outside.
“However, now.. I fear that all you will learn is how
to be beaten down, broken apart and left for ruin in the center of that very
ring…. For since you love the sight of blood so much, Protean… let’s spread as
much of yours around as we possibly can… tendons, sinew, bones and teeth… all
the parts that make up the lesser of a man that you are… needs to be prostrated
so the world can see that inside, there is no soul….”
Slowly he turns to face us, his hair
having fallen back over his face.. a visage of the past shown to us as the
lights seem to fade all their own.
“No soul that the Soul-taker could have taken to
begin with… no prize save the hollow shell of a thing that only the demons of
hell would welcome among them… I thank you for one thing.. the motivation
needed to determine your fate for you… “
A slow smile plays over his features,
as if the mere thought of Thursday leaves a sweet taste on his tongue.
“Be thankful that your ‘Champion’s Choice Title’ is
not on the line… for it would become one of the shortest reigns the HiC has
ever seen… even less then the week Brian Mitchell was Tempest Champion…. But
when it’s over and you’re left for dead… let the visage that is Wild Chyld burn
your corneas out of your very skull.. because I promise to you… her soul,
shining far greater then yours could ever hope to touch… will visit it’s light
down upon you and leave you blind… so that all that is left… will be the memory
of the evil you caused…”
The lights fade even further, so that
we have to move closer to his face, and the whites of his eyes begin to fill
the screen..
“…and the suffering you have yet to feel…. This Thursday, you will be educated… “
And we fade to black, his eyes the
last thing we see, and his voice, the last thing we hear:
“Class Dismissed.”