Post by Hunter Storms on Aug 6, 2018 0:23:03 GMT -5
{Night time, no noise, no lights, pure silence in the woods. By this point, it’s been hours since the close of Showcase and why one of the poor cameramen has to make the trek out here into the darkness is beyond anyone’s thoughts. Even though it appears to be nothing but a black screen, the breathing coming from the tired man show as evidence of the camera being on and recording. Despite most of it being quiet, the only noise that serves the shot is the crunching footsteps of the cameraman himself as he feet snap twigs, crunch leaves, and whatever else that lies on the grassy floor of the forest. Stopping for a brief moment, the surrounding environment quickly becomes eerily quiet with only the intermittent noise of cicadas buzzing ever so faintly in the distance. From the left, rushed footsteps sound off, causing the camera’s attention to swivel over in a daze, the man’s breathing quickly becoming heavy as fearful thoughts race in his mind. In the shot itself, a dark figure rushes across, hiding behind another tree with its head peeking out slightly from its spot. The cameraman himself starts to back off in fright and just as he turns to run, the same rushed footsteps speed up to him and the man is easily knocked down to the ground with an ongoing struggle going on followed by a resounding thud that causes the man to shriek in pain. The camera itself, and its person are easily dragged over to a nearby tree, the man apparently propped against the base of the tree while the camera is forcefully shoved back into his hands. The figure from before crouches down in front, the person being fully visible.}
Voice: “That thing got night vision or what?”
{In a flash, the mode switches from normal to night vision, showing the crouched figure before the camera, the hood now pulled back to reveal Hunter Storms. The cut received at the hands of El Milagro is still visible on his forehead although it’s now healed close. In his right hand, it’s obvious that he’s still holding the small blade that he brought to the ring earlier. A wicked smile crosses his face upon taking notice of the cameraman looking at the blade.}
Hunter: “Well, what a surprise we’ve all had for the past week. The match against Caffrey on Tuesday, that pummeling from Milagro but don’t worry, if you all saw what transpired after that match, you will know I gladly returned the favor...with some help from my little friend here. Before I delve into all that, let’s just take a glimpse back on the company we know by the letters, G-W-A.”
{He twirls the blade a bit in his hand before passing it back and forth in his hands a bit as he continues to stare daggers into the lens.}
Hunter: “So much change has taken place at this godforsaken company over the course of how many years again? Six? Seven? Ah, who fucking cares. With all that change, this place has gotten worse and worse each passing year and the talent on the roster continues to dwindle. How does the Front Office expect a place to thrive with a roster that almost serves no purpose anymore? The entertainment we all witness today is nothing but utter crap. It’s nothing but shambles and the same fuckers season after season that sit their fat arses at the top expecting title shot after title shot to come their way. Pardon me gentlemen but I’m pretty sure you also need skill and a good list of who you’ve beaten in order to have a legitimate reason to challenge for any title here. Just because you beat Mr. X fifty times does not count as a real reason to challenge for the GWA World Title. How pathetic the standard and quality has become these days in God’s Wrestling Atrocity…”
{The cameraman appears to mumble something, garnering the attention of Storms who only shoots the man a questioning look before shaking his head at the thought of it, the blade still continuing to go back and forth between his hands.}
Storms: “Look, buddy, I could give a rat’s ass less what the name of this company is. Global Wrestling Alliance, Gradually Weakening Assholes, it’s whatever at this point. You’ve been here how long? Y’know, don’t even answer that because if you do...this will be going in your leg.”
{He holds up the blade clear as day in the shot, forcing the man behind it into a state of silence.}
Storms: “There, some peace. Where was I...oh yeah, GWA. Starting out after being dead for...a decade? Maybe more? Kinda wish it stayed dead but here we are now. This place used to be full of such prestige, class, quality, shit was amazing back then. You were guaranteed to witness a classic every Tuesday and Sunday but nowadays? Pfft, you’re lucky to see one once a month, let alone at a pay-per-view. Even with the company dropping the ball, it somehow keeps its head above water. How? Your guess is as good as mine Mr. Camera Guy...actually wait, what’s your badge read?”
{Storms leans forward, looking at what’s around the man’s neck.}
Storms: “...Brad. Well, Brad, don’t you think this place has gone under pretty far? Probably, right? I’m glad you’re another person who agrees with what some of us are also thinking in today’s day and age. You’re a smart man, why do you work for such a shit company? Anyway, what was I really supposed to be talking about? My mind trailed off…”
{He briefly looks down at the blade in his hand before snapping his fingers in realization.}
Storms: “Riiight...the change. Allow me to pull us back into the past when the GWA had its Resurrection. At the time, I was only twenty-three when this place got dug up from its grave and the Front Office contacted me asking if I wanted to take part. Being young and stupid at the time, I gladly said ‘Sure, I’ll sign on’ and signed my first wrestling contract. Amazing beginning, huh? Well, to me, it wasn’t all that great. Being in a place that had talent that was still in surprisingly good shape despite being past their physical primes, I got in on an adventure. I beat Mr. Sinister, Nick Blade, and LudiCris within my first four matches. Who did I lose to? Take a guess, most of you are familiar with him and hell, I’m somehow on his good side. Tick tick tick...zzzzt! Got an answer? If you guessed C--Rockshade, you are correct! Treat yourself to a fucking cookie, you nerd!”
{A sarcastic laugh emits from him, even slamming the blade into the ground right beside the man’s foot before he regains his composure.}
Storms: “Aha...but seriously if you guessed him, you’ve been spending how much time watching this product? Six, seven years was it? Who cares...that bastard is the bane of my existence and if he watches this, I could care less if he wants to break the team up. Cost us the belts in the end because of his dumb advice so thanks Rock...screwing me over once more like you always have…”
{Dropping down in a cross-legged sitting position, he lets out a sigh.}
Storms: “When I did start out, I had managed to reach the finals of the Showcase Tournament and almost became champion but some masked poser cost me that title. Yeah, I did win it eventually but hey, James Hill, 911, if you ever see this...fuck you. Working with you, even with guidance from Martin was hell on earth.”
{Grabbing the hilt of the blade, Storms drags it through the dirt before yanking it out and once more twirling it about in his hand.}
Storms: “After I had finally won that Showcase Championship, I felt like I was on my own Cloud Nine...at such a young age, I was a champion in a company that had some decent history behind it but I let it all get to my head. I argued, I berated, I screamed, and even at certain points I even broke down crying from the stress I was under to the point that I just left the place, telling myself over and over again, ‘Fuck that place, don’t ever go back.’ Even so...I returned after sifting through a few companies, except this time I was back as the man you all know me today. I was still the young, energetic man I was back then as Dynamo but I had newly found strength and put it to the test. I finished fourth in that season’s Riot and later on went to win three crucial matches in a row before losing to Faith but I made up for it with another three wins. Then the news came along with it…”
{He tilts his head back, staring up at the abyss resting in the sky.}
Storms: “I had been selected as the number one contender to face Brewer at Thunderdome for the World Title. It was an opportunity I had never really thought of seeing in my future at the time, let alone so soon upon making my return to the company. I was ecstatic and I wanted a boost of confidence going into said match by trying to win one, just one, match before having to prepare for my title bout against Brewer. I got my match...but it didn’t go the way I wanted it. I lost, humiliated with an ankle injury and not being a hundred percent for that match, I thought about giving that chance up in order to recover and potentially challenge for it again later when I was healed but someone changed my mind on it, someone who I still as a friend despite him not being part of the GWA anymore, and that was Idol Austin. He convinced to stay strong and go through with it, and I did. In the end, I won the title for the first time and I was happy once more but one month later, someone ruined it all...Rockshade…”
{The mention of the name forces a snarl from Storms.}
Storms: “After that, I went into a downward spiral. I lost faith in myself, became lost, depressed, it was just soul shattering. Something I had put effort into, got pulled out from under my feet and there I was back at square one after being humiliated once more. I’ll always hate him for that because of how miserable he’s made the place but enough about him already, this is about me and what I’ve become.”
{He brings his head back to where he’s staring back at the camera.}
Storms: “A few seasons back, I was maimed at the hands of Killer, my leg having been mangled by that pathetic bastard and once more I was at an impasse. Was it wise to come back yet another fucking time and hopefully my luck will turn? Or do I just leave right now because of my incredulous stupidity for even returning in the place? I thought by returning, the fans would still have some, even if it was the tiniest shred, respect for me and what I had done in years’ past. I was wrong. They didn’t care for me at all let alone acknowledge me except for the Front Office when I was getting my paychecks because hey, anyone’s allowed to wrestle here right? Do you want some easy money? Sign a contract and just don’t show up for the entirety of the season. They’ll deposit that money into your account no problem and you won’t hear them complaining because they think they’re expanding. That’s what they still think but we’re just trapped in their fantasy world, and it was very evident when I was recovering from injury. However, someone opened my eyes to the reality that we were in...Brewer. He guided me to what some would say the light but in this case, it was the darkness...something I embraced rather than resisted. Him, Dexter, and I...the three baddest motherfuckers looking for change became the Pain Syndikate after one eventful Spotlight and it’s something I still don’t regret.”
{A chuckle escapes his throat, his thoughts reminiscing on the memories of the past seasons.}
Storms: “Initially, I wasn’t sure if we would get anywhere but the moment we won those Tag Titles, it was pretty evident that if anyone wanted to fuck with us, they were in for a world of hurt. To think, we would go from a small group of wrestlers looking to make themselves feared in the company, we expanded into a large group with other people looking to make a change, and that’s how the Firestarters were created. Caffrey, Dexter, Brewer, Bulldog, Lio, and I...made history at the Cow Palace. Torching that ring was one of the best things we ever did and it felt like throwing a heavy weight off my chest. It was a relief for us and only added fuel to the fire of fear we were creating. No one could touch us after that despite all the hate. We showed people why we dominated, why were feared by all, why we fucking ran the place. Of course...all good things had to have an end to them, and unfortunately, that was the case. Slowly, we went out before we were nothing but embers. I was gone once more and I come back to this shambles of a company whereas stated before, is nothing but trash. Everything is just subpar, no one gives a fuck anymore...no one does…”
{He rubs at his eyes for a moment before resuming, the blade going back into yet another twirling sequence.}
Storms: “So Tuesday, I figured, ‘If I haven’t been giving a fuck about this place since Thunderdome why should I now?’ and what did I do to Caffrey this past Tuesday? Stabbed him in the leg several times before raking it across his fore--no, fivehead. Then tonight, I plunged that blade straight into Milagro’s leg and felt pure bliss upon hearing that scream of pain. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. It’s to the point where all I want to see is blood, whether it’s my opponent’s or my own, I don’t care. Tell me, Brad, do you care?”
{An audible bit of snoring is heard off-camera, causing Storms to furiously punch the man’s leg, easily waking the man who lets out a shriek of panic.}
Storms: “I’ll take all that snoring as a no from you, mister. I don’t give a fuck, you don’t give a fuck, no one gives a fuck. In order to make shit entertaining these days, we’re having to crack our own skulls open or cut one another in order to draw attention to ourselves. This was originally a good place but change has made everyone’s minds weak...even my own. That transformation...to go from energetic young gun to deranged veteran is one hell of a fall off a cliff. Have I hit rock bottom at this point? Some might say yes but who cares? Not like anyone will remember the shit I did here, to begin with…”
{Without so much as a second thought, Storms carefully pricks the top of his index finger on his free hand. Blood starts to ooze from the wound, quickly running down the length of the digit itself accompanied by a discontented sigh.}
Storms: “This is what I’ve fallen to. The madness of blood. Initially, I was one of the people to be squeamish at the side of this dark liquid but these days...I have no fear...no more fucks to give, it’s all DIY...something I plan to take full advantage of.”
{Standing up from his spot, he stares down Brad from up high, the blade still in hand.}
Storms: “I’m off to go see who my next victim is in the ring. Whether they want it or not, I will see them succumb to the madness just like I have and make them bleed like the pig they are. Hope they don’t mind me doing so...because blood is always a good price to pay someone as a means of justification.”
{Storms pulls his hood back up over his head before walking out of the shot. Brad’s heavy breathing returns as he remains at the base of the tree, completely unsure of what to do and also unsure of what just happened before him. Regardless, the night vision stays on before a sign of low battery appears on screen with the camera turning off shortly after.}
Voice: “That thing got night vision or what?”
{In a flash, the mode switches from normal to night vision, showing the crouched figure before the camera, the hood now pulled back to reveal Hunter Storms. The cut received at the hands of El Milagro is still visible on his forehead although it’s now healed close. In his right hand, it’s obvious that he’s still holding the small blade that he brought to the ring earlier. A wicked smile crosses his face upon taking notice of the cameraman looking at the blade.}
Hunter: “Well, what a surprise we’ve all had for the past week. The match against Caffrey on Tuesday, that pummeling from Milagro but don’t worry, if you all saw what transpired after that match, you will know I gladly returned the favor...with some help from my little friend here. Before I delve into all that, let’s just take a glimpse back on the company we know by the letters, G-W-A.”
{He twirls the blade a bit in his hand before passing it back and forth in his hands a bit as he continues to stare daggers into the lens.}
Hunter: “So much change has taken place at this godforsaken company over the course of how many years again? Six? Seven? Ah, who fucking cares. With all that change, this place has gotten worse and worse each passing year and the talent on the roster continues to dwindle. How does the Front Office expect a place to thrive with a roster that almost serves no purpose anymore? The entertainment we all witness today is nothing but utter crap. It’s nothing but shambles and the same fuckers season after season that sit their fat arses at the top expecting title shot after title shot to come their way. Pardon me gentlemen but I’m pretty sure you also need skill and a good list of who you’ve beaten in order to have a legitimate reason to challenge for any title here. Just because you beat Mr. X fifty times does not count as a real reason to challenge for the GWA World Title. How pathetic the standard and quality has become these days in God’s Wrestling Atrocity…”
{The cameraman appears to mumble something, garnering the attention of Storms who only shoots the man a questioning look before shaking his head at the thought of it, the blade still continuing to go back and forth between his hands.}
Storms: “Look, buddy, I could give a rat’s ass less what the name of this company is. Global Wrestling Alliance, Gradually Weakening Assholes, it’s whatever at this point. You’ve been here how long? Y’know, don’t even answer that because if you do...this will be going in your leg.”
{He holds up the blade clear as day in the shot, forcing the man behind it into a state of silence.}
Storms: “There, some peace. Where was I...oh yeah, GWA. Starting out after being dead for...a decade? Maybe more? Kinda wish it stayed dead but here we are now. This place used to be full of such prestige, class, quality, shit was amazing back then. You were guaranteed to witness a classic every Tuesday and Sunday but nowadays? Pfft, you’re lucky to see one once a month, let alone at a pay-per-view. Even with the company dropping the ball, it somehow keeps its head above water. How? Your guess is as good as mine Mr. Camera Guy...actually wait, what’s your badge read?”
{Storms leans forward, looking at what’s around the man’s neck.}
Storms: “...Brad. Well, Brad, don’t you think this place has gone under pretty far? Probably, right? I’m glad you’re another person who agrees with what some of us are also thinking in today’s day and age. You’re a smart man, why do you work for such a shit company? Anyway, what was I really supposed to be talking about? My mind trailed off…”
{He briefly looks down at the blade in his hand before snapping his fingers in realization.}
Storms: “Riiight...the change. Allow me to pull us back into the past when the GWA had its Resurrection. At the time, I was only twenty-three when this place got dug up from its grave and the Front Office contacted me asking if I wanted to take part. Being young and stupid at the time, I gladly said ‘Sure, I’ll sign on’ and signed my first wrestling contract. Amazing beginning, huh? Well, to me, it wasn’t all that great. Being in a place that had talent that was still in surprisingly good shape despite being past their physical primes, I got in on an adventure. I beat Mr. Sinister, Nick Blade, and LudiCris within my first four matches. Who did I lose to? Take a guess, most of you are familiar with him and hell, I’m somehow on his good side. Tick tick tick...zzzzt! Got an answer? If you guessed C--Rockshade, you are correct! Treat yourself to a fucking cookie, you nerd!”
{A sarcastic laugh emits from him, even slamming the blade into the ground right beside the man’s foot before he regains his composure.}
Storms: “Aha...but seriously if you guessed him, you’ve been spending how much time watching this product? Six, seven years was it? Who cares...that bastard is the bane of my existence and if he watches this, I could care less if he wants to break the team up. Cost us the belts in the end because of his dumb advice so thanks Rock...screwing me over once more like you always have…”
{Dropping down in a cross-legged sitting position, he lets out a sigh.}
Storms: “When I did start out, I had managed to reach the finals of the Showcase Tournament and almost became champion but some masked poser cost me that title. Yeah, I did win it eventually but hey, James Hill, 911, if you ever see this...fuck you. Working with you, even with guidance from Martin was hell on earth.”
{Grabbing the hilt of the blade, Storms drags it through the dirt before yanking it out and once more twirling it about in his hand.}
Storms: “After I had finally won that Showcase Championship, I felt like I was on my own Cloud Nine...at such a young age, I was a champion in a company that had some decent history behind it but I let it all get to my head. I argued, I berated, I screamed, and even at certain points I even broke down crying from the stress I was under to the point that I just left the place, telling myself over and over again, ‘Fuck that place, don’t ever go back.’ Even so...I returned after sifting through a few companies, except this time I was back as the man you all know me today. I was still the young, energetic man I was back then as Dynamo but I had newly found strength and put it to the test. I finished fourth in that season’s Riot and later on went to win three crucial matches in a row before losing to Faith but I made up for it with another three wins. Then the news came along with it…”
{He tilts his head back, staring up at the abyss resting in the sky.}
Storms: “I had been selected as the number one contender to face Brewer at Thunderdome for the World Title. It was an opportunity I had never really thought of seeing in my future at the time, let alone so soon upon making my return to the company. I was ecstatic and I wanted a boost of confidence going into said match by trying to win one, just one, match before having to prepare for my title bout against Brewer. I got my match...but it didn’t go the way I wanted it. I lost, humiliated with an ankle injury and not being a hundred percent for that match, I thought about giving that chance up in order to recover and potentially challenge for it again later when I was healed but someone changed my mind on it, someone who I still as a friend despite him not being part of the GWA anymore, and that was Idol Austin. He convinced to stay strong and go through with it, and I did. In the end, I won the title for the first time and I was happy once more but one month later, someone ruined it all...Rockshade…”
{The mention of the name forces a snarl from Storms.}
Storms: “After that, I went into a downward spiral. I lost faith in myself, became lost, depressed, it was just soul shattering. Something I had put effort into, got pulled out from under my feet and there I was back at square one after being humiliated once more. I’ll always hate him for that because of how miserable he’s made the place but enough about him already, this is about me and what I’ve become.”
{He brings his head back to where he’s staring back at the camera.}
Storms: “A few seasons back, I was maimed at the hands of Killer, my leg having been mangled by that pathetic bastard and once more I was at an impasse. Was it wise to come back yet another fucking time and hopefully my luck will turn? Or do I just leave right now because of my incredulous stupidity for even returning in the place? I thought by returning, the fans would still have some, even if it was the tiniest shred, respect for me and what I had done in years’ past. I was wrong. They didn’t care for me at all let alone acknowledge me except for the Front Office when I was getting my paychecks because hey, anyone’s allowed to wrestle here right? Do you want some easy money? Sign a contract and just don’t show up for the entirety of the season. They’ll deposit that money into your account no problem and you won’t hear them complaining because they think they’re expanding. That’s what they still think but we’re just trapped in their fantasy world, and it was very evident when I was recovering from injury. However, someone opened my eyes to the reality that we were in...Brewer. He guided me to what some would say the light but in this case, it was the darkness...something I embraced rather than resisted. Him, Dexter, and I...the three baddest motherfuckers looking for change became the Pain Syndikate after one eventful Spotlight and it’s something I still don’t regret.”
{A chuckle escapes his throat, his thoughts reminiscing on the memories of the past seasons.}
Storms: “Initially, I wasn’t sure if we would get anywhere but the moment we won those Tag Titles, it was pretty evident that if anyone wanted to fuck with us, they were in for a world of hurt. To think, we would go from a small group of wrestlers looking to make themselves feared in the company, we expanded into a large group with other people looking to make a change, and that’s how the Firestarters were created. Caffrey, Dexter, Brewer, Bulldog, Lio, and I...made history at the Cow Palace. Torching that ring was one of the best things we ever did and it felt like throwing a heavy weight off my chest. It was a relief for us and only added fuel to the fire of fear we were creating. No one could touch us after that despite all the hate. We showed people why we dominated, why were feared by all, why we fucking ran the place. Of course...all good things had to have an end to them, and unfortunately, that was the case. Slowly, we went out before we were nothing but embers. I was gone once more and I come back to this shambles of a company whereas stated before, is nothing but trash. Everything is just subpar, no one gives a fuck anymore...no one does…”
{He rubs at his eyes for a moment before resuming, the blade going back into yet another twirling sequence.}
Storms: “So Tuesday, I figured, ‘If I haven’t been giving a fuck about this place since Thunderdome why should I now?’ and what did I do to Caffrey this past Tuesday? Stabbed him in the leg several times before raking it across his fore--no, fivehead. Then tonight, I plunged that blade straight into Milagro’s leg and felt pure bliss upon hearing that scream of pain. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. It’s to the point where all I want to see is blood, whether it’s my opponent’s or my own, I don’t care. Tell me, Brad, do you care?”
{An audible bit of snoring is heard off-camera, causing Storms to furiously punch the man’s leg, easily waking the man who lets out a shriek of panic.}
Storms: “I’ll take all that snoring as a no from you, mister. I don’t give a fuck, you don’t give a fuck, no one gives a fuck. In order to make shit entertaining these days, we’re having to crack our own skulls open or cut one another in order to draw attention to ourselves. This was originally a good place but change has made everyone’s minds weak...even my own. That transformation...to go from energetic young gun to deranged veteran is one hell of a fall off a cliff. Have I hit rock bottom at this point? Some might say yes but who cares? Not like anyone will remember the shit I did here, to begin with…”
{Without so much as a second thought, Storms carefully pricks the top of his index finger on his free hand. Blood starts to ooze from the wound, quickly running down the length of the digit itself accompanied by a discontented sigh.}
Storms: “This is what I’ve fallen to. The madness of blood. Initially, I was one of the people to be squeamish at the side of this dark liquid but these days...I have no fear...no more fucks to give, it’s all DIY...something I plan to take full advantage of.”
{Standing up from his spot, he stares down Brad from up high, the blade still in hand.}
Storms: “I’m off to go see who my next victim is in the ring. Whether they want it or not, I will see them succumb to the madness just like I have and make them bleed like the pig they are. Hope they don’t mind me doing so...because blood is always a good price to pay someone as a means of justification.”
{Storms pulls his hood back up over his head before walking out of the shot. Brad’s heavy breathing returns as he remains at the base of the tree, completely unsure of what to do and also unsure of what just happened before him. Regardless, the night vision stays on before a sign of low battery appears on screen with the camera turning off shortly after.}