Post by Kaven Drell on Feb 19, 2019 23:13:51 GMT -5
"Shall we play a game, friend?”
The sound of Kaven Drell’s voice cuts through silence and darkness a half of a moment before our scene suddenly bursts to life. Before our eyes a carousel begins to rotate slowly on its axis, painted horses shifting up and down at a similarly lethargic pace while stereotypical carnival music echoes throughout the empty warehouse that it had been stored in. An instant later the bald headed, bearded figure that the Union Battleground audience has come to know as Kaven Drell hops up onto the side of the carousel and cackles gleefully as he rotates with the machine out of sight. The music begins to play and a few moments later Drell comes back into sight, his voice raising as he shouts his message to his opponent.
“I wonder if you’ve been paying attention, my painted pretty. Have you been watching closely?”
Once more Drell disappears with the rotation of the horses in a never ending circle, leaving the audience hanging on to see what was coming next. Never one to disappoint, while out of sight Drell had shifted himself up onto the back of one of the horses, clinging tightly to the faded gold pole that the horse was shifting upward and downward upon.
“Do you like horses, friend? Do they make you smile?”
It’s clear that he’s having fun with the little game that he’s playing but as he rotates around once more the music fades and the ride slows to a halt just as he comes back into camera sight once more. Still, he remains seated upon the back of the carousel horse he had climbed upon as he prepares to fully engage with his aptly named opponent, Karnival.
“I saw what you did to Phantom. Ohhhhh you naughty boy. I bet you had so much fun, didn’t you? I bet it brought a smile to your face, didn’t it? But I wonder what happens when you meet someone who loves chaos as much as you do. Will the smile fade? Is it as easy as merely wiping the paint away to reveal what truly lies underneath?”
Unhinged laughter ripples through the once more relatively quiet warehouse. The lights of the carousel still blink and dance, designed to draw attention to the ride that Drell was using as his own means of entertainment for the time being.
“You see. You see. You see, friend. I have no need for paint. No need for hiding who I am beneath a mask. I’m not afraid of who I am, or what I am, or what my purpose is. I’ve come to Union Battleground to upend the status quo. I’ve come to help those who have become stagnant rediscover themselves. And, you see, you can’t do that merely by being nice. No no. You have to take something from them. Something precious. Something they’re attached to. Something they’ve grown to love. For Elena Dedraca, it was the War Horse Championship that now belongs to me. For Michael Kelly, it was the whole facade he had built for himself. With both of them I took what they loved and burned it to the ground. I took what they clung to so desperately and ripped it from their grasp. Not because I wanted to… but because they needed me to. And you know why the fans at home see me do this to the one’s that they love so dearly and still scream from the top of their lungs KILL. DRELL. KILL? Because they know what I’m doing needs to be done too.”
Slinging one leg over the porcelain figure he had been mounted upon, Kaven’s feet hit the steel floor hard, a loud clang rattling throughout the building before he hopped down off of the ride and closed in on the camera, tapping his head as he did so.
“They’re tired of the platitudes. They’re tired of the gimmicks. They’re tired of everything they see being fake. You think they can’t see through all of the nonsense. You think they can’t see right through the paint? They’re just like me, and they see through it all. They see me as the one entity in this company that is real. They listen to me and hear the truth in my words. They watch me and witness the fulfillment of every single promise I make to them. From the start this has never been about victories and defeats. It’s never been about championships. About accolades. About glory or fame. It has been about destruction. I am mother nature’s reset button. A plague designed to wipe the filth and corruption and bullshit away, and give the world a fresh start.”
Reaching out with his hand he grabbed onto the camera that was focused on him and jerked it in his direction. For a moment the scene was jumbled as the person holding the camera lost his balance briefly, causing the lens to tilt downward and then be yanked upward suddenly by Drell, who leaned in so that the whole frame was focused entirely upon his face.
“It’s unfortunate for you that you came to this place seeking to find stability. It’s a shame that you came seeking normalcy in the one place that I call home. What you’re searching for is not here, and at Crown of the King Cobra, you will experience what it means to step into the ring with the War Horse himself. I am not a phantom. I am not some illusion. I am nothing more, and nothing less, than absolute disaster waiting for you to step into my grasp. So I ask you again, friend, shall we play a game? There’s still time. Still time for you to turn back. Still time for you to walk away. Still time for you to find another place to set up your little tent and find peace of mind. But if you remain here, friend, there’s nothing but bad news waiting for you.”
Heavy breaths cause the lens to fog up for a moment before fading and revealing that Drell had taken a few steps back and then folded his legs underneath him and dropped his weight down so that he was seated in an indian style position.
“Because when you step into the ring with me, you leave me with no other choice than to take what is most important to you. And I promise you by the time that I am done with you. By the time that I am done beating you. And breaking you. And mauling you. And maiming you. There will be nothing left of that pretty little painted smile. I need you to think about that. To consider that strongly before you leave me with no other choice. Until that moment when you decide to walk to the ring, and climb between the ropes, there is time. More time that I gave Elena. More time than I gave Michael. Don’t be so foolish as to waste the opportunity that I’m giving you, my friend.”
Extending his arms out so that they are parallel to the ground, Drell gestures back toward the ride behind him.
“Everyone loves a carnival so long as the lights are flashing, and the music is playing. Laughter and joy and glee can be heard far and wide when the carnival comes to town. Children come and watch with eyes wide, amazed and the oddities and unusual things that they’re seeing. But that wonder, and that joy, and that glee? What happens when the lights stop flashing, and the music stops playing? The laughter and the joy fades, doesn’t it? And what was once one of the happiest places on earth? It goes back to being nothing. Back to irrelevance. Just..”
Kaven lowers his left arm and brings his right arm forward, his middle finger and thumb bending so that the tips are touching each other.
“Like..”
A wicked smile forms on his own face once more, his eyes alight with knowledge of what is to come and everything that he has planned. Part of him continues to hope that Karnivall will, indeed, make the journey to the ring at Crown of the King Cobra if for no other reason than for the fun that he knows he would have breaking the man down.
“That.”
On the word “that,” Drell snaps his fingers and the lights on the carousel go suddenly dark, dropping the whole scene into the heavy pitch black that Drell is so familiar with. Long, eerie momemts pass before the whispered voice of Kaven Drell seems to echo inside the minds of every single person watching on their television screens.
“I will pull the plug, friend. I will make the lights and the music stop. I will wipe the smile from your face. And in the silence. In the darkness. You will be trampled by the War Horse while the hordes of formerly smiling, gleeful faces chant for me to KILL. DRELL. KILL.”
