It has been the mecca for Catholics and devout believers in the Holy Trinity since construction began over St. Peter’s grave in 4th Century A.D. but it wasn’t established as the sovereign nation we know it as today until 1929. Though it’s light has radiated through the darkness in people’s lives during times of need, various incidents such as the mysterious death of Pope John Paul I, the accusations of former Jesuit and Head Exorcist Dr. Martin Malachi, as well as the pedophilia scandal have hung over the Church like a stormy cloud. These incomprehensible happenings are only a few examples as to why there is a suspicion amongst some that another force is at work, which had rooted itself deep inside of the Church since it’s inception, as if darkness was let through the gates and into the light to extinguish it from within.
With so many theories, stories and incidents that have gone unanswered throughout the institute’s history, the thought is we will never draw a conclusion on most because the Vatican itself has no higher power on this earthly realm that they answer to…or do they?
“Who opposes and exalts himself against every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God."– 2 Thessalonians 2:4
Erected in all of it’s Holy glory, the Vatican towers over St. Peter’s Square with the sky behind it resembling a canvas that’s just waiting for the artistic touch of a few brush strokes as there is not a single cloud to be seen. Since it’s Easter Sunday, people are scattered throughout the courtyard, as this day tends to be one of the busiest times for the Church. The Structure’s beautiful architecture is awe inspiring, even if from a distance, but it’s not enough to distract from a Cardinal of the Catholic Church moving frantically about the crowd as he does his best to evade contact with citizens, sticking out like a sore thumb with his red zucchetto, or skull cap, along with his all black clergy outfit that has a thin red trimming around it’s buttons and along the outside of his short cape.
Our perspective takes a sudden drastic turn as it moves southwards, rapidly through the pavement that so many feet walk upon and deep into the dirt revealing various rock formations, clay and even random bones scattered throughout with this whole process taking only but a few moments. As we pass by the last speck of dirt, something unexpected now lays before our eyes…a large, almost chamber-like room.
The room is massive but very dark, with only two areas in it that have light resonating; by the large, almost twenty foot high metal doors at the far end of the chamber which has various outer worldly beasts and ‘demons’ engraved throughout them, as if they are telling a tale in picture format but what really captivates the eyes is resting in the middle of the room; Nemesis sitting ever so casually on a massive throne of skulls befitting of a truly villainous King. This isn’t a chamber room at all but instead, a throne room.
The throne of skulls is quite the sight with it looking as if it’s molded to the ground or rose up out from it, as it seems to be made from the same type of grey stone the floor is. The base has faces of tortured souls littered amongst it with each face looking as if it is trying to escape. On the right and left sides of the throne are skulls stacked on top of one another forming in a straight line which extends a few feet up and then the stack of skulls moves inwards, all the way to the back rest creating an arm rest of skulls. From the middle of the base and all the way up the middle of the back rest is another row of skulls with the skull at the very top of the back rest being not only the biggest of them all but also the creepiest, as it leers directly ahead with it’s glowing amber eyes.
Nemesis leans back comfortably as Preacher stands to the left draped in his red clergy suit and though he has no cane in his grasp, his trademark smug smirk is pasted across his face. Nemesis is donning his usual outfit of a ritualistic headpiece and no shirt to reveal the evil markings that cover his torso up to his head. His black boots rest on the floor in front of him, while the Union Battleground Championship is sitting on his black jeans with the gold plate facing outwards. Both sets of Nemesis’ fingers are tapping along the forehead of a skull underneath each one of his corresponding hands in perfect rhythm. An aura of confidence emanates from the Champion.
“Somehow, someway, like the ever elusive cockroach, Flash Kassidy has been able to escape obliteration. The same way the cockroach had to evade extinction against the ice ages, Flash too has avoided being wiped off the face of this terrestrial plane by Salvation, albeit he had to risk his own life in doing so against Aiden Deimos but nevertheless, Flash once again was able to circumvent his own demise.”, An ever so slight snarl escapes Nemesis’ mouth causing his up lip to gently quiver for a split second
“But as perseverant as the cockroach is, it is still easily eradicated by the weight of a BOOT”, Nemesis stomps his right foot loudly onto the ground while escalating his tone but then quickly gathers his composure by settling back into his throne
“Like the lowly life form of insect you are Flash, you too will fatally yield to the pressure, in fact your chances of being victorious over me are poorer than your grammar and the red eyes you receive from this ‘session’ Flash won’t be due to an excessive amount of Sour Diesel or Master Kush that you have just partaken in, no, these red eyes will be caused by the blood vessels I explode and the blood I force to seep out through your tear ducts due to extreme blunt force to your hollow head and the trauma that comes along with it.”, The callousness of Nemesis’ words cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter causing Preacher to chuckle menacingly in anticipation
“We are not even a month removed from Axel and Finale ‘declaring’ war on Salvation and Graves’ choice for my first Title defense is some doped up dimwit? Have you heard this inferior mortal try to formulate a sentence? If that harlot Charlie truly cared about this fool, his success or his future, she would get him Rosetta Stone for the English Language instead of waiting on the corner for some dealer named Rosetta so the two of them can get stoned”, A scoff from Nemesis reverberates through the room showing the discontent he holds for his opponent and his vices
“But I ask you Flash, what are your intentions once the destiny you oh so ambitiously predicted after our match was announced goes up in smoke and you wake up the next morning not able to bear the sight of the loser standing before you in the mirror? What will you do when that Babylonian whore, Charlie, tosses you to the curb like the trash you are for some other overly zealous rookie that can facilitate her drug habit because she’s grown tiresome of being with an incoherent fool who can’t win ‘the big one’?” Nemesis finishes the question off by flashing a concerned look that oozes with sarcastic mannerisms before his demeanor quickly changes to that of a stern one
“When the final bell rings Flash and your dreams of being a Champion have been ashed out by the Ruler of the Battleground, only then will the true realization strike you like a freight train that I have taken away all of your purpose in life. You see, all of the ‘hype’ around you since your arrival has been based upon your conflict with Salvation, it’s been building for this moment and when you lose, not if, there will be no meaning left for you Flash, you won’t just become ‘yesterday’s news’ or another ‘what if’ story, instead you’ll just be like the thousands that have come and gone before you that no one talks about, another case of a ‘never was’” A devilish grin over takes Nemesis’ face implying he has utter confidence that the outcome of this match will be the downfall of Flash Kassidy
The screeching sound of metal along stone interrupts Nemesis causing him to break focus and shift his attention towards the two doors at the entrance of the throne room. Standing is the doorway is the same Cardinal seen earlier moving chaotically amongst the crowd in front of the Vatican.
“The lamb is ready my lord”, The Cardinal says with the utmost respectful tone towards Nemesis
Nemesis rises up to his feet and places the Union battleground Championship down onto the seat of his throne and begins walking towards the waiting Cardinal along with Preacher. They continue through the opened door and enter another massive room, though this one is well lit with torches along the rocky stonewalls and seems to be more cave-like. The Cardinal follows alongside as Nemesis and Preacher now begin to approach a large group of men who look to be of the Catholic order ranging from diocesan bishops, archbishops, patriarchs and so forth, totaling about fifty individuals. Nemesis is handed a knife that looks to have a beautiful crafted solid gold handle and a slightly curved blade, which is about twelve inches long. The circle separates to reveal a stunning sight;
Nemesis peers back over his shoulder with a sadistic grin. Fade to black.
Union Battleground Record: 10-1
Accolades: Union Battleground Champion [1x] Guerrilla Warfare Winner [1x]
Post by Dakota Smith on Apr 2, 2018 17:38:30 GMT -5
Arena di Verona, empty now - but in the coming days it would soon be filled by raging Union Underground fans. The sun was out, shining high in the sky at about it’s midday mark. The camera zooms into what seems to be the center on the open roofed, ancient Italian theater. Charlie Blooms posed on a long red velvet chaise - she was dressed in an eloquent white, medieval looking dress. Appearing as if she was Aphrodite herself with her beauty and stature. A few feet away stood Flash, a painting easel in front of him. He was doing Charlie’s portrait, but from the way the camera was positioned you couldn’t exactly see what the painting looked like. As always Flash had on his signature rounded shades, but his attire was a little more extravagant. A white gothic long sleeved shirt loosely hanging from his upper body, smeared in all different colors of paint. As well as a tight fitting pair of dark grey jeans adorning his lower half. Flash begins to speak, not looking directly into the camera instead keeping his focus split between the canvas in front of him and his lady in white a few feet away as he painted away.
“You gots to take time to appreciate the little things, ya know? The beauty in everything that is all around us. Verona is just to damn pretty of a place for us not to take a few moments out of our day to enjoy. Even while I gots my biggest challenge in front of me in just a few days. I gotta keep my head clear, I can’t overthink it. Because over thinkin’, getting inside yo head to much… That is the downfall of us all, know what i’m sayin’ Nemesis? Well, in all honestly yo’ punk ass prolly doesn’t. You seem to be the kinda guy who just obsesses over whatever little thought gets into his mind. And truthfully, that ish has worked out for you so far. You are an undefeated god-king, the Union Battleground champion! I may have called all yo’ little flying’ monkeys oogie-boogies. But you? You’re motha-fuckin’ skellator! The big baddie! The main attraction! And if that means I gots to be He-Man in order to defeats you? Well then let’s just say I got the power! Ya’ dig?”
Charlie can’t help but to grin as she starts to hear her man go off, Flash on the other hand was keenly focused on his portrait. Drops of paint flinging from the his brush, hitting his face which branded a cocky smile.
“ This has been a long time comin’ if you ask me. I was gonna use that Crown of the King Cobra to take yo ass on, but seeing how you sent your goons to fuck that up… It’s only make sense that I be gettin’ my shot now. See I’ve ran through every little ghoul and goblin you have on your roster of freaks. The exception being Viduus Morta, but the funny thing about that is. You needed to send Ragnarok down just to stop me from decimating your key player. You needed to try and make an example out of me, and you failed horribly in doing so. I says you did it, because you the leader! The leader of Salvation! You make all the shots do you not? You and that little preacher man of yours. You knew from day one that I was going to be a threat to your reign, that's why you screwed me over against Emery, that's why you thought it fit to take me outs the King Cobra tournament! Wells, looks like the joke is on you scary man. Because here I is! And on April sixth, I don’t care how many of your lackeys you send barreling down to the ring. Ain’t one of them walking Goosebump novels gonna’ be able to save the leader of Salvation! “
As the intensity in his words intensified, so did the strokes from his paintbrush. Flash’s tongue presses against the corner of his lips as he glances up at Charlie, pausing for a second just to really admire her beauty. Without Charlie, Flash wasn't sure he would have made it this far. She was his inspiration, in not only his artistic endeavors - but in life as well. After a few seconds he glances over to the camera, giving it a little chuckle before going back to his painting.
“I bet you was expecting some spectacular ish from me! Some big set up, where I compare you to a comic book villain, or some other fancy shit like I’ve done in the past. But the thing is… You got make believe covered enough for the both of us. The way you see yourself, the way you present who you is. It’s so fuckin’ showmanish that you’d think you was an actor in these halls some hundreds of years ago. It’s that stage presence that really gets you over, ya know? So it’s a bit Ironic that you’s going to be losing that belt in an arena made famous for its plays, for its fiction. It’s dramatic in its own way, it’s poetic. But you ain’t no Edgar Allen Poe, and i’m the one writing this verse. Union Battlegrounds deserves a better champion, one who doesn't need help from his goth club cliq to get the job done. Someone who doesn’t need to resort to tricks and villainy just to retain a championship! “
Flash’s strokes get more deliberate, he quickly removes his shades, tossing them to the ground without care. There was an intense, concentrated look in his eyes, his voice following suit.
“These fans deserve better, they deserve a fighting champo! Not some little bitch in facepaint thinking he’s going to be the saviour to us all. I’ve seen you go to war with the very best that Union has ta’ offer. I’ve seen you build this company basically on you back! I’m not takin’ away any credit from you, I know this will be my biggest battle to date! But like Da Vinci, I got blue prints for war going through my head, I can see the weaknesses in your design...Look...Listen, all i’m sayin’ is the ish you pulled in the past? It ain’t gonna work on me! Because i’m not just fightin’ for some belt, for some outdated belief system, some cause…. Nawh, I’m fighting for every single motha fucka sitting in the stands who has been kicked around before, every single man, women, or child who is sick of the group mentality of Salvation. Every member of the roster who has put they faith in me to be the one to take yo spooky ass out! Show the world that the god king can bleed, like my name Leonidas. At Lights out! I’m not walking out your new Union Battleground champion… I’m flyin’ out! And do you know why?”
Finally Flash sets down his paintbrush, he takes a step back and places his hand on his chin making sure he got every detail correct. He then looked up at Charlie and nodded, she grinned ear to ear - happy to be able to move. She stretches her arms over her head and cracks her neck a little bit before standing up from the chaise. She gracefully walks over to Flash’s side, her smile getting even brighter upon seeing the painting. “I love it.” She says, as Flash wraps his arm around her waist - using his other hand to grab the painting. He turns it around so the camera can see, and it’s almost a perfect replication. But one thing had been added, Charlie was had the Union Battleground championship laid out in front of her. And instead of a red hand print, a pot leaf was shown. Flash smirks as he looks up into the camera for the last time, the scene fading to black as he says his final words.
