Post by Viduus Morta on Jun 26, 2018 15:34:51 GMT -5
The Roman Empire was one of the greatest empires the history of the world has ever seen. The Romans had a unique ability to conquer and defend their conquered lands for hundreds and thousands of years. The Romans were known as resilient, suffering setbacks, overcoming improbable odds to come together and defeat the next enemy. They were tenacious, defiant even in the face of defeat. The Carthaginian general Hannibal had almost defeated the Romans at Cannae. The dictator of the Roman Republic, Quintus Verrucosus, through his intelligent and cunning mind found ways to beat Hannibal's armies with the use of a war tactic that we at the Union Battleground know as a familiar friend.
“Guerilla Warfare saved the Roman Republic but it will be the bitter end for the Outliers.”
The voice was familiar and immediately recognizable as The Speaker’s, Viduus Morta’s very familiar brother. An image of graves, boiler rooms, dark hallways and other cliche menacing sites generally served as backdrops for these types of things but there was nothing to see. There was only black, there was only darkness.
There is a peculiar feeling in the air of Union Battleground. Salvation once stood as the greatest threat to not only UB as a company but the professional wrestling landscape as we know it. Aiden Deimos, Tommy Crimson, Viduus Morta, and Nemesis were the four horsemen of the impending apocalypse until...they weren't. Tommy lost his way on the path of Salvation, unable to cope with what he assumed was a hierarchy. Aiden Deimos left Viduus to defend the Battalion Championships on his own. Nemesis has seen the cards get stacked against him higher and higher with each passing week. Salvation was forced to its knees in season 2 when it was believed they would rise. Viduus Morta suffered a loss in a four way dance that shocked the battleground. Aiden Deimos lost to the likes of Flash Kassidy, a man whom has seemingly gone up in smoke. Tommy Crimson was busy obsessing over washed up and broken legends in Mark Storm. Viduus and Nemesis remain as the last stand, tenacious and resilient, spitting in the face of defeat.
Our view was that of Season One highlights. Viduus Morta debuted helping Nemesis climb to the top of Union Battleground and become world champion. The Outliers capturing the Battalion Championships making their own moment of history. Various weaklings from the Salvation of old being sacrificed; sacrifices that would make Nemesis’ rise to the top possible. Flashes of Viduus Morta defeating two 4cw hall of famer on 4 months, Viduus capturing the 4CW pride championship.
“There is just so much history my friends but what is left to be said about the past? They say the past is bound to be repeated the way the Roman empire repeated the mistakes of the Persians and fell. If the sayings are meant to be completely true it would stand to reason the Outliers will recapture their titles setting up what would be a rubber match for the Battalion Championships. History teaches us to not repeat our mistakes. Viduus needed to evolve in order to create the reputation he has now. He needed to shed the skin of what he was in order to be what he has become. Have you had to change, adapt, and evolve HeWhoCorrupts, Grin? Have you ever become more than what you are? Have you ever needed to dig down deep and change your essence to transcend your careers? Hm? No, you have and will always be The Outliers. You will always cling to your past, maintaining your present and cementing your future as men with immense untapped potential.”
The lowlights of Salvation begin. Viduus not good enough to capture the Warhorse title. Aiden's streak of losses to Alyssa Daniels and Flash Kassidy. Tommy Crimson being pulled down the depths of the hole he dug himself.
“The history is anything but clean. It's stained with blood of Innocents, besmirched by our own mistakes. Changes have been made. Sacrifices were demanded. It did not matter. There are only two that now remain intertwined for the rest of their careers, fighting together yet still apart. At the end of the night each will stand, rising in glory, gold held above their head. Viduus Morta will defend these titles alone and alone he will be victorious.”
The still image of Aiden Deimos and Viduus Morta standing proudly in the middle of the ring raising their championships. This was supposed to be the catalyst for the future of Salvation in Union Battleground but Aiden had a change of heart. This world was not for him anymore perhaps even question if Salvation is real. Viduus questioned nothing. Viduus did not waver at all. He remained a constant, ready to defend, ready to be the beacon that Salvation needs in their time of distress.
“It is with a heavy heart that we watched Deimos walk away from us but he lost his way and will one day find the path again. While a rubber match would make for the best story Outliers, it is not written in the stars to be that way. Your fate holds a different path. You are to be exposed by a man who is another world than you. A man who is so far above and beyond your talents you couldn't dream of the things he is capable of. You, with your skateboards and textbook insults, don't belong in this ring with Viduus whether in be in Union, 4CW, CWC or whatever other company you can think of...Viduus will always stands head and shoulders above the both of you combined. The path of Salvation has been winding but it's kingdom will forever be at the Pinnacle of not only this company but this business as well.”
A reenactment from Hollywood movies of guerilla warfare tactics begin.
“Remember when members of Salvation weren't even on your radar? Words from your mouths. Well….are we now? And perhaps you recall calling me insufferable, underwhelming? Well how underwhelming am I now? Looks like your heads were spinning before our matchup as I exposed you for the frauds you are. You've truly not accomplished anything in UB and yet you clamor about yourself and puff your chests out as if you have built yourselves into something. We tore you down to win the battalion championships and at Guerilla Warfare Viduus will shred the very foundation of everything you claim to be.”
Black. Letter by letter, the next verse begins to unfold. No video packages or images. No sight yet of the real, live versions of Speaker and Viduus; only words.
Guerilla Warfarw (noun) the means used by weaker nations against a larger, stronger for
“You two Tony Hawk wannabe pissants will be the first victims in the new landscape of Salvation. The landscape of the battalion division stands on the edge of change. The titles teeter between irrelevancy if you manage to win and prestige when Viduus retains the titles alone. We could have requested the presence of Nemesis with us. We could have gone out and found another to stand side by side with Viduus...but there is no need. We have seen your fear. We have peered into your souls. You're unsteady, you're shook. The war ends soon enough Outliers. The first battle belonged to Salvation as will the second. Let this be the eulogy for your careers in Union Battleground, go gently into the good night, fade away and seek the light.
Undefeated you were and you hung your hats on that fact proudly. Now? Now you have one loss and you come up against the man who stained your record permanently. That shiny record means nothing anymore as Viduus is the undefeated one in the battalion division. We recall you mentioning a lack of ability. This lack of ability beat your faces in, left you face down on the mat, and took your titles.
Unique. Unpredictable. Unorthodox. Unconventional. All words you use to describe yourselves and all of them following this false narrative that you are something different. A narrative that you too are somehow the Pinnacle of tag team wrestling in this industry when really you're both barely scratching the bottom rung of tag teams that go noticed. You believe yourself to be on the same level as teams like Battleborn, World$tar, Invictus fight Club, Dogs of War, Paragon when the two of you haven't even sniffed anything near the competition those teams have faced. Now you come up against Viduus Morta, a multi time champion, and believe yourselves to have a chance? Get over yourselves. Youre right when you say you're crazy...trash hotel crazy I believe were your exact words. You are trash yes and crazy to believe these Championships will ever come back to you.”
The Romans avoided direct engagement with Hannibal's armies instead opting for a war or attrition.
“this will be a slow process for you two at GW. We will bring you down slowly and enjoy each sound of a broken bone. We will peel the flesh from you and bathe in your blood. You will bless these titles with what we take from you. You will be the sacrifice to ensure these titles stay with Salvation now and forever until the hour of our death.”
They downplayed the accomplishments and reputation of the Outliers knowingly. Words meant nothing at this point. Words would only affect the weakest of minds but at this point the Outliers have heard it all. Viduus may be defending the Battalion titles on his own but he would not go down without a fight..if he went down at all.
Their faces appeared strobing before the world went blindingly white.
*Click*
*Clack*
*Click*
*Clack*
Viduus walked his way from the right into view, both Battalion titles in hand slightly dragging on the ground. He cocked his head right and cracked neck. He cocked his head left like a curious puppy. The man had an aura about him but you couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was.
“ You're coming for these, this much I know. Have you changed? Have you figured out how to overcome me? Salvation? Have you done anything to figure a way to be something more than what you were last time? No. You'll say the first time was luck. A bit of luck on our side in the win. We all know it wasnt luck. We all know it wasn't just us being the better men on one night. I am better than the both of you on every night and will forever be so how...how do you reclaim your titles? There are only two options left for you. Join the path of Salvation and defend with is gloriously or be erased from the annuls of the history of these titles at Guerilla Warfare. We know your choice. We know you will choose to fight. We know that at the end of our matchup, Outliers, you will once again be left wanting.”
Post by The Outliers on Jun 26, 2018 22:44:21 GMT -5
hallowed butchery of the one.
june 26
undisclosed speakeasy
denver. colorado
The entire frame is engulfed in a thick, pearlescent smoke. The gradual build of a low-end hiss haunts the air as the smoke swirls, but this sound isn’t just some minor instance of urban noise pollution. Heavy clouds of toxic electrical fuzz, and a lonely metallic hum form a smokestack of dissonance. The prickly, crackling vibrations have a sinister resonance that sounds like an 800-pound version of electricity buzzing from a blown transformer, or a field recording made in some derelict section of Hell. Unsettling as it is, it also has a rich and weird sort of warmth to it, like smoldering ash.
With an air of dread and anxiety that sets the viewer on edge, the heavy smoke is rapidly sucked from the space like someone vomitting in rewind revealing an unmarked black door with a light above it. A golden Art Deco doorbell awaits, begging to be pushed. After a brief moment of coiled tension, the door gently opens and the viewer is casually ushered in by a man so tall he must've been taken apart outside before he could fit through. A giant in every sense, standing at seven feet and dressed to impress in a tuxedo and deep red bowtie. In a surreal, slow-motion sequence--dreamy yet always on the razor’s edge of turning into a nightmare--the viewer is led down a stairwell through the back halls of the building. The camera cautiously moves through a few corridors until coming to a door with a gold handle. While this is happening, the music is unbelievably present: rumbling, intensifying, closing in. A hand slowly reaches out, turns the knob and the music stops. You have arrived.
The viewer walks through the gold handled door into a dimly lit, beautifully decorated speak easy. In the background, big band music fills the room and candles glow on each table. There's something otherworldy about this place but you can't seem to put a finger on it; like trying to recall some half-forgotten dream before it dissolves into the ether.
From the strange alley-way entrance to the giant doorman from a parallel universe, this subterranean hideaway oozes mystique. It's open and intimate at the same time and consumed by a large center bar surrounded by leather stools. The dark wood walls, cognac-colored leather chairs and marble flooring are all set in low, vibrant lighting--making you feel as if you’ve traveled through time. This bar may look modern, but it takes you back to a bygone age. Where liquor was banned and people needed to sneak around to visit hidden drinking establishments; perfect for outliers and outlaws alike.
The viewer quickly looks for a seat until noticing a pair of Oddfellows in the corner waving you over to their table.
The click-clack of high heels ring out as a cocktail waitress crosses the floor and approaches the duo's booth. With a retro 50's poodle cut and wearing a black halter top with a a-line skirt, the attractive woman, covered in vibrant tattoos, winks and lowers the tray she had carried overhead. Not a beverage in sight, as the serving plate was instead loaded with what appear to be cigars, all neatly stacked in the shape of a pyramid.
Nodding in approval, The Outliers energetically rub their hands together as they reach in to help themselves. Akin to the lam renegade Gecko brothers or a couple of Reservoir Dogs holed up after a heist gone bad, they were suited and booted in custom three-pieces; tailored and trim like a velvet glove over an iron fist. Dressed for a funeral. Sawtooth immediately puts one in his mouth and uses a candle on the table for ignition; Corrupts slides one into his chest pocket then holds another up for the camera.
CORRUPTS: Not your typical ceegar. These bad boy's right here go through a month long process before they're ready, right here in Denver. Ya got Green Dawg's Candy Land smothered in strawberry banana rosin and Monster Cookie hash. Each filled with at least three and half grams of Candy Land and goes for about two-hundred and fifty bones. Top notch quality shit, we're talkin'.
Corrupts pulls out a lighter and follows suit taking short, deep draws. Smoke billows from the sides of his mouth as he holds the stogie out to examine, exhaling a massive O-ring that arch's as it sails, finally breaking on the lens.
GRIN: It's got crazy buttery, tropical, citrus notes and burns something like only a quarter inch an hour, giving a complete new meaning to the term, "all day sucker."
The DTW Tornado Champions melt into their horseshoe booth and out stretch their arms, resting them on top of the plush leather backing behind them. Stoic and straight-faced, the pair, completely comfortable with the silence, continue smoking in contemplation. A sigh escapes Grin, who lifts his head.
GRIN: Was Salvation's combination of Diemos and Morta too much for us? Were they more than we anticipated?
Pausing, Grin adjusts his cufflinks, giving the viewers a moment to formulate their own assessment.
CORRUPTS: Nah.
Effortlessly stylish and with all the sway, Corrupts nudges his partner as he brushes his lapel.
GRIN: Nope. Thank you, buddy. We just got beat, plain and simple. War of the Worlds was a blast, but it just wasn't our night; we addressed that a little more in-depth during our most recent Death Trip offering for those who haven't gotten a chance to viddy that wacky little number yet. So, props to those gentleman!
Willing to accept defeat, but competitors to the core, Sawtooth reluctantly shrugs as Corrupts kicks his battered Doc Martens up onto the table.
CORRUPTS: We're not bent outta shape and we're not dealing with any type of serious separation anxiety either, folks. Losing the titles sure as shit wasn't part of the plan, but aye, streaks and reigns aren't made to last, it's just not how this works, and that's a fact we've always been well aware of. And if you roll back the tapes, we've never been out here spoutin' off about how winning is the end all be all, cause it's not. It's just a fortunate side effect of what we do. Proving we're the best doesn't rank all too high on our priority list, you follow? We know we're the best...
With the cigar dangling from his lips, Corrupts squints his eyes to avoid drifting smoke; the cherry glows red as he takes another hit before continuing.
CORRUPTS: ..Since the dawn of time, all we've ever cared about is offering a sickening experience; melting the faces of every fan, and putting our opponents through the ringer -- to deliver every single time we're on the bill. It's not about tin straps, it's not about maintaining a win/loss record, ego, or notoriety -- it's about performing, it's about pushing cooperative wrestling to the forefront where it fuckin' belongs. Neither of which require W's or permanent hardware.
Eyes widen in agreement as a softspoken Sawtooth chimes in.
GRIN: So yeah, we're down a set of titles, so what?! Let's not forget our pal Viduus is a little light these days, too. At least since his "brother in arms" left him with his dick in his hand and walked out into the big, bad wilderness.. it was probably raining, too.. amirite?
Sawtooth, with a prodding look on his face tilts his head and leans over the table, speaking to Morta directly.
GRIN: And what the fuck? Dippin' out on your partner right after you win the belts? Who does that?! Seems like a real solid dude. Way to take a big fuckin' opportunity and shit all over it. At this stage in the game, you'd think Salvation would be a little more careful and selective about who they go into battle with, but who are we kidding here? Y'all obviously haven't learned a fuckin' thing 'cause it's still impossible to keep track of how many members you guys have burned through. Now maybe your back was sore from carrying him around, dead weight, we'll never know. But based on his puzzling and abrupt departure, whatever bond you'd formed in the trenches together, wasn't as deep as you thought..
Sawtooth stops himself, scratching his chin, then points his finger.
GRIN: ..BUT THEN AGAIN, we couldn't help but notice that the ol' Executioner and yourself have moseyed out West and recently signed papers with the California Wrestling Division. WUDUP WITH THAT?! It's curious as all get out and really begs the question, what was the point?! What was the purpose of hanging you out to dry?! Especially if ya got the dead weight still runnin' with you!
Throwing his hands up, waving it off.
GRIN: Oh, we don't actually give a good goddamn, but isn't it just so deliciously ironic that it was Aiden who called us the cowards..
Grin raises an eyebrow and rolls his eyes while Corrupts folds his hands behind his head.
CORRUPTS: Empty vessels make the loudest sound. But wolves don't lose sleep over the opinions of sheep, do they? And now he's the one turning his back, not only on his compadres, but on the opportunity to derail one of the best teams goin' today and prove the first trip 'round the sun wasn't just a fluke. But I suppose the overwhelming stress of that unenviable task got him lookin' for the exit. He found it, alright, but it's at your expense. Needless to say, we don't blame him; we ruin teams even when we lose.. apparently.
Smoke continues to fill the scene..
GRIN: And now you're just a singles man in a tag team land. Thought he had a team, turned out to be a man alone. Now that's tough.. that's real tough. Hangin' on to the roots of a broken dream. Yeah, you're quiet on the outside, no doubt, but we suspect it's all a front to disguise the seething mass of nerves writhing within.
Scanning the dimly lit speakeasy
CORRUPTS: See, when we dropped the titles to you, we flew straight to Tokyo and defended our Tornado Rules Championships in what was a got-damn award winning tussle. We threwdown and bested the Badd Breed founder, Erik Holland and his girl; along with The Filth Parade, CWC World Champion, Josh Kennedy and Rebel Manson. All lethal competitors at the very top of their game.
Corrupts holds his hand level, and using it like a benchmark, he lifts it above his head.
CORRUPTS: What have you done with those Battalion beauties since War of the Worlds? We know there isn't a huge pool of teams to choose from 'cause we ERASED them all, but YOU.. you've been silent, busy with Four Corners. Is this the type of fuckin' Champion you intended to be all along? Was it all born out of spite?
Drenched in irritation and confusion..
GRIN: I guess this is what happens when management hands out free shots. Whether you beat us or not is really beside the point. It's been painfully clear over this past month that neither of you were ready for that level of responsibility in this company. Soo, it was too much too soon, or you really could care less.
Meanwhile what little of a division we have left here gets held up by this one fuckin' guy making a complete fuckin' mockery of the whole thang. You thought you'd get away with a, let's call it what it is, fruitless reign like your bossman; sitting on a pedestal with the titles locked away for what?! A RAINY DAY!? Well, that shit ain't gonna fly on our clock, homecup! Surprised you haven't been stripped already. They're tag belts. You need two men. I mean, am I fuckin' missing something here? You've squandered what you've been given, what you haven't had to sweat for, and you blew it. You're times up, and The Outliers are here to step in.
Sawtooth bounces his thumb back and forth; pointing toward his partner then back to himself.
CORRUPTS: Hope you didn't think you were gonna grow old holding onto all that gold like some fugged up version of the keeper of the Grail in The Last Crusade, the custodian of cups. If so, you have chosen.. unwisely.
This division was built on our backs off of our hard work, and we're not about to stand idly by while you run into the fuckin' ground. We won't stand for it. There's an endless supply of promotions and they're all runnin' real dry on legit teams -- with all the pound for pound best spread throughout the land, covering their designated corners. And at this rate, in this climate, tag team wrestling truly will become a dying art. And we DAMN SURE aren't about to let that happen, either. We're not gonna let you kill what you had no hand in creating.
GRIN: Or drink from a well you didn't dig.
Shaking his head.
GRIN: Since the start of the season, we've made it our personal mission to bring the future of tandem graps to new heights, extolling the many virtues of our art and spreading the gospel to as many as possible. With every act of raw beauty, with each precise flowing line that defies the laws of physics, with every "HOLY SHIT!" moment, we're pushing to create an awe inspiring ballet that mesmerizes anyone who dares to keep their eyes open. We know enthusiasm isn't your strong suit, but you're putting everyone to sleep faster than a pair of Sonic the Hedgehog pajamas.
CORRUPTS: Take your open challenge, for instance. That was the softest, most subdued call-out we've ever seen. You certainly didn't seem like your usual self and rightfully so.. you suffered a major casualty. We hobbled you before you even had a chance to hit your stride. But you still thought you could carry the weight of the entire division? Now we realize your legs are probably a lot stronger from carrying Aiden for so long but, really? Your arrogance truly knows no bounds. I mean who could blame you, you did just beat us.. but you barely survived when you had a partner so what makes you think you can withstand the onslaught of The Outliers single-handedly? We're a bit confused 'cause it's not like you didn't have time to find a replacement.. someone worthy of filling Deimos' boots -- which shoulda been a fuckin' cakewalk -- but you decided against it. What are we left to think? You knew exactly who the fuck was gonna walk through that curtain. When we hear the call for high adventure, we're more than happy to oblige. The Outliers will ALWAYS pick up the phone. So the only conclusion we're left to make is either you're arrogant, breathlessly stupid, brave or some bitter blend of all three, either way it's not a good mix.
GRIN: One thing's for sure, you got cojones the size of cannonballs, potnah!
CORRUPTS: I'm talkin' balls of solid steel, and you ain't takin' shit from nobody!..
Expressionless, The Outliers turn in and lace into each other with a massive slap a piece.
GRIN: Nobody!
CORRUPTS: The lone survivor.. last man standing.. we respect that, we really do. But when it comes to us, we're tellin' ya right now, straight-up.. it's a cocktail for complete and total disaster.
For the first time all night The Outliers crack a smile, and toast with their party favors by touching the tips of their stogies together.
CORRUPTS: From any normal, rational human's point of view, they'd swear up and down all day that the pressure's on us. It's The Outliers JOB and sole responsibility to take back the division and take this Lost Boy back to Neverland until he remembers how to fight, how to fly, how to crow. It's two on one, it's already sewn up, there should be no problem.
CORRUPTS: However, we see things a little differently. From our perspective, the pressure's on you. And not only pressure but extreme adversity. You came out alone thinking you were gonna dust the best. Prove it. It's time to man up now that you're a man down. You didn't think you needed a partner, but you're gonna wish you had that lifeline by the time that bell sounds at Guerrilla Warfare. This is a different sport and you're gonna respect the difference when we're through with you. No tag team division we're a part of will ever be lead by a single man.
GRIN: She-ha! And you better have that maniacal little head of yours on a swivel 'cause you'll be duckin' the Eraserhead all night. It's one of those moves we can hit JUST.. LIKE.. THAT!
Sawtooth smashes his fist down onto the tabletop.
CORRUPTS: Y'know, some fighters pride themselves on taking the rocky path, climbing the steepest hills and crashing through every obstacle put in their way. Others ARE the pride.. warriors who sacrifice everything they have to live a single day as king of the ring. Some can communicate just how deep they're willing to go.. some have a special kind of determination that allows them to fall down time and again, only to get up, stand every bit as steadfast and spit in your face..
GRIN: Some will laugh in the heat of an exchange as if to say the scariest five words you never wanna hear in a fight, "Is that all you got?" You're lookin' at two such individuals. And when you look at, The Outliers, I hope you see every remnant of what you could not destroy.
CORRUPTS: We're fully aware of what you're capable of.. but we're not leavin' Guerrilla Warfare until the Rocks run red with your blood. Until wrestling is banned from the Amphitheatre like live music was after Jethro Tull played there back in '71. Until the boys in blue come tossin' tear gas.. until we we've left our berzerker-moshin', Vans Sk8-Hi-imprint on the forehead of every man, woman and child. Until you're just a pile of torn skin and loose teeth and blood.. when you're nothing but the stuff we couldn't eat well, that'll be a damn shame.
GRIN: Because there won't be a single one of you left for us to take out. We've been left with no choice but to make the most prime of example out of you.
CORRUPTS: You guys think you're the devils favorite. And by now you're probably startin' to buy into your own myth. But that's dangerous.. One battle does not a war make. And this is the Battleground. We never lose, we learn. And it's gonna show in Denver. You ain't gonna bury us in no desert. We're dressed for your funeral, not ours.
GRIN: We have our own vision and we're gonna see it through, and no one in Union can stop us..
On that note, the scene is instantly drained of all color and the velvet curtain next to the bar is slowly pulled back. The stage is set for The Outliers request.
