Post by Kaven Drell on Mar 18, 2019 20:35:52 GMT -5
A pleasant guitar chord is struck as the scene bursts to life, a familiar rocking chair holding the muscular physique of the War Horse champion as he smiles brightly at the sound of the strings. Slowly, the camera zooms outward to reveal a picturesque house, almost like it was plucked straight from the set of Leave it to Beaver or Little House on the Prairie, with Drell and his trusty rocking chair placed just off to the side of the front door that would lead inward. If the viewer listened closely enough they likely would swear that they could hear the sound of children laughing and playing, though there were none in sight. On a rickety wooden table that was set next to the rocking chair was an old radio though it wasn’t yet playing any sounds.
“Hello, Jake.”
Drell rocks softly back and forth with the guitar resting comfortably in his lap now. It’s an odd name for Kaven to throw out there if one hadn’t been paying attention closely. The War Horse champion was a stickler for details, however, and a man who was unafraid to exploit any opportunity he might see to get inside of his opponents head. So far it had worked successfully and with each passing week more and more fans could be heard, in spite of themselves, gathering and chanting the three imploring words he loved so much.
“This is going to be a difficult week for you. Right now you live in a world where your father is king. He’s Superman, right? Every time he walks into a room you light up because he’s your superhero. And now he’s doing something pretty cool with his life, isn’t he? Man, he’s just like one of those guys right out of the comic books. Even when his world fell apart around him he still picked himself back up and now he’s competing week in and week out in front of big crowds. He’s even on television. It’s pretty awesome, right? I remember that feeling. I remember looking up to my dad like he could do no wrong. Eventually, though, life exposes a fairy tale for what it is. For you, Jake, this is the week that I expose all of that to you. This week, your eyes are going to be opened to the fact that superheroes are just as fake and fraudulent as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. You’re going to hate me, Jake. And that’s fine. You can hate me now, but eventually you’re going to thank me for opening your eyes to what your father really is.”
A burst of static emanates from the radio on the wooden table, drawing Kavens attention for just a moment. The sound causes a subtle shake of Drell’s head and, as if on cue, it fades to silence once more.
“Jennifer, I know you’re listening. I know you’re sitting there watching. I remember the look of horror in your eyes not long ago when you realized the father of your son was putting himself at risk once more against a monstrosity like Karnivall. Oh, how you’re wishing for the good old days now, eh? Your motherly instinct is going to drive you to shield young Jake from witnessing what I am going to do to his father. But don’t shield his eyes. Don’t hide him from the truth. Let Jake learn now, before he makes the mistake of following in his father’s footsteps, that there are men like me in the world who take great pleasure in setting fire to all things bright and beautiful. Show him the folly of idolizing a man as anything more than the frail, fragile human being that Nathan is. You have a responsibility, Jennifer. Don’t shirk from it. Don’t back down from it. When Jake wants to turn away, when he doesn’t think he can stand to see it any longer, make him keep watching. This will be the most important lesson your son ever learns.”
Yet again static bursts forth from the radio and this time is silenced by an annoyed snort from the War Horse champion. Gritting his teeth, Kaven shook his head irritatedly. At the same time his fingers drummed on the polished wood of the acoustic guitar that he continued to let rest in his lap. Rhythmically beneath the sound of all of this was the continued grinding of the rockers of the chair against the hardwood of the porch.
“Everyman. You owe your family an apology. This is no place for you. You have no business being in the same ring as the likes of me. Already I’ve stomped out men and women who are giants of the industry compared to you. I’ve snuffed their existence out like a candle in a gust of wind. What makes you different than Elena DeDraca? Than Michael Kelly? Than Karnivall? Than Cletus Franklin? What makes you think you can walk into this spiders web and not get tangled up and devoured? What is there for the Everyman to do when everyone else can’t figure out the puzzle themselves? Is it that you’re chasing a dream that you never were able to quite grasp in your youth? Nathan, I am the dream crusher.”
A high pitched whistle cuts Drell off, coming from the radio like it’s trying to lock onto a signal, but Kaven simply reaches over and touches it gently and once more it quiet falls over the setting. It’s chased away by the deep tones of the War Horse champions voice a moment later, however.
“Or is this some quest to win your family back. Do you think if you just fight hard enough, and long enough, that maybe Jennifer will open her heart to you once again.”
Drell laughs, amused.
“Or maybe it’s her legs you’re hoping she’ll open for you.”
The champion licks his lips seductively at the camera, almost implying that perhaps he would test Turners former flame out himself.
“But Nathan, there is no amount of fight that you can put up that won’t be cut like a puppets string the moment the bell tolls. There’s no amount of heart that you can show that I won’t tear out with my own bare hands and hold up before your very eyes as it beats its last. There is no hope for you. Don’t let foolish pride blind you from truth. There’s still time for you to walk away. There’s still time for you to return to the gymnasiums and backyards you grew accustomed to years ago. But those days. Those hours. Those minutes. Those seconds. Everyman, they’re dwindling away. The clock is ticking, Nathan. And if it strikes midnight, and March Twenty Second rolls around, there will be no glass slippers left behind to save you. There will be nothing to stop me from taking from you just like I have from every other person whom I’ve stepped into the ring with.”
Gently, his fingers began to play with the dials of the radio though no sound came from it yet. His attention was once more drawn to the object, but even so he continued to address his opponent.
“And you, Nathan, have so much more to lose. It’s more than just tearing down the status quo with you. It’s more than eradicating a complacent champion. It’s more than knocking down a house of cards and exposing a white knight as a fraud. It’s more than removing the smile from a circus freaks face. It’s more than opening the eyes of an overconfident buffoon to his true status in life. No, for you there is so so so much for me to rip away from you. In the snap of my fingers, and the blink of an eye, I’m going to set fire to the fabric of your entire life. There will be nothing left, Nathan. Nowhere for you to turn. Jennifer will look at you with disgust for what you’ve put your son through. Jake, well he’ll look at you with disdain and disappointment because you allowed him to believe that you are something that you’re not and never could have been. I am the grim reaper standing at the door of everything you hold near and dear to your heart.”
Subtly his fingers continued to shift the dials of the radio.
“The irony is, Nathan, if you come to Columbus and walk to that ring I will make you like every man. I will make you like every woman. I will make you like everyone who has ever made the mistake of stepping inside of that squared circle with me. Nathan I will…”
Smirking, the sounds of childrens laughter that the viewer swore they could have heard earlier now burst loudly into their ears. In a sing song voice they cry out…
“Kill! Drell! Kill!”
Derisive laughter erupts from him and with a pat of his hand on the radio the static cuts the sound of the childrens laughter off. A moment later, Drell shifts the guitar in his lap and strums the same chord that he had earlier, but this time it’s in unison with the radio. Rocking in the chair, Drell pulls his fingers away from the guitar and closes his eyes, nodding his head gently along with the sound of the voice of Johnny Cash that now fills the ears of those who are watching while the scene’s color fades to resemble the black and white pictures of old time television.
“I’ve been everywhere man…”
And Johnny Cash’s voice rolls on, until suddenly the whole picture becomes snowy static.
