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Angels vs Demons; KN vs Angel
Topic Started: Jan 25 2010, 12:05 AM (88 Views)
King Nothing
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The Ultimate Opportunist

The walls lining the cave are covered with oozing slime, algae, and dirty water that trickles down slowly, dripping to the floor consistently. The occasional creaking and popping can be heard echoing through the room. Several candles lit cast some illumination through the room, enough to make the shadows dance a somber dance along the floor and walls. There is a stone table set up on the far side; upon it sits the candles, one on either side of a large book. King Nothing kneels in front of the table, his hands resting in front of the candles.

“This power, I shall unleash.” He chants like a mantra, while gently rocking to and fro, and swaying in one smooth motion. The camera rotates around the Ultimate Opportunist and shows his face, a flat expression, but his eyes are solid black; the only color from them comes from the reflection of the flickering light of the candle. In the background, the dripping continues, and synchronizes with the mantra of King Nothing’s voice.

In a fluid motion, King Nothing raises his hands into the air and rises to his feet, his long black trench coat falls down to his ankles, casting an angelic shadow upon the far wall of the cave. A voice chimes in, surrounding, completely engulfing him. As the voice speaks, the candle light flutters, nearly extinguishing.

“Three years it has been, King Nothing, since you’ve graced us with your presence.” The voice echoes and reverberates; many individual voices combine into one powerful one.

With his arms out from his side in a v configuration, King Nothing remains still and speaks to the voices. “I’ve tried to stop it. I’ve tried to drown it. I’ve tried to ignore it.”

“Yet it calls upon you with a voice that cannot be silenced. King Nothing, it dwells deep within you, sharing roots with your very soul. Tis something that cannot be masked. Something that cannot be ignored. Something that cannot be overcome.”

“My efforts thus far have been futile. I can see that now. I felt the cry down to the marrow of my bones. I ignored it, and therefore I’ve been paying the price.”

“We have witnessed the spectacle known as King Nothing. We have witnessed minute successes and great failures. We have looked on while time and time you have grasped defeat from the jaws of victory.”

“I despair. I am at the very bottom. The time has come for me no longer try to avoid my fate. I must unleash the power. I must embrace my true calling.”

“Despair not, my student. We are within you. We have returned to you, one most sacred to you.”

“Amber.”

“You draw power from the woman. You draw confidence from within her. She is pure. We have watched as you have taken your life down a road of failure and depression. Depression, King, is an emotion. Emotions are weakness. This weakness has cast a dire price upon us.”

“I am ready to embrace it. I can no longer deny the monster that I am.”

“Your task, King Nothing, is simple. Violence. Destruction. Pain. Devastation. You’ve amassed another emotion… empathy. This emotion is disgusting, vile, and repulsive. We do not empathize with the enemy. We do not… care… about injuries. Wounded animals attract wolves for a reason, King Nothing. Efficient predators seek the path of least resistance. Humans pity the weak. Care for the wounded. Help the suffering. This, King Nothing is to satisfy their greed.”

“Satisfy greed?”

“There are no selfless acts. For every action, King Nothing, there is a reward, or no such action would be taken. Empathy is a mask to conceal their desire to feel good, to say that they helped the less fortunate. Without the promise of heaven or the fear of hell, do you imagine any saint or prophet would have repeated their “noble” deeds?”

“Highly doubtful. There would be more devastation in the world. More death, more suffering.”

“The human emotions are weaknesses, King Nothing, do you not see? We are better than that. We are beyond emotion. We must rise above that weakness and unleash upon the world what we truly are… monsters.”

The voice continues to echo throughout the cave as the candle lights are blown out. King Nothing stands in the darkness, entranced, his hands still out at his sides, his silhouette barely visible in the ambient light from the cave’s entrance.

Cut to:

CWF Headquarters

King Nothing is standing in the bright lights of the interview room where Chester Taylor sits behind a large, oak desk. The headquarters has budgeted Taylor a studio set up much like that of a talk show. Oak floors, plush chairs, a cityscape behind a light curtained background, and a large CWF logo hanging directly between the host’s desk and the guests’ chairs.

There is a team of makeup artists going to work on King Nothing’s face and hair while Taylor clears his throat and takes a shot of scotch a la Brasky. One member of the team tells King Nothing that there is three minutes until he goes on. He takes a deep breath, the smell of stale makeup and freshly cut wood fills his nostrils.

Chester: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Chester Taylor, and as you can see, we have an official interview studio that has been freshly built here at CWF headquarters. With the amount of rumor writers and interview shows, it was deemed cost effective to give them a base of operation. So here we are, the first interview in the new studio, and it’s with a man who has been shown to have very few words for the press, and a certain hostility if questioned the wrong way. I’ll take my chances as I bring to you “The Ultimate Opportunist, member of the Cyndicate, King Nothing!

Metallica’s King Nothing plays and The Ultimate Opportunist walks out from behind some heavy curtains. He shakes Taylor’s hand and sits down in the plush, cream colored chair. Once the music stops, Taylor gets to work.

Chester: Welcome, King Nothing. Thanks for agreeing to be the guinea pig in the new studio.

King Nothing nods.

Chester: What a huge week you have coming up! After a rough couple weeks so far this year, you have afforded yourself a shot at Angel’s Impact title. We have seen in the last two weeks, the action heat up immensely with backstage encounters and attacks from both sides. Let me ask you, where’s the animosity coming from? Before this, there really hasn’t been a whole lot of on screen contact between you two.

King Nothing: I’m sure you’ve witnessed the rise to power that the Cyndicate has had. And I know that you know of the ongoing feud between the stables. What it all boils down to, Taylor, is her mouth. She runs her mouth all day long. The whole group does, The Insurgency. They bring cameras to their little Pepsi spaghetti dinners and flap their gums about anybody who isn’t a member if their clique being “full of poo and smells like wee wee.” Are we in fucking preschool?

Chester: Uh, I’m pretty sure you can’t say that on the air…

KN: Preschool?

Chester: No, fuck.

KN: But you just said it.

Chester: Damnit.

KM: Moving on, the preschool antics don’t really help their cause any, but it’s the simple fact that their mouths are always running. Angel stands out from the group, though. She’s a bit more serious. When she runs her mouth, people tend to listen because it’s not filled with made up words and ridiculous and repetitive statements like awesometastic and the like. Her mouth is more of a smart one. Her voice, a shrieking shrill, annoying every fiber of my being. When threatened, she hides behind her belt as if it’s some accomplishment that she has it, and has held it so long. What competition has she really had for it?

Chester: Well, actually, there have been…

King Nothing cuts him off…

KN: That’s where I come in. I’m coming in and I am going to finish that little loud mouthed bitch off for good. I’m going to take that title from her, and then I’m going to bash her face in with it.

Chester: There’s that animosity I had mentioned. What drives King Nothing to be so violent toward Angel? I mean, to the viewer, she seems like she likes to have fun.

KN: There’s a deeper thing within her. She’s out of place with the Insurgency, and she knows it. She’s hiding it. Much like the line Dan Highlander had to cross when we faced off, Angel must cross that line as well. When she does, and she will, then we will have a lot of fun. This past week, I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. Not in the Brasky way, but in the way that it feels fantastic when I have my hands wrapped around her soft, fragile throat. As I drove that chair into her leg time and time again… hearing and seeing her in agony and anguish just made me feel good, Chester.

Chester: I really can’t say I know that feeling. That said, what is your game plan, if any, going into this?

KN: My game plan? I’m bringing back the King Nothing of the old days. The championship? Secondary. My main goal in this match is to show the world my power. I don’t want Angel to leave this match being pleased that she gave it a good run. I don’t want her to walk out of the match period. I want her carried out of the match on a stretcher, feeling pain, feeling desperate while searching for the answer to the question if she’ll ever be able to wrestle again. There will be blood. There will be bones snapping. There will be chaos, and I will be in control.

Chester: On that note, King Nothing, I will thank you for your time, and wish you good luck this week at Genesis.

King Nothing’s theme plays once again as the lights dim on the set.

Later that night at King Nothing’s flat…

[orange] The ceiling is blank, completely featureless except for the rotating shadow created by the fan. There’s a humming noise in the background that must be from a generator or something. At this point, I don’t care.

As I step outside myself and look back, I see a broken man. A man who has been on a losing streak since the start of the New Year. A man, who until then, has struck fear into the deepest pits of his opponents’ souls, is now a laughing stock for having lost to a string of opponents. I pity the man I’m looking at. Look at the grief, the stress he has endured. He feels like he has awoken on an island where it’s only him and nothing else. Marooned and abandoned by his thoughts, memories and sanity.

Where does that leave me? Driving down the road, trying to be the nice guy only to have a breakdown and watch the other drivers flying by without so much as a glance in my direction. Going into a match with reserves about really hurting someone… really dishing out some damage to send a message… and I end up on my back. I should just go with my instinct… I know all to well that the nice guys never come out on top. I need not be the nice guy and simply continue to punish and pulverize my opponents.

I reenter my body and look through the same eyes I’ve been looking through for many years. It’s close to midnight and I can feel my eyelids growing heavy. My extremities are tingling, and my pulse is slow. I may actually sleep tonight. I don’t bother turning out the light, I simply close my eyes and think as I drift off. [/orange]

[red]Am I a success or a failure? If I was a disappointment, who would be the disappointed?

What do I have in my life? Who do I have? That’s right… nothing, nobody.[/red]

V.O. (whispered, male voice)

…You are not good enough…

[red]“Let’s not go through this again”[/red]

…You are pathetic…

[red] “Hey, judge not.”[/red]

…You are doomed to fail…

[red]”Who the fuck is this?”[/red]

…Every move you make, I’m there. We’re there.

[red]“Don’t let me get my hands on you.”[/red]

…You are not worthy to hold these gifts. A mere man you are, and you choose mediocrity…

[red]“I’m more than they. I cannot be defeated if not on my own choosing.”[/red]

…Defeated you have been since conception. Prove us wrong and ye shall receive…

[orange] I jump awake and sit up in bed, my sore red eyes opened wide, fixed on the first thing I can focus on, which is a wall plate. I can hear my blood rushing through my veins, hissing its way past my ears. I prop myself up on my elbows and take a few deep breaths to calm down. I look over and see Amber sleeping peacefully on her side, completely unaware of my plight.

“It’s just a dream”, I think to myself. I glance over at the clock and it’s blinking 12:00. “Great, the power must have gone out.” I reach over to the small wooden end table and grab my watch. It too is stopped at 12:00, so I tap it a couple times with my index finger just to be sure. I’m starting to think it was a power surge, or a lightening EMP.

“I need a drink.” Having no indication of what time it is, I roll off the bed and slip on my jeans and shirt. I head outside; making sure that the lock is secured and then walk out into the darkness toward town. [/orange]


Cut to:
Along a dark street, thick woods on one side. King Nothing is walking across the street in the direction of the trees.

[orange] Its a little ways to town, I like it that way. There aren’t a lot of crazies up on this hill. One less now that I’m taking off. There is a path worn through the woods from people cutting through. It’s a nice shortcut, but not anywhere you want to be at night unless you’re me. I’m the guy the ruffians avoid when they prowl.

The cold leaves molest my face as I breach the tree line. The path is abnormally dark tonight, but it’s of no concern. I’m just headed into town for a fresh pair of batteries and a drink; I’ll be right back home in no time.

As I reach the spot where the little creek crosses the path, I slow down, as it normally flows a bit heavier at night because of the dew. I don’t hear the creek tonight at all, so I stop for a moment and listen. I hear nothing. It is very peculiar. No water, no animals, no traffic, not even the rustle of the leaves from the breeze. No breeze.

I turn around to see where I came from, but there is a thick white fog that has rolled in obscuring my view. I turn back toward where I was headed and there the fog is again. I feel chills go down my spine, and I head toward where I believe town to be.

I’m stopped at the edge of the fog by what I see. After the fog, there is nothing. It’s a cliff that looks to drop straight into the bowels of hell. I quickly run the other direction to find the same on the other side.

I walk back to the middle of my new “island” and drop to my knees, and put my fingers through my hair. I don’t know what the hell is happening, and I’m not sure I want to find out. [/orange]

[red]“What is this?!?”[/red]

…We told you that you weren’t of quality…

[red]“Who are you and where the hell am I at?”[/red]

…You claimed to be ready. Show us, old King…

[red]“I am ready! Look at me! I’ve come to embrace my animalism.”[/red]

…We see what has happened to you, you have weakened…

[red]“Me? Weak? Hardly.”[/red]

… We’ve warned you of emotions such as pride, King Nothing…Look past your ego and live within…

[orange] I look around me for the voice, but there is no source, just fog. I look to the left, then to the right, and there is just more and more fog. I am about to close my eyes when out in my peripheral, I see some movement. I immediately look in the direction and call out to the fog. “Show yourself, demon!”

The fog takes the shape of a figure, and then as a moment goes by, there are more figures emerging. I can’t believe my eyes as the first figure takes the shape of Dan Highlander. The second takes the shape of Angel, and the third is the shape of King Nothing holding a championship belt. The voice starts up again. [/orange]

…This figure represents what was…

[blue]The figure of Highlander steps forward for my inspection. The eyes are dark and cold, as if looking into a bottomless pit. There is no soul there.[/blue]

… This man has grown beyond you. We have seen this man fall before you, yet now he stands above you…

[red]“I had a bad week.”[/red]

…Excuses!…This figure represents what is…

[blue]The figure of Angel steps forward, stopping right next to Highlander’s.[/blue]

… This woman is set to challenge you soon. You are not ready…

[red]“Angel? I could beat her on my worst day.”[/red]

… Your mind is weak, King… This figure represents what will be…

[blue]The figure of King Nothing steps forward, standing next to Angel’s. [/blue]

… If you so choose, this destiny shall be yours… But you are not ready, you must prepare…

[red]“How do I prepare? What must I do to be ready? How do I prove myself to you?”[/red]

… You must not rush… Ye have been judged… Prepare yourself…

[orange] At that, the three figures surround me and begin closing in. I panic, I’m about to be attacked by three fog men… I swing at the Highlander figure, but my hand goes right through him, the fog swirling around the path my fist just took. I swing at the others and the result is the same. There’s nothing I can do.

The air suddenly drops in temperature and I can see my breath start to freeze as I exhale. I try to inhale, but the cold chokes me and I drop to my knees and gasp. The figures approach me, join hands and begin to glow. I let out a frozen yell as the light intensifies. The voice that surrounds me laughs as the light energy from these figures burst from within them and enters my body through my chest. The dark… The cold and the dark close in around me…[/orange]

Cut to:

Later, in the woods, King Nothing lays on the ground next to the path. A homeless man approaches him and pokes at him with his walking cane.

[teal]“You alright, Buddy?”[/teal]

[orange] My eyes burst open with the same sore, dry, bloodshot feeling they had before. I roll to my side and prop myself, looking around me with a paranoid feeling throughout my body. I scan my surroundings looking for the fog, looking for the cliffs, looking for the three figures, but there are none. Nothing out of the ordinary is around; just the homeless man and myself.

Everything is very normal… until I look down and see the scorched hole in my shirt. [/orange]



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