The camera cuts backstage, where Christum Furor is seen leaning on an equipment box in the corridor. He puts his hand on his burlap mask, giving it a quick wipe, before removing it as Tom Matheny approaches.
Tom Matheny: I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me Furor. We might as well cut to the chase here. Zack Lifer is your former friend and partner. Why did you choose him to join Gods & Monsters in the first place?
The seething madman takes a moment to clear his throat and contemplate his thoughts before answering the million dollar question.
Christum Furor: I chose Nick Kramer because at the time it was the smartest thing to do. Considering the circumstances, it’s important to make note that when dealing with adversity, you acquire the knowledge and tools to make your future much less complicated. Most of you people know it as being selfish. I am proud to say I’m selfish, because I know it was that selfishness that helped make me one of the most well known wrestlers in this company, in this sport, and it was the very reason Nick Kramer was drawn to me. I gave him a home because he needed one. I gave him the power to unlock the power of his subconscious mind. In spite of the blessings I bestowed upon him he chose to spit in my face, and dedicate his life to bringing me misery and harm because he’s been conditioned to do so by those who oppose me.
Furor begins taping his wrists in his usual white hockey tape, preparing to fight the very man he’s talking about in a moment’s time.
Tom Matheny: Indeed things obviously didn’t turn out as you planned with the two of you. Your thoughts?
Furor exhales through his nose, giving a small grin as he continues to tape his hands.
Christum Furor: Nick Kramer… what do I think of Nick Kramer? It seems like I’ll never stop hearing his name. Why? Because he is quite possibly my greatest disciple, yet by the same token he is my greatest failure. Nick Kramer had all the tools and all the talent - I gave him power, but he used that power in the sense of a nuclear bomb. See, he lacks strategy, and understanding of what’s important. He just cannonballs into the pool, to make a splash, without thinking first if there’s water in it. That’s what’s gotten him into trouble. Like a kamikaze pilot he flies into targets, never knowing what the consequences of his actions will be. Tonight he is flying straight into destruction, and I will be there to capitalize on his demise. Nick Kramer is my creation. I gave him life, now I must take it.
Tom Matheny: What happened two weeks ago, what do you have to say about that? Between the two of you, and Rosalyn Darling of KWI, we certainly saw a different side to you. Almost like you were humble.
The madman begins to speak, but cuts himself off, thinks a bit more, then continues.
Christum Furor: Nick Kramer believes he humbled me, that he got some sort of upper hand. He is misguided. Understand Tom, that nothing I do is by accident. I’m in control of all of my faculties, and every single one of my vices - vices I have harnessed into dementia, a madness that I have used to rebuild this corrupt system in the image of my exalted likeness. I told Nick Kramer that there are consequences for heroism. What happened two weeks ago happened because I
allowed it to. Nick Kramer is a fragile little teacup, and sometimes I like to push teacups over the edge and watch them scatter into little pieces just to see if they’ll put themselves back together. Since the moment he turned his back on me I’ve been guiding him onto this specific timeline for a reason, to remind him of something. Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is a gift mankind has given itself, and ironically it is
that gift that takes away our very humanity. I’m going to show Nick that nobody is truly incorruptible, and that every
White Knight can be consumed with darkness because morality is merely an illusion in a hate-filled reality.
A loud tittering howl erupts from the revolutionist, the outburst startling everyone in earshot.
Tom Matheny: Why in God’s name are you so enamored with pain and destruction?
Furor’s face darkens a bit, a more serious tone coming over him.
Christum Furor: Self-destruction is what made
me. It’s what made EXODUS. The pain Magnus Gunner endured ultimately ended up destroying him, but it was through his agony and distress, the constant broken fingers, bruised tissue, broken neck and battered psyche that this company has withstood the test of time, for had it not been, this company would have never seen a glimpse of what it is today. This company sacrificed it’s only son so that other’s may live and reap the benefits, so that men like Jonathan Collins, Rufus Frost, and the Grays could turn a profit. The world turned a blind eye to his suffering, and outcast and vilified him for his afflictions. They can't ignore Magnus Gunner anymore, because of every ounce of pain he experienced, I’m sharing every bit of it with this world. That’s why Nick Kramer has in store for him tonight, and what Johnny Cannon will be faced with at Absent Are The Saints.
Matheny is silent now as Furor elaborates.
Christum Furor: I have a plan, Tom, a plan that is unfolding brilliantly. I have Nick Kramer right where I want him. He believes he has everything under control, little does he know he’s merely a combat veteran with a purple heart, one I’ve invited to a game of paintball. On one hand, he’ll find it enjoyable, albeit messy - yet on the other I’m going to drudge up some cold, repressed memories - memories he’s tried to forget of dead daughters and devious things he’s done to people like Brytain Montgomery. We’re going to have a massacre on our hands… and instead of being covered in paint, he’s going to be covered in copious amounts of blood and inner demons. Like the moth to the flame he’s proven to be
so predictable. I’ve laid out a piece of cheddar on the opposite side of a mouse trap, and he’s taken the bait, and when that trap springs the Hammer of Dawn will come down and destroy all of his fragile beliefs.
The Michigander’s fingers ascend into the air, as he begins to run his fingertips through his hair.
Christum Furor: I’m taking you to a place you don’t want to go, Nick Kramer. You will see things you won't believe you would see, you will do things you never thought would do, and you will be the victim of things so intangible that only the devious, over-developed neurological powers can conceive them. For this is
my world. My playground. My house. I have wiped the dirt off your feet, and welcomed you right in.
Furor drops his hands in front of his face, revealing the words “Fear” and “Pain” to be written on his knuckles. The madman lifts his head, his cold blue eyes narrowed, seething with a calculated rage as his hands are laid out in front of him. After taking a deep breath, the sadistic Michigander peers down at his palms.
Christum Furor: Throughout my life I’ve had a number of things happen to me. I’ve seen friendships and relationships crumble and deteriorate. I’ve been in constant physical and mental pain, so much to the point that I used to think there was something wrong with me, like God had spited me for some odd reason. I thought I was a magnet for suffering, because everyone who ever came into contact with me, a little part of them died shortly after. I saw myself as a monster, so socially inept and out of place that I was alienated by the rest of society. I used to be afraid to look at these hands due to the horrible things that they’ve done. The blood, the violence, the pain, all of it can be relayed through these hands, Nick.
Furor stares into the camera now.
Christum Furor: These hands are the windows to my soul, and with them I will share with you my pain, Nick Kramer. You will understand my agony. And with that knowledge you will see that heroes are made to fall, turning you into the one thing you’ve fought so desperately not to become… the villain they disdain in every way.
We cut back to Dick & Seth.
Dick Morosi: Christum Furor is a dangerous man.
Seth Ericson: You really think nobody's noticed yet? The worst part is what Cleon Gray did. Cleon is forcing Zack Lifer to face him with his hands tied behind his back. This is sadistic, and at some point, Jonathan Collins or Nicholas Gray need to stand up for Zack. I don't like Zack by any means, but not even he deserves this.
Dick Morosi: That's the nicest thing you've ever said, Seth. Wanna add more to it?
Seth Ericson: ....dicks.
Dick Morosi: Walked right into that one. Let's go to the ring for what's looking to be a public execution.
HANDS TIED BEHIND THE BACK MATCH
CHRISTUM FUROR vs. ZACK LIFERA brief flash of silence passes through the arena suddenly as the stage is beamed on by gold and white lights, the bulbs dimming slightly. Heroic hues floated over the entryway, the ramp and of course the audience, audible cheers as they hear the words of "Alive in the Lights" by Memphis May Fire boom through the speakers signifying one man and one man only.
From the beginning, I knew I was different.
I embraced it, but you didn't.
Your normal life, 9-5, it's just not for me.
I need to feel alive![/color]
As the lights of gold and white beam down against the crowd, searching up the stairs and to the cheap seats, they notice a familiar silhouette. A pop from the fans resurfacing, signs of various positive remarks stretching across the ocean of 'Lifer Addicts' as well as a few anomaly signs that don't fit in with the others. Adorn in a tan colored open sweatshirt, the zipper at the bottom as he made his way down the stairs. A few people reach for a high five however, given the match of the night, he refused without a gesture, simply silently fixated on the ring ahead.
David Zinkus: And their opponent, from Newark New Jersey and weighing in at 202 pounds... He is The New Iron Saint... ZACK LIFER!!!
Don't you see the minds that have changed?
Do you see the lives that have been saved?
Don't you care to see the difference I've made?
Listen closely, the highways call my name.
Don't you see this is my everything?[/b]
Lifer's slow, methodical walking gives way to sprinting, his legs moving him towards the ring down the nearly endless row of stairs before he hops the leather barricade, a running jump that could only be considered impressive, a hint of confidence in the way he moved at a slowed down pace once more towards the steel steps. His eyes dart to the entrance way as he trudges up the few stairs, not looking away as he watches the curtain for just a couple seconds with an intense look in his eye as if in deep thought.
As he gets to the top of the steps, his eyes dart across the arena, stunned by the crowd reaction. The audience gets louder as he climbs the turnbuckle, lifting his right arm in triumph as a single golden colored firework shot diagonally on the stage regardless, the location of its starting point mirroring the top turnbuckle he resided on - Zack now already pacing the ring - as it screeched loudly. cutting across the arena air, another loud pop from the crowd.
Don't you care to see the difference I've made?Dick Morosi: It’s no surprise Lifer is taking the no nonsense approach here. We’ve seen what a determined Lifer can do, we’ve seen how drastically he’s changed over the coming weeks first hand.
Seth Ericson: Shut up, Dick. All the determination in the world doesn’t account for anything with your hands tied behind your back. And this is against Christum Furor we’re talking about, not some rookie. We’re in for a bloodbath!
Dick Morosi: I’m not one to question the matches made in this company, but this? Well, at the risk of getting fired, I’ll only say one thing - this certainly isn’t fair.
Seth Ericson: No duh, Sherlock. But it’s happening regardless of anyone’s opinion, whether they like it or not.
The camera zoomed out from the scene, Lifer hopped back to the apron and then hopping over the top rope effortlessly, his arms stretched out wide for just a moment as if to mock Gods & Monsters immediately after, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.with a literal bang, the firework shooting by swiftly in the background. His chocolate brown eyes searched the excited crowd, a smirk rising to his face once more. He looked confident, more confident than ever before heading to his corner, the sounds fading mid-lyric as he waits for the bell to finally ring.
David Zinkus: And his opponent, he weighs in tonight a two hundred and forty pounds and fights out of Detroit, Michigan. He is the EXODUS World Champion and the leader of GODS & MONSTERS... CHRISTUM! FUROR!
The crowd turns to the entrance way, ready for the second participant in the match - welcoming him with boos and jeers. The lights suddenly dim in the arena; the venue fills with a dark, and ominous ambiance. Those in their seats stand in anticipation, and those already standing flourish their disdain, and soon the arena swells with noise. Now the lights cast only vague silhouettes and shadows - the only source of illumination are the EXIT signs located throughout the setting. Knowing full-well of what's to come, the first few rows of attendance flock to the guardrails near the aisle, everyone turning their heads to the entrance. Only then does the overhead tron come aglow with life, accompanied by the slow, foreboding feedback and guitar of In Flames' single, "The Quiet Place". As the video fades in, the infamous superstar is captured in a mere pose lacking of color - only in harsh white and black values. It builds slowly with a somewhat grim feeling to it, capturing the villain's in-ring composure before the bout itself. Then, as the verse comes in, a spotlight shines on the velvet curtain that veils the entrance way -it soon begins to sway, and is then parted by the leader of Gods & Monsters who comes to stand in full view of the masses. An uproar from the patrons sounds, nauseated and enraged to see the Michigander once more as he outstretches his arms out by his side and tilts his head back slightly, taking in a deep breath to fully immerse himself in the detestation of the crowd.
“Spinning further deeper
I know you're out to try me
I'm not in this to be a slave
I push the dirt
Make me feel
Locate what swallows life
Night bird you build my world”
"..and then I close my eyes
..and then I close my eyes"
Furor is clothed in a black sleeveless t-shirt with the G&M logo on the front, black elbow pads, taped fists, black and red singlet and boots. His hair is wet from a dousing from a water bottle, his chin and jawline stubbed and unshaven. His complexion is rather pale, bitter, or sickly. Rather than his eyes blank and emotionless, they carry a bit of angst, appearing of slight excitement and of mental instability. His lower lip is tightened, slightly wincing, yet his brow contradicts and furrows.
"Judge me now
Used to be afraid to let it show, bow down
A king in my own mind
Everything's in place so much brighter from today"
He reaches the end of the stage, now visible that he carries a steel chair in hand - one of the thumbtack variety. With his arm busy, not to mention his mind racing through depression, violence and a ton of self-interrogation, he simply pauses at the top of the ramp. His head raises an inch, glancing slowly to the left and right, his face bearing the emotionless plague now. Then, he readjusts his hand, continuing down the ramp as the top of the chair slides against the cold steel.
"Drown the monster
Make all bad dreams go away
Whatever it takes to keep your hands free
Open scars, the quiet place
All the bridges fall to the ground and you say you sacrificed"
"..and then I close my eyes
..and then I close my eyes"
He continues his swaggered ‘march of death’, the chair swifting slightly from his lifeless arm hanging off of it’s shoulder. The crowd presents a bumblebee-like jeer, while many remain quiet, knowing that what’s coming on the horizon can’t not bold well for their hero. Either way, they look on in slight awe and apprehension, questioning what exactly the madman has in store for his former disciple.
Dick Morosi: There’s a very evil and ominous look in that man’s eyes, Seth. I don’t like it. I don’t like any of this one bit.
Seth Ericson: Cleon Gray apparently has it out for Zack Lifer, and he’s pretty much served the kid up on a silver platter to Christum Furor.
Furor reaches ringside and carelessly tosses the chair into the ring. He slithers inside afterward, keeping on the plaid cloth for whatever reason. Finally, he gets to his feet, walking over to the camera side ring ropes. He poses in the crucifix whilst the lights return to their normal fixture. As “The Quiet Place” ends, playing the final loop, Furor turns to face towards his adversary. Before him lays a potentially defenseless Zack Lifer, and a plethora of bad intentions. Referee Brian Lowery motions to Zack, prompting the New Iron Saint to step forward, the senior official holding a rope which he reluctantly begins tying around Lifer’s arms.
Dick Morosi: This is unsettling, to say the least. Zack Lifer is completely defenseless here, Seth. Hands tied behind his back, and for what? Speaking his mind?
Seth Ericson: This is all apart of the vision Cleon Gray had when he sentenced him to a year long timeout, Dick. This is certainly going to be hard to watch and… JESUS LOOK OUT ZACK!
Lifer turns around almost instinctively as a clubbing shot across the skull sends him to the canvas. Decided not even to wait for the bell to start the official match, Furor stands over his victim to a chorus of boos hummed from the crowd. Christum brushes a hand through his hair, away from his face, to reveal a hungry, emotionally insane near-sociopath. Not cold, not calculative, but purely insane. Lifer’s head and torso begin to rise from the mat, rolling over onto one side and then his back. Furor stalks around the back of the New Iron Saint, making sure that his former friend and disciple is unable to get in any eye contact with him. Slowly, as Lifer gets up, Furor takes a step back to size him up, then charges in with a boot just as the beloved hero gets up to a knee using just his will alone.
Laying on the mat once more, Lifer’s eyes perk in Christum’s eyes desperately, almost as if to say a silent ‘is that all you got?’ A slight smirk spread across his face, trying to psychologically make Furor believe that he was truly painless if only to tick the false god off with just a mere gesture, his cunning showing through.
Dick Morosi: Is he… smiling?
Furor takes a glance at his steel equalizer, his favorite instrument of destruction resting idly in the corner. He immediately saunters into the corner, grasping it by the handle and lifting it into the air upon making his way back into the vicinity and area that Lifer occupies. The Michigander’s eyes, a mix of interest, and apathy, pan over from the chair to the face of the New Iron Saint. His brow furrowed, teeth bared, Lifer kneels in eagerness, not flinching in wake of what’s about to happen - almost daring Christum to take a swing. Nevertheless, Furor’s face manifests into a wicked smile, as he salivates at the very prospect of hitting one out of the park - the chair remaining eye-level in the tight grip of the cut-throat revolutionist.
Seth Ericson: I don’t know what Lifer’s thinking, I’d be trying to get outta dodge if I were him. It’s almost masochistic. He’s begging to be hit? I don’t get it.
Dick Morosi: And if Furor obliges, he may no longer have a head on his shoulders.
Lifer looks Furor right in his eyes as the tension builds up, Christum taking another glance and finally raising the chair over his shoulder. Zack winces, turning his face in the opposite direction of the weapon, hissing through his teeth.
*SMACK*Sickeningly, brutally, and heartlessly, Furor brings down the chair over Lifer’s head, Zack dropping to his knees evermore from the pain. His body crashes in a kneel, Christum lowering the chair from his vice grip to close in on the Iron Saint. Stretching out an arm, he grabs him by the back of the head, tilting up his face, Lifer glaring out from behind a rapidly growing crimson mask, his lower lip quivering with anger and perhaps a damnation of curses expelling on his assailant. Over Lifer’s voice, Furor speaks, clearly and unaided.
Christum Furor: How does it feel to be the hero, Nick?
With that Furor takes a few quick steps back and charges, lifting his leg and tucking the chair under his boot and colliding with Lifer’s head for a second time in a strange kick-the-chair alteration, Zack’s body again knocked to the canvas once more, stunned, dazed, perhaps unconscious. With Lifer sprawling on the canvas, Furor climbs out of the ring and makes a beeline for the timekeeper, walking the aisle amidst booing fans who each verbally insult the man as he approaches, even going so far as to reach their hands out to attempt to possibly pin him to the barricade. Obviously, they were unsuccessful. Upon grabbing a microphone however, Christum rolls back into the ring.
Christum Furor: Do you feel it, Nick? Do you feel the pain,
my pain? I didn’t want it to come to this, honestly, I envisioned we’d be standing together as Gods of the New Age. You didn’t want
that future. Instead, you choose to be a sycophant, dedicating your life to sheep who only accept you when it’s convenient. You want to be their hero, the one they look up to in times of weakness and sorrow. You want to be a symbol, and a beacon of hope. As a GOD I pity you.
The crowd begins to chant the words “you’re not a God” methodically, a poetic stride to their little song as they rained down hate on the man who spoke, the camera panning to several fans themselves to some faces that were just plain mad to others who were disgusted.
Christum Furor: Listen to them, Nick? I stand before you in pain… my head hurts as it pulsates with a menagerie of thoughts and feelings, yet they cannot feel my sympathy. Why is that, Nick? It’s because they enjoy it, even if they don’t want to admit it. Every week we stand in this ring and we fight until the last drop is spilled. We bleed week in… week out, and suffer physical and emotional scars and for what, for
them? They pay over and over again to simply stand in attendance for that moment that peeks their excitement… to see the blood drip down our bodies… to see us destroy ourselves… smiling, laughing and applauding as we cut our lives short for the sake of selling tickets.
Furor stares down at Zack who still writhes in pain, finding it difficult to pick himself up.
Christum Furor: The disgust is sickening… watching these maggots give their hard earned money just to watch us dig our own graves… nothing unlike the coliseum of Rome. They crave violence, they find joy in it… the pain and suffering excites them! And you call
me, the bad guy? It’s almost deja vu for me, Nick. They drove my own brother against me because he wanted to be their entertainer, and here we are again, me standing over you, another puppet in their play. They sit there like killers and dare to fuel the fire as our brains become scrambled. Why, Nick, why do you bleed and kill yourself slowly for
them? For their amusement! So, I ask you… when will it be enough? When will enough blood be enough to satiate these bloodthirsty psychopaths? Their wolves… vultures… sadists… watching happily, licking their lips as the crimson escapes from you… even now… as I tear your flesh from bone.
Furor stares out at the crowd now, his eyes burning with an inhospitable rage as Lifer begins to stir. The crowd never calms, their eyes watching intently and yet listening to every word uttered underneath the blarings of the mass of humanity all voicing their opinions - some with signs and some with their vocal chords.
Christum Furor: These are the people you want to protect? They’re no better than Jonathan Collins, than Nicholas and Cleon Gray, and every other deviant in this hate-filled business. We’re expendable to them, Nick. These people care for you just as much as they care for
me. You’re only good to them when you’re allowing them to validate their pathetic lives through your pain… your suffering… your blood. And when it’s over and you have nothing left to give, they forget you. All of your contributions become null and void, and everything you’ve done inside and outside of this ring becomes inconsequential. No. Nick Kramer will become a relic of the past, an afterthought, despite everything he gave. That’s your fate. That’s the fate of EVERY man in this company, and this business. We’re merely tools used to make people rich, to make people feel like they matter. They scream, hungry for blood and you oblige. You give them what they want. YOU’VE PAID THE PIPER!
Furor sneers down at Lifer, sadistically, yet there’s a clear look of empathy hidden in those eyes of his. Hastily, he begins lifting Zack up to his knees; the New Iron Saint is unsteady in this position, his body trembling slightly due to the loss of breath - yet he composes himself enough to blow hair from the front of his bloodied face to offer his rebuttal, thus changing the disposition of the San Diego crowd in the process.
Zack Lifer: Those fans… They pay for everything we have!
There’s a look of disbelief in the eyes of the Michigander as Lifer responds, his words somewhat slurred as his brainpan continues to assimilate the damage it’s already sustained.
Zack Lifer: Those fans are why we’re here, why this place exists! You deny that? You… You disagree with that assumption? You… have the choice to be something else, something less dangerous, something REAL! You have the choice to be whatever you put your mind to. You have the choice to do whatever you see fit and you blame them for YOU volunteering to join a profession you ultimately strove to join on your own!?
A good portion of the audience begins to cheer, Furor shaking his head in dismay as his disciple offers more of his two cents.
Zack Lifer: I’m covered in blood and even I know they’re not laughing, Gunner. They’re not applauding this. They’re not sadistic like you make them out to be. They’re watching in awe as we put on a show, do things the average man can’t do. That’s what we’re here for. After we’re gone from this scene, after we leave the wrestling world by force by the heavy hand age deals us all, they WILL forget me! They WILL forget everything I’ve done as the years wind down pasted my death but you know what else? Your message? Your idiotic plea for attention? It’s just as worthless! We joined this business to entertain these people! So what if we get a few bruises every now and then?! So what if we get a few irrerasable scars?!
Lifer eludes to the scar on his neck, the barbed wire massacre of the past still prominently etched into his skin, into his DNA. It was a part of him now, a part of who he was.
Christum Furor: BECAUSE SOME SCARS NEVER HEAL!
The madman snaps now, landing a crushing blow with his forearm right into the Jerseyan’s forehead - then again, and again, Lifer now dropping back down to the canvas. Christum kneels down beside him now, frantically running a hand through his hair as Zack tries to regroup.
Christum Furor: Some scars stick with you for the rest of your life… some scars cause you to forget who you are, distorting your reality, making it impossible for you to see what’s real and what’s not, and as the facade becomes bigger, more intricate, the real world becomes that much more invisible. When you lose that identity, you do things that go against everything you once believed in… WHEN YOU LOSE YOURSELF… THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU GET LOST IN THE SHUFFLE… sometimes they get hurt… or WORSE… and THAT PAIN REMINDS YOU OF WHO YOU ARE… but it’s much too late then… NO! BY THE TIME YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE… YOU’VE GONE SO FAR DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE THAT YOU FEEL OUT OF PLACE IN THE REAL WORLD!
Lifer nudges up back to a knee, only to sent back down from a swift kick to the temple, a loud negative pop from the crowd once again.
Christum Furor: And once THAT happens, you become insane, and THAT madness gets you blacklisted, gets you vilified and hated to the point that the very people you were entertaining hope for your demise, to the point that the people in the back who smile in your face secretly plot your downfall… TO THE POINT THAT THE FEW FRIENDS YOU HAD STAB YOU IN THE BACK! THAT wound will NEVER heal Lifer… no, that’s a souvenir I will keep for the rest of my life… the little token of appreciation you gave me for trying to liberate you from the illusions, for trusting you, and accepting you for who you are.
Furor seethes in frustration now, trying to regather his bearings and composure, whilst Lifer struggles yet again to get up.
Christum Furor: You question why I’m a wrestler, why I choose to come out here and give my blood for their amusement… it’s because you don’t understand the game. You still believe that these fans push you, that they support you, that you’re some hero to them, someone they can put their hopes and dreams in… you’re a fool. They don’t fuel you… they
control you. You’re a marionette. I refuse to let anyone pull my strings. I refuse to be told how to think. Instead, I go against the grain and established order, upsetting it with a controlled chaos that pisses on all of their unwritten rules and regulations. I am not bound or indebted to them. They do not OWN me. I own THEM. I take a microphone, I utter one syllable and their entire lives are made meaningless. A year ago I turned their white dove black. I brought the Seraph down, made her bathe in the darkness, and showed them that she was no hero… just like what I’m doing to you. THAT’s power. THAT’S GODLIKE POWER.
Lifer, albeit unsteady, is back on his feet now, although he looks like a strong wind could take him back down, or at worse, another chair shot could render him braindead.
Zack Lifer: Godlike power?
He echoed the words, breathing heavily in the face of his tormentor, a slight chuckle leaving him even through the red blood that covered his features.
Seth Ericson: How is he still on his feet?!
Dick Morosi: Say what you will about his character, but nobody can ever question this guy’s heart! He’s willing to stand up for what he believes in and this crowd can’t keep their eyes off the scene that’s unfolding in front of us!
Seth Ericson: His hands are still tied. This can’t possibly end well. He needs to stay down, take the pin. Playing the hero may just get him killed out there.
With that, his hands still tied behind his back with rope, his eyes behind the mask as inviting as ever, lining up another insult to the man who caused him all this pain, ignoring the consequences, something that caught the attention of absolutely everybody who saw the event backstage, the blood itself dripping down his chest slowly and pooling softly on the mat below.
Zack Lifer: Is that why Lasie beat you?
Furor’s face curls into a bitter scowl now in response, Lifer almost poking fun at the madman’s defeat months ago.
Christum Furor: And where is he now? Gone. The Morning Star, vanquished, something YOU couldn’t do.
Lifer looked him dead in the eye, his expression as serious as he could possibly make it, a dangerous look in his eye that told Christum he wasn’t kidding around any longer.
Zack Lifer: I didn’t attack Lasie before his match like a coward! I did
everything in my power to take him down and you know what? I LAUGHED in the face at his Four Card Trick! I kicked out of the Unforgettable Fire! You can’t say that, can you? You can’t say you stood tall after everything he threw at you until he resorted to letting out the monster inside. You just can’t take the fact that your ‘Godlike power’ is insignificant if a mere mortal can do it better than you ever could.
The crowd pops again, previously near silent as they listened to his every word. The facts he stated were the truth, regardless if Christum would acknowledge it or not. Furor takes a deep breath, the expression on his face undergoing a metamorphosis now. The deranged look is now complemented by a maniacal smile.
Christum Furor: What I did to Andreas, that wasn’t cowardice. That was power, a power that I unlocked when I freed myself from the chains of morality, a power
you don’t possess due to all those ethics and codes that you adhere to - rules that blur when you see fit, yet rules that you can’t break due to some misguided notion of right and wrong. And that’s a power that
you will bow down to. You WILL kneel before me, Nick Kramer. Bow down to a GOD… to the NEW AGE… for
their entertainment. ENTERTAIN THEM NICK! DO IT FOR ISABELLA! BOW DOWN TO ME BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T PROTECT HER… LIKE YOU CAN’T PROTECT YOURSELF. BOW DOWN BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT!
A tense moment passes, the crowd holding on by a thread as they desperately look on, hoping that their hero does not give in to the madman’s demands. Suddenly, Jay-Z’s voice can be heard, heralding the Death of Auto-Tune;
Only rapper to re-write history without a pen
No ID on the track let the story begin, begin...
BeginDick Morosi: NO WAY!
Seth Ericson: The Risen Star… Jimmy Riley himself! I don’t know what to make of this, Dick.
Indeed, Riley swipes away the curtains, stepping out onto the stage of the RIMAC arena for the first time since he announced his premature retirement. Cheers are mixed with buzzing of whispers from those in attendance. Riley walks down the ramp, holding a microphone in hand, a look of confusion and bewilderment on the face of Christum Furor as he doesn’t appreciate being interrupted. Sliding into the ring, Jimmy stands in-front of Furor, a serious look in his eyes, yet one of both caution and concern.
Jimmy Riley: Furor, if there’s one man that knows what you’re going through, it’s me. We’ve had our battles in the past, even going as far back as the UWL. We’ve been in the same place, Furor. Wondering if it’s it all worth it, the constant question about whether or not everything we do when we step into that ring was ever worth it.
Furor shoots Riley a scowl, gripping the steel chair in his hand with a cold malice, looking like he might swing wildly at any moment.
Jimmy Riley: Hell, I had to retire because of things I did in
this ring, because I didn’t want to end up in a wheelchair or worse. But did I enjoy the ride? Hell yeah. Did I do it for these people? Hell yeah. This business has not been kind to us physically or emotionally, but it’s how we deal with all of it that defines who we are. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. There’s always a choice.
Furor’s eyes begin to squint, and it appears that some of Riley’s words are beginning to sink in.
Jimmy Riley: We have a choice, Furor. We can choose to let these demons take us, or we can deal with them and do what’s right. And you can do that, right here, and right now. You can walk away from this moment. You can drop that chair, and you, Lifer and I can all walk out of here together. You don’t have to deal with the pain on your own anymore. I know the wisecracking guy who dressed and talked like it was still the 70’s in there somewhere. That’s the real you. NOT this guy. This guy who wants to hurt people.
Christum looks from side to side now, appearing to be having a crisis of identity.
Jimmy Riley: Just give me the chair, Magnus. Let it go. Let the hate go.
A look of remorse falls over Furor’s face as Riley’s hands protrude to take a hold of the top of the chair. The tension in the air becomes tenfold as the audience isn’t sure what will happen next, each on the edge of their seat. Part of him refuses to let go, yet another part seems to allow the madman to give in to Riley, the voice of reason trying to talk him off that perilous ledge in the recesses of his mind. Jimmy is offering him a hand, salvation from the psychological turmoil, and the look in his eyes shows how genuine he is. Shockingly enough, Christum releases the chair, looking at his hands in fear as he surveys the crowd. They’re speechless. Riley nods, focusing on Lifer now who is in desperate need of medical attention whilst Furor slowly makes his way to the ropes.
Dick Morosi: I- I- I can’t believe it, Seth! Riley talked some sense into him. I’m shocked! I’m more than shocked!
Seth Ericson: The word you’re looking for is dumbfounded. If I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t believe it. I still don’t, but-- NO!
But just on the drop of a dime, Furor turns around and ambushes Riley, taking him down from behind before laying into him with a series of stomps, much to a helpless Lifer’s chagrin. Christum kneels down to grab the chair, his face void of any empathy, filled completely with a cold malice as he begs Riley to get to his feet. Jimmy does, prompting Furor to lay into him with the chair, driving it straight into his abdomen, the Risen Star’s frame bending over the chair and Furor’s arm. His mouth wide open, stunned, as if he had been shot, Riley leaves himself open to a swift chairshot to his spine, sending him to the canvas in obvious pain.
Dick Morosi: NO… NO… this man has lost it! Riley is no longer a competitor. He’s an ambassador, Seth. What does this prove?! What does he gain from this, a heinous assault on Jimmy Riley?!
Seth Ericson: It’s no secret. They’ve never been friends. Furor tried to end his career once before, and you better believe he knows about Riley’s bad back. He’s trying to murder the man. They’ve got to send somebody out there to stop him.
Christum begins hyperventilating almost as he looks down at Riley, his eyes widening with malevolence as he begins to hoist the chair overhead - looking like nothing will stop him from furthering his assault until Lifer yells out at him, halting his momentum.
Zack Lifer: THAT’S ENOUGH!
The Michigander swiftly turns to face Lifer, the chair hanging over his shoulder as New Iron Saint tries to plead with him.
Zack Lifer: Jimmy has nothing to do with this. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me! You hear me, Furor! Hit me! HIT ME! You leave him alone, let him walk out of this ring like nothing happened, and focus all that anger on me, not him! DO YOUR WORST!
The entire arena goes silent, helpless to watch and nothing more, awestruck. Like the true hero, Lifer is willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his new friend and supporter. Furor mulls over his decision, then suddenly charges forward, swinging the chair vociferously. The steel instrument slices through the air to careen across the side and top of Lifer’s crown with a violent ruckus. Zack’s body goes motionless from the concussive blow, yet his inert frame does not influence Furor to stop his assault. Christum screams bloodcurdlingly, as he brings the chair down across Lifer’s inanimate carcass.
*CRACK*CRACK*CRACK*CRACK*CRACKCRACKCRACK*Finally, Furor tosses the chair to the side, stumbling into the ropes upon making the final hit. All he hears is the apprehensive silence of the crowd and the moans of his former friend and ex-partner as he looks over, straight into Lifer’s eyes, a shocked, or stunned, or inhuman expression plastered across his face. Christum’s eyes dart ahead of him, as ring attendants and referees come chasing down the entrance ramp. Christum is immediately separated from his victims before being forced to do a 180 and exit the ring. Still, by now the damage has already been done, and whatever measure of satisfaction gained as the leader of G&M makes his way up the ramp.
EMTs in white collared shirts with a small red cross logo prominent against the background. They encircle Zack Lifer, concern on their faces as they watch the broken body of his continue to bleed, continue to leave a small pool of blood behind his head and into his hair from the cut on his forehead..
Dick Morosi: He… Sacrificed himself to protect Jimmy Riley, an EXODUS legend. He did it for all these people, every single one. I… don’t know what to say, Seth. It’s unbelievable. This whole ‘match’ has been unbelievable…
Seth Ericson: In a way, it’s ironic. The next show is a pay-per-view. Absent Are The Saints. And… I don’t think The New Iron Saint is going to be ready to compete on that night. Not after that.
Dick Morosi: He made the sacrifice. He knew exactly what he was doing. I don’t think that matters too much to him. All that matters is that he stood up for what he believes in and nobody can take that away from him. We sincerely wish a speedy recovery for you, Lifer. Our prayers are with you.
With that, Zack had already been carried onto a stretcher, men and women of all kinds carrying him up the ramp slowly, the crowd looking on in terror as they expected the worst. The arena remained dead silent, their footsteps making their way up the ramp at a slow pace. That’s when the unbelievable happened, the crowd gasping as they witnessed what was happening.
Dick Morosi: He’s conscious!
His eyes opened underneath the mask, darting around to see the men and women carrying him to the back. He peaked his head up, still in a daze, He witnessed something, a dead on stare into nothingness for a brief while, almost as if he were listening to someone, before Lifer started to fight on to get away from that stretcher and find Christum Furor once and for all. He tried to shove their hands away, tried to push their faces in the opposite direction to try to get some room, trying his best to find some space. They held him down, many individuals pressing into his arms with open palms in hopes of keeping him still, whispering things about how he needed to stay where he was and just relax.He shouted something, shouted as loud as he could to those who oppressed him, freeing himself from their grip with strength alone. He slipped away from their circle, stumbling to his feet uneasily with a pop from the crowd, Zack lazily standing at the center of the ramp while the medics and the workers as well as anyone who witnessed the event stared on, their jaws dropping as they witnessed his heart in all its glory.
Zack Lifer: I’M! STILL! HERE!
He barked the words as loud as he could, shouting the words so even the people in the cheap seats could hear him clearly, watching the scene unfold. That is, until he fell to his knees, trying his best to walk up the ramp on his own that only left him unconscious once more, his face turned to the side as he watched over the crowd, a silent smile on his face before shutting his eyes once more, the medics and the workers bringing him back into the stretcher, strapping him in this time so he had no hope of trying the same thing a second time. On this note, we cut to commercial
WINNER: No Contest
