Since arriving in Ebwf,Vampiro has proven himself to be the most feared wrestler on the roster. Orton, Batistia, John Cena, Mark Jindrak,Hurricane, Jeff Hardy,Matt Hardy,Scotty 2 Hotty, and Edge all the ones feeling the wrath of one Dark Angel who is determined to fight his way back to the top of the mountain, but first this Tuesday at Raw proves to place his problems against christian and taker on hold with the fighting of shannon moore for his LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP. Shannon, has yet to meet someone of Vampiro's wrath. Soon though...he shall know The Dark Angel isn't taking any shit from anyone. Tuesday...is Shannon's judgement day.
.·‡| Scene 1 |‡·.
Sometimes I hate doing interviews.
I hate them.
Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.
Hate.
I hate them.
Vampiro:Well maybe hate is a strong word. I mean afterall, hate is one of the most powerful words in the English language (like it or not). People say it all the time, not quite understanding it. But using it's real meaning, now that's a different story. Using the essence of the word truly, meaning it in that moment in time with all your heart and soul, now that's devestating. We talk about being the most devestating wrestler ever? Nothing could ever do anybody more damage then hearing the one they love the most, or even their best friend, utter the words, 'I hate you,' and truly meaning it. Even if they regret it later, those words still hurt. They sting. They burn you. Get under your skin. They freeze then shatter a part of you (most often your heart), and then they walk all over those broken pieces as they lie in a dissarayed mosaic on the floor. Those three words. Those three little words. They really mean something. They really hurt. Especially that one in the middle of them. That one word describes an emotion that is rarely felt (if ever) during one's lifetime. It's a word that is often used, but seldom meant from the core. So, getting back to the point, perhaps that one word, that one destructive emotion, 'hate,' is the wrong word to use to describe my feelings about interviews. Or promotions rather. No. I don't hate promos; I dislike them strongly. Very strongly. I dislike the planning that often goes into them. I dislike the time that is usually wasted watching the television closely and thoroughly to find any and every hole in your opposition's own interview. I dislike wasting my time to disect what is usually a slew of empty and unoriginal threats and promises. I dislike using my time to think up innovative and original places to do my 'promos.' Because, I mean, come on. Think about it. There will rarely, and yes, I do mean rarely, ever be a truly original interview-slash-promotion. Everybody, even me, says the same thing. Time and time again, we say the same thing, over and over. There's no escaping it. There's no running away from that fact, there's no hiding from it. But what entertains people, what really entertains people, is when one person says those same repetitive things in a way that is friendly towards the camera. Or, rather, not friendly, but captivating. When someone can keep the attention of the audience at hand and captivate them, that is where the entertainment comes in. Taking something of somebody elses' and using it as your own with modifications, that can go over. People will like it, even if they've seen it before, if it is done well. And that's the key. Doing it well. So, sometimes I hate (yes, I'm downgrading that word to mean 'dislike') the time and energy it takes to do things well (if not greatly). I dislike having to wake up, or having to stay up, and stare at a camera...Or multiple cameras, and tell somebody how much better I am. Especially when I know that I'll dominate them in the ring. Yes, sometimes I hate interviews. Sometimes I hate doing promotions. Sometimes I'd rather be doing other things then fulfilling my contractual obligations to the Ebwf. But, that's only sometimes.
Only sometimes.
Right now, if you haven't guessed, is one of those times because the Ticking Timb Bomb is in a Fowl Mood and somebody will pay for that and it shall be shannon moore who shall pay that price tonite at raw!
The scene opens in rain. Not a torrential downpour as has become common place, but a steady falling of raindrops from the heavens to the earth. The kind of rain that reminds you of an endurance runner. The kind of rain that makes you think, that makes you hope, it will last all day. The kind of rain that gives you that comfortable, or is it lazy, feeling. The kind of rain that falls from grayly overcast skies as the sun struggles to escape from behind a thick blanket of wispy, gray, ethreal matter to free the earth from that dulling that comes as a result. The kind of rain that falls when everything is tinted gray (or some shade of grayish blue) and all the color around seems to have lost it's shimmer. Seems to have lost it's sparkle. Indeed, the color around us is dulled. The deep greens of the leaves hanging on old and tangled Oak-tree branches that form a sort of gnarled, aging canopy above us seem to have lost some of their luster. The dirt isn't a rich brown, but instead a shadow of itself as rain drops fall, mixing with the dirt, splashing upwards in mud. Yes, the scene opens in rain, but the type of rain that sets a mood. That leaves an impression with you, at least for as long as the day lasts. The scene opens in the type of rain that makes five minutes seem to last for ten, ten minutes for fifteen, fifteen for twenty, and twenty minutes for an eternity.
Vampiro sits alone on the fourth row of a four-row section of bleachers nestled comfortably beneath the Oak-trees and facing outwards towards a soccer field. The bleachers are set just right so that if the usual sunshine of a New Orleanian spring or summer (hell, add in Winter, it's hot down here until at least Decemeber) were to be in the air, there would be a nice abode of shadow in which to keep one out of the sun's direct glare. And perhaps even save some hapless person from any excess heat the humidity would bring with it. During the spring and summer months, it's cool beneath this bleachers while the players out on that soccer field run around in the often uncomfortable heat in the pitch of atheletic competition. But here and now, no sun shines. No glare falls from blue skies bringing with it some of the quickest tanning U.V. rays on the planet to add to the already almost unbearable humidity. No, rather, a lone, dark figure sits atop the fourth row of that four-row set of steel bleachers, the Oak-trees providing a leaky canopy from which raindrops come even heavier then they would should they have just fallen from the sky. That soccer field on which children and grown men alike play fiercly upon is nothing more then a swamp, the earth in this below-sea-level 'paradise' already supersaturated with water. If one were to step out into that marsh, they would be at least ankle deep in water and mud in an instant. Puddles of water are set around the Oak-trees in the bleacher area, some beneath the bleachers' themselves, some resting behind them;all of them little calm lagoons disturbed every so often by the fall of a thick raindrop escaped from the heavy canopy of gnarled branches overhead. Here, the raindrops, the sounds, the very essence of time itself seems to slow down as we come nearer to this darkly clad figure, providing almost a snapshot of the familiar prescence. In fact, for a moment there is a sound of a click, like the soft snapshot of a camera, and we get a side view of him frozen in black and white on the screen for what seems like minutes, but in actuality is at the most, ten seconds
Vampiro sits, clad entirely in dark atire. His knees bent, resting on the third row of the bleachers where the bottoms of countless parents have been. His head is bowed, long, dark hair hangs down, covering his face slightly. From this still, we see he is clad in dark pants, the fabric not really disconcernible, only knowing that it is loosely tailor-fitted. Not too big, not too small. Perfect. It molds around his knees, giving slack, what some old folks would call baggy, but what is not baggy at all. A tight black icp shirt, the sleeve length not clearly visible (but one could make an educated that it is long, because to be frank, it is kind of chilly out) due to the jacket he wears over it, conforms to his lean and well physiqued upper body. The fabric soaked through, sticking to his torso, the definition of his abs able to be seen. He looks atheletic. Skinnier then most, but not too skinny. His pale white skin contrasts greatly to the dark clothes he wears and that flowing trenchoat he wears for a jacket, the tails hanging over the back of his seat. His face seems just the slightest bit fairer in our photograph, his cheeks accentuated by darkness. Dark circles around his eyes. Dark lines lining his lips and eyes. Those eyes which we can not see through that touseled main of hair as his head hangs bowed. This is the snapshot we gather from this ten-second still. The snapshot of a lonely and cold heart. Of one who holds himself in the darkness. Who wrapped himself in it a long time ago and has not let go, not even for a minute. Not truly. Not ever truly.
Suddenly things go back into motion, even if that motion seems slowed because of the atmosophere provided by mother nature on this day. The rain continues to fall in its montonous and everlasting rythm. Everything seems glazed over in a sort of gray, dulled down. The color quality of everything seems to have been drawn out, the footage sort of gritty, realistic. And now we are only a short distance away, perfectly capturing the essence of him. The darkness that rolls out from him, the leaks forth from his soul and outwards. And from the moment he speaks, we know who he is. His voice. That deathly voice.
'Still trying, moore?'
It's the voice of Death. The voice of The Dark Angel Vampiro. Now, it's just him and the camera. Him and you. And he continues to speak to that camera from the side view, his head still facing foward, us to his side, his head still bowed, his voice coming dark and heavy.
Vampiro: Still not convinced? Are you still not convinced moore that I can kick your ass in the ring time and time again? Are you still not convinced that I have what it takes to beat you? Are you still not convinced, 'moore? Are you truly still not convinced that I am real. That I'm not some washed up has been, as you seem to think I am, but a young, clear and present danger to you; Each and everytime you dare to challenge me. Are you still not convinced that I don't have what it takes to pin your shoulders to the mat and come away with the victory? Are you so wrapped up in your own ignorance that you are still not convinced that I have what it takes to defend my title, and myself, aganist the likes of you...Or anyone else who dares to challenge me? Are you really still not convinced that I am not some gothic guy who spouts off without meaning, but a clear and present threat now. I'm still young moore. In fact, I'm one of, if not the greatest in this federation. I accomplished more here in Ebwf then you have in your entire wrestling career. Are you still not convinced that I'm wrestling on more then a name, but on talent? I mean, come on. Obviously I have to have some ability, right? I mean, after all, I did beat Jericho. Would've beaten him again in any other match, if he didn't quit. But I guess that means nothing. You act as if that didn't even happen. And I know what you'll say about it. You'll tell me that it was a fluke. That he was distracted. You'll tell me that you're the real deal and that you can take care of me in the ring. Hell, you'll tell me that I dont' stand a chance aganist you, espcially with Taker breathing down my neck. You'll tell me everything that anybody else would tell me, and then I'll laugh in your face. That's right, I'll laugh in your face, and then I'll tear you apart.
Vampiro:I'll rip you apart, piece by piece. I'll disect you mentally. Physically. In and out of the ring. When I'm done with you, you'll have no more doubts. I'll penetrate even your thick headed, narcissistic, egotistical little mind and make you realize that you don't have what it takes to beat me. You never did and you never will. The fact of the matter is: you think you have more talent then you really do. In reality, you're just another high flyer with some technical skill. Did I get you right. Or wait, maybe you're a power hitter. To me, it really doesn't matter. You're no more talented then the next person. Well, maybe you're more talented then your former boss, you know, Mcmahon, but then again; That's not saying much, is it? You think you have the good looks to make the camera love you, and hell, maybe you do. I'm not one to judge another man, wait, excuse me, child. Since you're constantly talking about how your the young talent...The future with his entire career ahead of him. But you seem to forget something, I'm not some old man simply wandering around. I'm not Taker. I've not been in the buisness forever. I'm not an old man, hell, I'm probably not even your elder. Go find out how old I am. I've accomplished more then you have up to this point. I've accomplished more in a few years then you'll ever accomplish. I hate to dredge up the past, but since others seem so fond of doing so maybe I'll just follow in their footsteps., let me enlighten you. I have been the most domianting superstar here in Ebwf in the last year. I have been two time ebwf light weight champion,world champion and ic champion. I have the longest regin of any champion in fed history,I have held this lightweight title for 8 months! In one year I accomplished more than you can ever dream of in Ebwf. And that's just one federation Shannon. That doesn't include my others that I have domiated and ruled.
Vampiro:You dwell on the fact that I have a dark persona. You try to exploit it. But you're not smart enough too. Don't be like christian, don't take a little dig at me. I'll rip into you, just like I am now. I'll kill you. Maim you. I'll return everything unto you threefold. You're ordinary. You operate on your looks and some small pool of mediocre talent that you were lucky to be born with. But you have no skill. At least it won't aganist me. You tend to forget, I work just as hard as anyone. I work harder. I always, and I do mean always, find a way to come out ontop. I never sit back and let somebody take it to me, Shannon, never. No, the fact of the matter is, I'll beat you one on one on Tuesday, and then there will be no doubt in your mind as to how much better I am then you. On Tuesday, I will not be distracted. Taker and an christian could come down to ringside and it wouldn't make the world of difference. I'm not intimidated by that tired old man and that jerkoff who has my title. I'm not scared of his little 'peep crew bitches,' or whatever they want to call themselves. I mean, you should know shannon, that I'm not scared of anything. I'm not scared of you. I'm not scared of taker. I'm not scared of this entire bloody federation . But the fact remains that the entire Ebwf roster is afraid of the Dark Angel! I am the most feared and most violent wrestler to ever grace a Ebwf ring. And Shannon after I am done ripping you apart I am gonna end taker's career here in Ebwf once and for all then get back my title that christian has right now! Because taker and christian are both marked men! They shall be the next to be destroyed by the sick deranged Dark Angel!
Vampiro:'You make digs at me, I welcome them. They're just another challenge for me to overcome.
'
'Another field in which I can prove my superiority.
'
Shannon 'I'll lay into you for everything.
'
Vampiro: 'Call me gothic, I'll find something about you, such as you seem perpetually attached to a man at all times, and exploit it.
'
'Oh yeah. It's not wit if you have to point it out for it to be noticed Shannon.
'
Vampiro: God, I love getting under people's skin. There's nothing I love more. They all try to break me down. All of them. They're all the same. They all try to say the same things to me over, and over, and over again. They all try to insult me in the same way, calling me a 'Gothic'-something or other. They try to get inside my head, try to tell me that I'm just another morbid persona in the sea of professional wrestlers. They try to tell me that I'm no different from the rest. That they'll beat me. That they'll destroy my 'tired old gimmick.' And yet, none of them can. None of them. Nobody here has done it yet. Shannon you sure as hell won't. He's no more original then the next person. He tries to pick apart what he sees of me. He tries to dissect me, just like everybody else tries to. They try to pull me apart and understand me, and then use that understanding to get underneath my skin. The funniest part is that they all fail. And not just slightly, but they fail miserably. They're all tired. They're all the same. They can't come up with new material, hell, since I've been here, I believe christian is the only one who ever came close and even then I'd heard all of that before. Not quite in that manner though. No, never anything as amusing as the pathetic excuse for an Insight he taped.
He hasn't moved, save for that grin that slipped into place on his face just a few moments ago. He's still the same. Head bowed, knees bent, looking down. But now something changes. He looks up, out across the soccer field, bringing into view those cold and calculating gray eyes. Those steely orbs stare out intently across the marsh of the swamp, watching as the rain continues to fall, not letting up, nor increasing. Watching as it falls steady. Constant. He watches as it seemingly never endingly pours down from the heavens. And we are now at a front-side angle on him. The same side as before, but just a little more to the front, so we can see as those intense eyes seem to stare off into space. And then, he continues to speak.
Vampiro:But now, you're probably thinking about telling me that you don't need an army to defeat me. That you don't need Taker. That you don't need Christian,or anyone, at ringside with you to pull out a victory. You're probably thinking about telling me that I'll be the one who needs the army come Raw. That I'm the one who will have to depend on outside help to make it happen aganist you. That I have no chance in hell to defeat you unless somebody, and you'll probably pick Hall because that's the only person you've ever seen me associate with, comes down to the ring to aid me. And then, I'll tell you once more that you're, everybody together now, wrong. I don't need help to beat you and regardless of whether or not you do have help, I'll still win. But you probably think I'll have to rely on Hall to beat somebody as talented as you. I mean, come on. Hell, if you've done you're research you'll see why Hall and I are such good friends. But you're average. I don't expect you to do any research. That's beyond wankers such as yourself.
'
'Oh, bloody hell. I said wankers.
'
'Are you going to try to make some subtle insult towards me about my usage of words?
'
Vampiro:'Now go back to your tired and boring little diatribe. You know, that pathetic excuse of an Interview that you'll air as an Insight. Go back to your little front of a show and try to prove me wrong. Try to dissect everything I've said. Try to take it apart and use it your advantage. Go back to your boring and overdone interviews and try to spit in my face. Try to cover up the mental raping I just disparged unto you. Try to come back at me. Try to tear into me. Try to sink your teeth in, try to get your hooks into me and pull out a little bit of skin. Just a little bit. Try to draw some blood, Shannon. Try me. Come back and tell me everything I don't expect you to say. Come back and say something that I can't come back to. Tell me something that perplexes me, that mentally tears and eats away at me. Do something like that, shannon. Try to break me down. You'll only fail and your end result is a NAIL IN THE COFFIN!
'Just like everyone else.
'
God, my mind is racing a mile a minute right now. So many thoughts. So many feelings. So many different emotions. Everything is speeding by in a blur. It's like I can't focus. I really need to start getting more sleep. I'm so tired right now. So very tired. My body is yearning to go back to my bed and sleep through this rain. And I can't lie to you, I'd love to do that. There's something about the rain that has always made me feel either really lazy or really invigorated. It all depends on what kind of shower that decides to rain down on that day. Right now is one of those rains where I feel really tired. It's like the weight of the world is on my shoulders right now and while I know I'm not going to buckle (I'm not even close), I still have to bear it and shrug it off. I can do it. I've done it for this long and I'll continue to do it. It's just the way to live my life. I'm pretty Stoic. Yeah, that's what they used to call me. Stoic. I don't dwell on things that happened, bad or good. I like the good. I relish it. But I don't dwell on it. If life throws me a twist, I just take it and move on. That's really all you can do, right? I hate people who dwell on things like that (unless, of course, they have a good reason). Wait, what did I say earlier about hate. I don't hate them, I dislike people like that. Or at least I dislike their view point on life. You can't changed what happened in the past, so deal with it and move on.
Focus on what's ahead of you.
Focus on what's ahead of you.
Focus.
Vampiro glances to the camera for just a split second and in what seems like a split second, he winks. A mischevious, devilish little wink. Probably directed at shannon. Maybe at Taker. His outer expression not portraying any of his inner emotions. His expression is stoic, the same as it was earlier. It remains the same as he stands up on the third row of those steel bleachers he was perched upon. He looks down now, those fierce gray eyes staring deep into the camera. Cold. Calculating. Penetrating into our core's. They can draw fear and insecurity with just one glance. And he uses them to their full potential (or at least half) at this moment.
Vampiro: Now for you Shannon. I'm not going to spend much time today on you and your psychological profiles on me. I mean, that's basically what you did last time I saw you on television. You tried to psychologically profile me. You tried to get under my skin. I know that's what you're trying to do. You're trying to be like everyone else. You think you can get under my skin, don't you Shannon. You think you can break me down and dissect me to perfection. You think you know what's going on inside of my head. The truth is, you don't. You'll never be able to break me down. You'll never be able to fully understand me, shannon. Maybe I truly am unstable, like you say. So what. It just makes me that much harder to figure out, doesn't it. You don't have the keys. You don't have the answers. You think you do, just like everybody else whose ever met me. But the fact is, the painful realization is, you don't. You don't know me, nor will you ever truly know me. You may think you do. You may think that you understand me. That you can break me down mentally. That you can get me to let down my shield. You may think that you have something of meaning to me. That you're really inside my head. But you never will be.
'
'You never will be Shannon.
'
So don't even try. Don't try to get under my skin this week. Or the next week. Don't bother trying to sneak attack me. I'm not scared of you. Nothing you can do can take my mind off of my match for this upcoming week at raw. Or distract me from extracting me revenge upon christian. I won't lose focus. I won't allow myself too. You'll try to make me, but just like always, I'll fight through it. And I will win.
'
'I will not lose my focus.
'
Vampiro looks out over the marsh of a soccer field now, eyes intense. Focused.
'I will not lose.
'
A pause.
'I will not.
'
Silence. The sound of rain falling. And then...
FADE.
~scence 2~
The scene opens to the room with the electric chair that Vampiro has been sitting in over the past few days. No longer does he sit there, though, for in the background, we see Vampiro lifting weights. Behind him, many candles light an area of the room that we can not see until the camera gets closer. Vampiro is positioned so that he faces this area. Above him is a poster of Shannon. Surrounded in a glow from the candles, is another poster of Shannon and Vampiro, where they stood face to face for there Raw match. Vampiro continues to lift the weights until it sounds like his very breath is being taken from him, then the weights come up and sit on the bars. Vamp sits up and a shean of sweat is covering his body. Vamp turns to the camera, and wipes the sweat off of his face with a towel before speaking
Vampiro:"It is good to see you shannon. Good to see that you are just as I thought you were, determined. Focuses. Prepared. The things I would expet from you so far have come true. Now, it is just a matter of hours before we meet in the squared circle, to see whos destiny is the stronger one."
Vampiro's red eyes burn into the camera, a look of seriousness displayed on vamps face
Vampiro: See shannon, there are alot of people I want to prove this too. But you are the one on the top of my list. I don't need to prove anything to myself, and I really don't need to prove anything to anyone esle. But you, you have continued to plague my thoughts, to shadow me, always there to throw mocking words in my direction. I'm not good enough you have said. I'm not a true champion, I'm a paper champion, the list of what you have said to me goes on. They are etched in my mind, burned right to the very core of my existence. And the fact that I am a time ticking time bomb it fills me with a hate for you like none other that I have had. But now, now a true difference does exist, and look into my eyes shannon, and you will see it is true."
Vamp stands and walks at an eerie pace, almost floating along the floor, as he makes his way to the electirc chair and sits in it. The camera manuvers and positions itself in front of vamp, taking in his face and his face alone. Vamp stares at the camera, as his speech is now deeper, more sinister sounding then before, but still as serious
Vampiro:Do you see it shannon. You should. You see it every day, everytime that you look into the mirror, you see it. It is your spark, the very essence of hatred and rage that fills your inner soul. And the closer you get to a sinister act, the brighter it gets. And as you can see, my is a blaze. I will not waver this time shannon. There will be nothing to stop me this time, for the condemed have no reason to fear punishement. And that is what I truly am shannon, the condemed. If I can not defeat you this week, then it will be obvious to all that I am finished. You are not only my enemy, but my next victim. The next soul I take. Either way you look at it, the truth is the truth. There is no other joy I get than making someone bleed and feel my pain! I am the Time ticking Bomb of Ebwf you never know what I shall do next or who I shall leave a bloody mess! You have no clue what sick world you are entering shannon!You have never faced a deranged maniac like the Dark Angel who can end your career here in Ebwf in the blink of an eye! You will find out why I am the most feared wrestler come raw and you can bet my queen of darkness will be at my side! My circle of Darkness shall soon add a new member and we shall unleash a new twizted dark era worst than my Nwo! So this is a warning to the entire Ebwf you better beware because the Circle of Darkness is coming and soon will engulf Ebwf in Darkness!
Vamp's face softens and takes on a sad look as he speaks
But what of the consiquences? What will happen if I lose this match? It is hard to say. So much is happening now, I don't know what I will do if I lose. In fact, truth be told, I am not prepared for that."
Vamps face becomes even more serious then before in the blink of an eye
Vampiro: Because I am prepared to win this match. Not to only stop you from your dream, that isn't it. But to fullfill my own. To prove to you that I am worthy of the title that I have held for 8 months, to prove to you that I can get the job done. If I have to go the limit, then so be it. If I have to bury your ass in the cement, in the ring, or in a car trunk, then it will happen. One way or the other, I will prove to you that I am capable of wearing that title with not only pride, but with the deserved respect that comes with it. You will see shannon, you will see. I am going to do more then nail you with my hate shannon...."
Vampiro grabs the camera and pulls it forward, with only his eyes coming into focus
Vampiro:"...I"M GOING TO GIVE YOU THE NAIL IN THE COFFIN!"
Vamp shoves the camera back and it flips over, showing the top of the ceiling. When it flips back down, Vamp is gone, though we did not hear his boots clicking ont he cement. The camera visible shakes as the laughter of Vampiro echos from the darkened parts of the room. The camera starts to retreat from the room, fading to black as it does.
~SCENCE 3 METAL HOSPITAL~
Vamp sat in a holding cell. He just sat, staring at blood stained rust colored walls.
He played the conversation that he had with the demon over and over in his head, the ache in his head got exponentially worse every time he tried to figure out this whole situation.
He still didn’t under stand, he didn’t want to understand, he wanted to stand up, and walk out of this nightmare; he wanted to walk out of the Asylum.
But the shock wouldn’t let him do that. The shock of roaches crawling over him, and inside him, the shock of being forcibly moved to the cell by a demon that was more machine than man; His face was covered with a gas mask, that was wielded to his skin; it breathed hoarsely filling the small cell with the overwhelming sound. As he stepped closer to Vamp, more of his figure was revealed to him, pieces of black leather has been burned to it’s skin, and the exposed flesh was mostly metal, only a few specks of humanity showing between the straps, the last bits slowly being devoured by his machine side. The struggle of man versus machine was painfully evident in the way it moved, its movements were forced like it was being torn between his it’s halves. Now he was here and the whisperers had returned, but now screams have joined them. Vamp sat in the Asylum waiting his fate.
The demon walked down the main hall that connected to all the areas of the asylum. It was often referred to as the center-point.
The demon was not heading to any of the many holding cells that filled the place; it was going to the main chamber, the chamber that housed the leader of The Asylum, the leader of the world, and the maker of all, the God that dwells in Hell.
Vamp finally got to a standing position, but it did not help him at all. He still had not one idea of what to do, he didn’t know what time it was, and how long he had been down here, or even where “here” was.
Vampiro: Was I in heaven? Was I in hell?
He asked himself even thought he knew very well that he wouldn’t get an answer. That fact infuriated him infuriated him to the point of violence.
Vampiro: Were am I?
he screamed at the door. The sound of his own voice was foreign to him. He struck the door with his fist
Vampiro: where!
he struck it again.
Vampiro: where?
he hit it a third time, with this blow a new feeling came to him, a feeling that was stronger and purer than anger, he felt this way before, he felt it when he killed his brother and again when he killed his lover, this feeling was hate.
The demon walked to the end of entrance point and was met by a pair of tall metal doors, each door had elaborate designs carved into them. It waited in front of the entryways until they opened with a loud creak.
The demon walked through an opening just big enough to fit it. As soon as it disappeared the doors loudly slammed shut.
Inside the room was black, surrounded by impenetrable shadows; the demon’s footsteps echoed off in the distance, it walked straight on until it reached a small altar, surrounded by blackness.
The demon wore a long leather outfit with many buckled straps. It had long black nails, which it used to slice its own wrist, the thick black blood dripping upon the altar’s surface.
The altar absorbed the black liquid as if it was drinking it, this was the sacrifice needed to summon its creator, and the creator of everything, the entity that the humans call the Devil.
Demon: What are we too doing with one new addition?
The demon called out to the shadows,
Satan: The man named Vampiro! The hatred in his heart is extra, even legendary
the voice filled the dwelling. It continued,
Satan: I want him to be one of us
Demon: He is but a human...why do you want him?
Satan: My motives will not be questioned!
Demon: Why did you create these worthless creatures?
Satan: They were to be a lesser form of demons, a mortal form, I gave them the earth it was meant to be a paradise, but they ruined the earth, now I will take it back
Demon: Yes
was the Demon’s response.
Satan: Now bring him to me
Vampiro tried to block out the voices in his head; he built a mental wall made of songs, poems and memories. Good memories bad ones, it did not matter at all, he wanted to tell us anything that would dull the pain.
His thoughts drifted off into the past, a subject he spent a lot of time daydreaming with.
Memories came flooding back, the conversations with hundreds of people, the taste of a thousand meals, the scent of a thousand places. The remembrance of a thousand lies and a thousand deaths.
Anger welled up within Vampiro. He had hate for God.
God took his mother away from him. God took his father and he took his own brother! All of them to forever bask in the darkest pits of their own hell.
Now Vampiro sat in the cell of the Asylum. But now there was a new hate, a hate for skitzo, his brother, and he had no doubt that he was there in the Asylum with him somehow..someway…still haunting him after all this time.
A sound interrupted him in his reminiscing. Someone was opening his door.
The door shook violently and then swung open, and the metal-machine demon stepped in.
Vampiro recognized this demon as the one that dragged him to the cell. There was no life behind its eyes, which meant it probably, did not speak, but Vamp still asked
Vampiro: Who are you?
The demon cocked its head to the side but quickly dismissed the question and grabbed hold of him.
He was drug down many dark corridors; too many to commit to memory. Except for one room that stood out from the rest, one room where he didn’t hear the whispers, one room where he didn’t hear screams, a room that he appropriately dubbed “the quite room”.
It was the most peaceful room he had been in since his arrival, but it was as equally visually grotesque, human bodies lined the walls, some sewn to it, their serene visages forever preserved, while others were wrapped in white sheets and hung from the Ceiling, fresh blood still dripped from their feet.
The room was more long than tall, spanning the distance of about 50 yards.
By the time it took him to digest what he just seen Vamp was already being lead to the exit, back the screams and back to the whispers.
He arrived at center point. The demon pulled him up and shoved him forward than quickly took his leave.
The Dark Angel had found himself looking down a long hallway and at the end was a set of double doors, that bore elaborate designs carved into them, upon studying them, he discovered that the designs met to create a winged demon, who appeared to be bound by strange straps.
If that image reflected the kind of things that awaited him on the over side those doors, He wanted nothing to do with it. He looked over his shoulder for any kind of escape, but the door the entered from had long since closed.
He felt distressed like a cornered animal with no place to go but forward. So he pressed on toward the double gate way, each step he took echoed off the walls and back to him, that coupled with his breathing were the only sounds he heard, he found the latter more frightening.
Vampiro thought the doors more intimating up close, the carvings seemed more organic that the metal it was shaped from, but before he could study it any longer the doors opened just enough to let him through. All he could see was blackness beyond the crack, throwing caution to the wind, he walked in, and the entryway closed behind him.
As soon as he was in the room two things appeared in front of him. One being a small altar, the other was the Stitched-Face demon that brought him to the asylum; the former looked harmless next to the to the menacing eight foot tall thing, it had a black fluid dipping from on of its clawed fingers and some slowly flowing from his wrist.
Vampiro: Why doesn’t anything here answer me?
he inquired referring to the metal-machine demon.
Demon: The one that brought you here is beyond words now, his torture has made him something else that what he was, we call these things " The Nameless "
Vampiro: You mean some of you used to be human?
he questioned further.
Demon: Of course
it sounded as if it would smile if its mouth were not sewn closed.
Vampiro: I don’t get it, I thought God created you first!
Demon: He did, only a few select humans have enough hate to become one of us, and you are one of them
he said, still amused.
Vampiro: Why are God’s children, based on the emotion of hate?
Demon: Its not as you think, actually it’s the purest form of emotion all emotions are based on it
Vampiro: I don’t believe you!
Demon: I don’t care if you do or not, now we will begin this
in a smooth lighting quick motion, the demon traveled the distance between them and now had a hold of Vamp’s wrist, holding it over the altar, then with one of its clawed fingers cut it winning a scream from Vamp’s lips.
Blood splattered on the altar, running down the red silk covering, slowly before the red liquid could run off the end of the altar, it disappeared.
Vampiro: It’s drinking it!
he said horrified.
Demon: Yes
the demon, said taking pleasure in the suffering.
There were plain white candles around the altar and their flames ignited as soon as the blood was absorbed, they intensified and then went out, leaving Vampiro alone in the dark. He was in tears on his knees, clutching his wrist, like a wounded animal, praying for mercy. But he did not know whom he was praying to, because it finally sank in; God was doing this to him.
This rekindled his anger and refueled his desire to get up and face his destiny.
Vampiro: Who are you? What the fuck do you want from me?
Satan: I am your creator!
said an immense voice that seemed to fill the boundless room.
Vampiro: What do you want?”
he questioned, not a bit taunted by the voice.
Satan: Your help
Vamp was shocked by this answer, but he dared not show it.
There was a long silence, Vamp took this moment to calm down, the voice continued
Satan: that was my mistake I gave you free-will, you have to decide on your own if you want to help me take the world back or not
Vamp: How?
Satan: You are the missing link, the link between the firsts and the humans, you will be our portal to earth, to my world
Vamp: I will question you no longer..save this…where do I start?
There was a long pause before the answer bellowed out through the dark room..
Satan: Destroy the taker! Finish what you started once and for all! The forces of Hell cannot reign until the chosen one…The Dark Angel rises above this so called…Gathering and completes the blood cycle of The taker! This is your battle and you are the general of Hell’s armies…use them my son….use them.
Vamp looked down at his hands and noticed that suddenly, they were covered with blood from both wrists being slit somehow. He started to grin..and then broke out in a menacing laugh of wickedness.
Vampiro: I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT! I SWEAR IT! Taker will never know what hit him! After beating his ass and handing it to him, he has yet to see that he has been defeated. Like a filthy fucking cockroach he creeps back for another chance. His life is all about failure..and he will forever suffer in hell for it. He will walk amongst his failure…and he will open his eyes when all is said and done and see that the death of his friend….belongs to him and him alone.
He turned to walk out of the room...
After a few moments he opened his eyes to see that he was stuck in a padded room, but the metal door, usually slammed and locked was wide open. He paused for a moment and then chuckled....then giggled...then broke out in horrific laughter as he spread his arms and the straight jacket came undone falling to his knees. He rose to his feet and leaving a trail of blood from his slit wrists walked out of the cell and down the corridor of the asylum. The entire staff along the way was mutilated giving him a straight path towards the metal door to the cells. The Dark Angel shoved it as it flew open. He stared for a moment and continued to laugh as blood poured from his mouth and ran down his bare chest. He walked right out of the asylum and fell to his knees in a pool of his own blood on the driveway of the now defunkt hospital.
Vampiro: I swear it! I swear to you that Taker will finally see...he will finally see what is to become of him.
Lightening flashed above him as he continued to laugh..and laugh..and laugh...
