375 Day's and Counting Oct 9, 2016 12:10:38 GMT -6
Post by thewarchild on Oct 9, 2016 12:10:38 GMT -6
One may know how to gain a victory, and know not how to use it.
Pedro Calderon de la Barca
I’m unsure of how to approach Armed and Dangerous. Well of course I’m well armed. I think I’m still classified as extremely dangerous, why else do I have to alert the authorities when I move? Damnit Journal! that’s not the point I was trying to make. I want to hate Silverhammer, I want to destroy him like the fake and fraud he is, scampering in to take the championship that belongs to Chaos. I want to Journal, but I can’t. I can’t hate something that took the opportunity presented and capitalized on it. For to do that I’d have to hate myself, for I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. But this time there are no distractions, no innocents. Just him and me, Journal, and the will to answer a ten count.
But that is the issue Journal, I don’t respect the meat sack as far as I can throw him, and I’ve proven that I can throw him as far as I want. But I can’t ignore his bulldog like determination to be a pain in my arse. I beat him to qualify for the Quest for the Case event, that I wanted nothing to do with mind you Journal. Ever since then he’s sunk his teeth into my white rear and hasn’t stopped following me as I’ve taken on world champions and their contenders only to leave them wanting. English, Ryder, Slater, Stacy, and JMC, all stepped up to face a girl they thought playing at battle, and were met with the warm, cruel, and brutal embrace of WAR. I’m well aware that Goldie had a hand in two of those matches Journal, but in the same time he’s only had one, ONE, match I haven’t been a part in. If I was that obsessed with someone, I’d be able to seize an opportunity to take what they wanted, especially if I was merely an afterthought to them. Too bad for Silverhammer I learn from my mistakes, and Journal, trust me I won't count him out this time.
No one believed in me while at ACE, in GPW I was perceived as nothing more than Goldie's tag along. Now with her atop VoW's throne, I've the opportunity to prove her shadow, is nothing more than that, Journal. Silverhammer can fight for his fans, his pride, hell for the love of the competition, whatever he needs to sleep at night. I fight because it's all I've ever known, and I enjoy the rush I get from pain. That is why the I4NI championship is meant for me, why it calls to me, why Silverhammer will suffer at my hands. He thought winning the belt would validate him, all it did was focus my gaze upon him instead of looking past him like any other sheep in the flock.
Don't misunderstand me, Journal, I'm taking him as serious as I would English. But English was believed a God and he felt defeat under my fist. Silverhammer is still untested as a champion, and lately I've been eating champion meat for breakfast. Now I will give credit where credit is do, the man has balls. He keeps showing up like the cockroach he is and proving you’ll have to take his head in order to keep him down. First he made it a point of replying to you Journal, way back before Breakthrough Forty-eight. Then, after managing to beat the bottom of the barrel, in regards to VoW’s locker room, he claimed it was a close contest going into that drivel Quest for the Case match. Thought he put up a good fight even though I made it crystal clear I didn’t care one way or the other, and once again came up short. Finally, he insulted me by calling me a liar going into the I4NI match. I know, I know, Journal, isn’t the first won’t be the last, but it always bothers me. If I didn’t lie to the officers and the judge about what I did to innocent people, why would I lie about something as trivial as someone getting in my way?
It’s more than just perspective Journal, it’s about integrity. Even as twisted and insane as I am, I pride myself on being honest. It’s not because I can’t lie, or don’t like to, it’s the fact that what is more painful, more haunting, than the cold hard truth? Journal, I beat him one on one, I beat Slater one on one, and Elskerinne one on one, since taking on my sisters. For the love of Tartarus Journal, since taking on my sisters the I’ve lost three times, one to Ryder, for underestimating the idiot, but he’s long gone, the quest for the case match that I openly mocked, and lastly to Silverhammer, something that I need to avenge. I proved to Constance that facing me twice was a bad idea, same for Zahara, Ryder, and my sister Strife, Silverhammer will be no different. I’m no liar Journal, I’m no lackie, no stepping stone, and for damn sure, I’m not the girl you make your name off. I am War, I leave corpses and am Hell, those that forget it are doomed to a fate worse that Death, and she's the World Visionary Champion.
Emma Carlisle: Or are you still allergic to the truth? Let me show you what the truth looks like, once and for all, so there’s no question of where I’m coming from and what you’re walking blindly into.
Such beautifully cold words, from the most wonderfully complex woman I know. Able to sit on her own grave to deliver a message, and while she may be talking to Stacy, only my love would know just the words to make me reflect on something Shields asked me before we left on this little trip of self discovery. I can hear his words still echoing in my head all the way across an ocean and still as disrespectful as he had said them.
Opeare Shields: How long are you going to keep this charade up Joanna?
He quickly clarified before I flattened him, but those words, the implication … only two men have ever caused my blood to boil so quick. One Goldie cleaved his head before taking his crown, the other I plan on doing the same at Armed and Dangerous.
Opeare Shields: I reread the report, you had no such bloodlust, no such love of violence, when you were arrested. You admitted you did not mean to do it, but nothing about enjoying it, relishing it. So why claim to love and adore pain?
Even if he wanted to continue I didn’t let him, I couldn’t let him. The implications he had invoked required silencing, I have never been a liar, and Shields knows it. So for him to think my love of pain is a charade, well it makes Goldie’s question about truth bring this all back. I can’t focus on her hair, her grace, her power as she dissects Stacy. I’m too lost in my mind.
Joanna Thade: I’m going to keep this simple for you Shields. That event, that tragedy, was where the last shred of hope died for Joanna Hade. As I’m sure you noticed the report still holds my FATHER’S last name. Toad Road, that pit of torturous abuse and depravity, turned the girl with faith, and hope, into the nightmare she feared. That place is where I learned if you want peace prepare for war, and the only peace I ever got in there was when I proved I was the superior fire power. This charade you think is nothing more than an act, which I should rip out your spleen and feed it to you for insinuating, is what that place made me.
The look of terror as I made a threat that he knew I meant, and I delivered with the emotion of the grave Goldie just slid off, will never leave my mind. Much like the image of Silverhammer standing in the ring with his hand raised in the air, because of me. I can’t and won’t forget that imagine, not until I make it right.
Emma Carlisle: You know who I fight for, Stacy? Who I will fight to the end to defend this title for?
A rather stupid question in my opinion Goldie, but I’ll leave you to your message. I’ve my own to consider. One for the most recent undeserving champion, much like the last, VoW has produced. Maxwell Soloke, a man that must step into the ring with me, after calling me a liar, not once but twice.
Shaking my head does nothing to remove the memories from my mind. Shields rebuttal silenced as I gripped his throat and lifted him off his feet. I can see his fear, his shock, at the force that was in front of him. Would Silverhammer have the same look in his eyes during our match? No, no, Maxwell will expect my fury, my rage. It won’t catch him off guard. He’ll have planned for an onslaught, expecting to either our maneuver me, or weather the storm.
Joanna Thade: I’ll give it to the sheep, he can wrestle
Knowing Goldie’s too consumed by her own message, I let the words be taken by the wind, as I step farther and farther from the hallowed ground and into the night. The look of joy, of surprise, and of relief on his face as the referee handed him the championship. The sour taste of defeat, blood, and disappoint are things I’m familiar with, but will never enjoy swallowing.
No, that image, him standing with MY championship, after insulting my integrity and proving that my own hubris is my greatest weakness. That image, has joined several others that make sleep difficult. Goldie knows it, Shields knows it, I know it, but none of us can change the past, or the pain that nightmares and truth bring. That shall be my message Silverhammer.
Joanna Thade: The painful truth, of provoking the Nightmare that is WAR.
The feed crackles to life, but takes a moment to adjust to the lack of light. From the angle we can see half of the moon and the stars that fill the night sky. The sound of gravel under heavy boots is the first thing to snag our attention before the camera slowly turns around. Blue hair sweeping across her face at the behest of the wind, Joanna Thade looks upon her phone’s camera, with only the moon and a set of headlights behind her for light. A small crooked smile on her face, as she walks down the simple dirt road in her combat boots, ripped black jeans, her own VoW shirt, and a studded leather jacket, to keep her warm. Each step carries the sound of purpose, and while her smile is small, the wickedness in her eyes travel through the simple recording device and into the viewers very soul.
Oddly unarmed Joanna tilts her head to the side as she looks into the camera, before giving a little giggle and biting her lower lip. Her tongue appears for a split second as she looks away for a moment. The bobbing of the feed stops as does the crunch of the gravel. Standing still Joanna turns her gaze back to the phone in her hand holding the feed, before she speaks in a bone chilling playful tone.
Joanna Thade: There’s something special about Armed and Dangerous. Something I’ll always hold onto, and the fact it’s been three hundred and seventy-five days since last years is amazing when you think about it. One year and some change, since my first message to the sheep of VoW, and Chaos has it’s biggest night yet. Strife searches for a new sister, Death defends her crown, and I …
Joanna pauses as she closes her eyes and bites her lower lip again. Holding her breath, she moans at the thoughts in her head, before opening her eyes with a look of pure bliss.
Joanna Thade: I get to take the I4NI Champion, and prove that while he may know how to steal a victory he didn’t earn, he doesn’t know how to use it. Silverhammer, Maxie, you may have issued your own personal war against my sisters and I, but trust me you won’t survive this WAR.
The horsewoman uses her free hand to point to herself to make sure there is no mistaking her meaning. Manic smile in full force Joanna continues as she holds a single finger in the air and lowers her head a bit.
Joanna Thade: Though I do have to thank you, Maxie. You keep managing to find ways of entertaining me, as well as reminding me that, as a mortal, I am flawed.
She pauses to let her statement resonate with those of us watching. Raising her eyebrow she giggles a bit at Gods know what inside her head.
Joanna Thade: I know such a surprise. But Joanna, we’re all flawed. What’s that saying? To err is human to forgive divine?
The Warchild’s mocking tone is all but impossible to miss as her smile and joy at her own wit are only overshadowed by the full unblinking gaze she has upon the camera. A cross between her usual unhinged and tilted look of sadistic enjoyment, and wholly focused and bloody passion.
Joanna Thade: Good thing I have no intention of being divine then. Maxwell you have something that’s mine, and while you may have issued the challenge of last man standing, I think I’ll take it back and leave you in a pool of your own blood. It’s not just the title I’m after at Armed and Dangerous if I’m being honest, Silverhammer. You called me a liar, and then solidified your point off my hubris, that was your first mistake.
Taking a moment to literally bite her tongue, Joanna, unnaturally, measures her words. Taking her time and letting each point hit as if it was delivered by her, now absent, hammer.
Joanna Thade: I am many things Maxie. A survivor, a victim, a murder, a warrior, a Warchild, War itself. But I...am...not...A LIAR!
Gone is her playful smile, and in it’s place is the unrelenting look up sheer bloodlust. Veins bulging under her skin as her eyes twitch. But the most unsettling thing is as if by her will alone, the wind stops as she looks upon her prey in the lens of a camera.
Joanna Thade: Insult me however you wish, say my view of the world is wrong or diluted, claim I’m off my rocker, any of those I can understand and I’d shrug off without a second thought. But you, oh you...you had to go and find not just a falsehood, but a falsehood that I take exception to.
Physically shaking as she holds back her anger at the subject, Joanna clenches and unclenches her free hand, draining it of it’s already little pigment. Silence threatens to fill the feed, except for the low hum of a car engine. The headlights in the background haven’t moved since Joanna stood still and started her message, but it’s low hum was enough to keep the Horsewoman aware of it’s presence, and those within it.
Joanna Thade: Goldie may be defending her title in the main event. She may have crossed the sea to put an end to her own nightmarish past. She may hope to solidify her reign as champion on October fourteenth in Washington D.C. But come Armed and Dangerous, Maxie, all people will be talking about is the beating I give you. It won’t be a lucky opening and a quick count, it won’t be someone else getting involved, no we have to brutalize each other until one of us can’t answer a ten count.
Pointing back at the pair of headlights, Joanna mouths “ten count” to reiterate the truly baffling manner that her match will be decided by.
Joanna Thade: Even VoW’s world champion can’t keep me down for that. Hell she couldn’t keep me down for three when she had two people to help her. At Breakthrough fifty-one, you weren’t even in the conversation where I was concerned. You were just some cockroach I had failed to squash, yet always found your way into the same matches. And with my attention focused on what I considered the legitimate threats you stole a victory, and delivered a blow I know you are unable to even fathom.
Dropping to her knees the Warchild shakes her head. Rocks embed themselves in the exposed flesh the rips in her jeans fail to cover as Joanna takes a few deep breaths. Unphased, the Horsewoman slams her fist into the ground to court her bloodlust and anger, earning a small trickle of crimson liquid. Her blood hair acts as a curtain as her words come out shakily restrained.
Joanna Thade: I...am...no...liar. I...hate...you. But...I...WILL NOT...underestimate....you...AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME MAXWELL SOLOKE?!
Turning her head up to flip her hair out of the way, the lens of Joanna’s phone captures the raw emotion none but the Warchild can invoke. Her face is beyond flush as tears of blind rage pour from her piercing green eyes. Never has hatred be given such a perfect expression. Digging her bleeding hand into the gravel, the sound of the very earth surrendering to the Horsewoman’s desire is barely audible over the engine’s low hum.
Joanna Thade: You may have out wrestled me. You may have proven you know how to win when it counts, which is more than I can say for myself. But we’re not having a wrestling match, we’re have a match made is hell. No disqualifications, no count outs, no submissions, no quick pins, no interference, just you and me, Maxie, and the will to survive. I may have to hold back to make sure I don’t put you in a body bag, but that’s the issue isn’t it Maxie? You challenged ME to a match where I can literally beat you until I get bored.
Whipping the tears away, Joanna smears her blood across her cheeks and giggles at her own line. Shaking her head Joanna motions for the car to approach as she slowly rises to one knee.
Joanna Thade: Silverhammer, I’ll give you the credit you’re owed. You took advantage of the opportunity presented to you, you proved you’re more than just a sheep in the crowd. But now that you have my undivided attention, you’ve proved you don’t know how to use the edge you earned. You’re a champion, with championship advantage and you throw it away, just because I insulted you?
Up on both her feet Joanna lets out a loud chuckle as the car pulls up right behind her. Holding a hand to halt its advance, Joanna pulls the camera closer to her face, so that the glare doesn’t blind her viewers. Now the same distance Maxwell kept in their interaction at breakthrough fifty-two, the feed can see the glint in the Warchild’s eye.
Joanna Thade: You want to beat me down. You want to cement yourself as a threat. To prove you’re not some transitional champion. These are your words Maxie. You want to ram my insults down my throat? I can think of something more fun but okay. At Armed and Dangerous you get your chance. I want you to bring the fight me to Maxie, like Slater did before I made him tap. Like Stacy did before Goldie and I proved our tag prowess hasn’t changed with her success. Like my sisters did when I asked them. Bring the fight, bring the chip on your shoulder Maxie, for as you capitalized on my flaws last we met, you laid yours out for the world to fuck when you challenged me.
The sound of a window lowering breaks Joanna’s stream of accusations. Even with the feed nose to nose with the Warchild we can easily make out the distinctive markings on the maul of her weapon of choice as it is handed back to it’s master. Joanna extends her arm with the phone as she closes her eyes and takes in the power and relief Hephty gives her. Warhammer in hand, Joanna’s words hold more conviction and stability than before.
Joanna Thade: Let me give you a quick history lesson Max. One year ago, Goldie and I began our twisted journey of cleaning the decaying monotony that plagued the halls of VoW’s locker room. Allow me to illustrate the gravity about how much has changed since Chaos was introduced to VoW.
Opening her eyes for the first time since holding her weapon, Joanna looks at the feed with a bowed head and twisted smile. Turning so that the car is no longer in view, Joanna hands it off to someone in the car as she grips Hephty with both hands. One more deep breath, from the warchild, before she brings the head of Hephty to meet hers with a disgusting sound as speaks the names of lost visionaries.
Joanna Thade: Kincaid! Heath Williams! Slick Williams! Duncan McAlistair! Calvin Harris! Alec Rose! Stu Fish! Tyron Bickerton! Zakk Morris! Seifer Black! Shay McClure! Cera! Dathyn! Ryder Blade! Scarlet Flint! And Casanova English!
The Horsewoman stagers on to stay on her feet from the force of the blows. She has to plant Hephty into the ground just to stay on her feet as blood pours from the wound she inflicted upon herself with her illustration. Gasping for air Joanna spits blood onto the gravel to clear her mouth before she continues speaking.
Joanna Thade: All either gone entirely from the locker room or on their way out, since this very event last year. Same company, same pay-per-view, same championships, ENTIRELY different landscape. And this Maxwell is what you face, in your quest to legitimize yourself to a world that only cares about you for the few minutes you let them escape their pathetic lives.
Blood continues to coat War’s face as she holds her arms out, in a gesture to allow her opponent and all of us watching, what exactly Maxwell Soloke had challenged. Half her face a crimson mask, Joanna sends a shiver down the spine of those of us watching with a twinkle of sadistic joy in her eyes and her crooked smile returning in full force.
Joanna Thade: You see Maxie, you called me a liar. You said you wanted to prove me wrong. And you admitted to me and the world that this match is about your own fears of self worth and image. This isn’t a wrestling match, this is a god forsaken funeral of your pride. The title may as well say blood for the blood god, and skulls for the skull throne, because you’re fighting for your spot in the locker room, and I’m fighting to beat your talented, yet, delusional, narcissistic, run of the mill brains in, in order to line the pockets of people that just want a bloodbath.
Lifting Hephty out of the gravel and resting him across her shoulders, Joanna shakes her head in response to the reality of the situation. Looking up at the moon overhead, her blood twinkles off her face and Hephty.
Joanna Thade: A talented wrestler, with his future ahead of him, against a force of unrelenting cruelty. Maxie, you could have gone the rest of your career without running into me again, and you’d have cemented your legacy. I’m the sideshow freak that wrestles for the pain, you’re the guy that wrestles to inspire, why in the world would you do something this foolish?
Looking straight at the camera Joanna’s face as soften. Still leaking blood from her forehead, the Warchild looks sallom as the words flow from her lips.
Joanna Thade: Maxwell, most of the time, I like to point out how diluted my opponent is, how corrupt or misguided, how blind they are to the world around them. I feel pity that people are slaves to the society that wants to use and abuse them before tossing them aside. But for people like you, people that continue to not only just go with it once they realize how cruel the world is, but double down and strive to prove themselves to everyone when really they just need to prove it to themselves. People like you I can’t even muster pity.
Joanna shifts her gaze to the ground and nods to herself. Slowly and methodically she lets the silence build as the weight of her words, and her body language leave few to doubt her conviction and dedication to her final line.
Joanna Thade: People with every God given talent and ability needed to succeed, but can’t stand to look in the mirror because they are such a slave to the self hating society we’ve built. You may have called me a liar, but I can look in the mirror and love what I see. And I’ll love it even more in seven days, after Armed and Dangerous, when I have the I4NI title over my shoulder.
Quickly extending Hephty to its full length, Joanna points the warhammer at the camera and looks down the shaft. Winking at the camera, Joanna pulls her weapon back before swinging it like a gold club and watching the imaginary ball soar through the night sky.
Joanna Thade: I’m locked, loaded, and ready to hit a hole in one with your head Silverhammer. You’re wrestling and need to prove yourself, against my love of pain and need to prove I’m no liar. One that believes the world can be his oyster if he puts in the the work and validates his place in the locker room, as well as in society. One that knows this is just a show for those too weak or beaten down by the very same society to escape the cruelty of life that is the constant war of self hatred.
No disqualifications, no interference, no submissions, no count outs, no pins, no one to save either of us from the brutality we will inflict on each other. You bring your skills, I’ll bring my twisted sense of fun, and let’s dance one more time before I have to carry your half dead carcass to victory in the Third Eye Open contest. Maxwell Soloke! Joanna Thade! Last Person Standing! When the blood dries, and the lights go out, I promise you three things Maxie. One, you’ll never call me a liar again. Two, neither of us, nor anyone watching, will be the same. And Three, you may have earned your victory, but I’ll show you how to use it once this is over.
Joanna drags a finger across her throat as the feed fades to black.