Post by Damian K' on Mar 16, 2017 18:33:03 GMT -5
The fall, to the onlookers, looked horrific, but they didn’t have the perspective that Damian did. For him, the fall dismantled everything that he worked hard for. The scaffold was higher than he originally believed. Below him, concrete became his only virtue, the stopping point in his descent into agony. Upon the scaffold, his former student and his former bodyguard looked down on him. Their eyes filled with irreverence for his existence. The sight burned into his eyes, before crippling darkness took away his sight. The sound of an awful crunch resonated louder than all the crowd’s jeering.
Waking up in the graces of the infirmary ward, Damian looked down to see the intense discoloration of his shoulder. He tried to move it, but it was to no avail. Even worse, remnants of pain traversed through his system, causing his eyes to widen. The sheer pain that evolved in each second took something more out of Damian. He didn’t need a professional opinion to alert him of his new injury. Each muscle in his shoulder tore apart as the misplaced bone tried to maneuver around. The movement of his arm was a miracle but it became a grim reality as he bit down into the pillow next to him. Doctors screamed at him not to move; he could cause further damage to it. He relinquished himself to his fate, but he cursed the world every time he felt the pain.
Six months, they said. The half year of recovery time became a living nightmare for Damian. He could only lay around the first few weeks, pain medication wrapping him into a lethargic shell of his former self. The worst of it was the lonely aspect of his rehabilitation. The first week, he sat alone inside of his home, forced to watch the transpirations of the outside world. In PWA, the company where he reigned supreme, he saw a new World Champion be born. He saw his worst enemy, a man he kept from the gold, take everything for himself. He cursed himself, for not being there to stop the man’s ascension. Finally, he saw his former student reign as the most dominant person on the roster. She took his legacy and made it her own, all by trying to plunge him to his death.
Anger proved itself to be more painful than motivational. The next weeks were him making the effort to try to move forward. He brought himself to the next PWA show, where he announced his injury and his return time. The audience cheered him, a reaction he never thought to here. That night became the moment he found his motivation to not just recover, but to progress. If he was the most dominant man in PWA, then he would come back stronger than that man. When he could move his shoulder, he began to train relentlessly. Each day, he felt the guttural anger blurring his vision, any ounce of pain did not deter him.
Yet, his dreams of a triumphant return fell to the wayside. PWA closed, leaving him without a place to go. With the idea in tatters, Cameron resigned to completing any post-injury rehabilitation. However, to him, he lacked purpose to move forward. The injury to his shoulder and to his mentality healed over this time, but he felt an insatiable hunger. While he stood by, he lingered on the thought of if his career was over. During the time of his recovery, he found himself in a new state of affairs. He found love, hope, and a new distance from his earlier lifestyle. He was content. So, what did he need to go to OCW for?
He signed the contract, and sat back waiting for his first booking. However, the latent hunger began to eat away at him. The lethargy that he faced day by day kept eating away at his psyche, tearing into the soft veil that kept him from what he wanted to be. He wanted to win, he wanted to continue his streak of dominance, and he wanted to make an impact. He needed to. In a company enriched in history, such as OCW, one must do well to engrave themselves in it. As he sat idly by in his home, he thought of what ways he could do so.
An opportunity presents itself to those who are patient. In his waiting, he researched. A computer screen told him the knowledge of his new environment. Alice Knight stood on top, but she had a worthy adversary that encroached on her constant success thus far. She was not Damian’s target…yet. No, she couldn’t be, due to the proximity of everything. Damian’s chance of progression came in the form of another match, a unique one.
The Oh Shit match, it is a concept that Damian couldn’t wrap his head around. The vulgarity of its namesake, followed by the rules? Yes, Damian was baffled, but it’s the obscure environment that he chose to be in. The prize, however, gave way to his deeper research. If he wins the Oh Shit match, then he will be able to challenge any champion that he wishes that isn’t Alice Knight (or MJ Bell). His eyes wandered to the Savage Champion, the Ascension Champion, and Paradigm Champion. Hell, he even thought about the Tag Team Champions.
The obvious choice was to go crack The Incredible One in the jaw. If Damian were to break his jaw, then he wouldn’t be able to talk. It wouldn’t prevent him from being the braggart that he is, but he’ll be quiet. People would celebrate Damian as a hero. The first thought sounded fine, but he disregarded soon after. He despised being a hero; the cheers were great, but he got those out of both sympathy and respect. He’d get the same if he went after the Tag Team Championships.
O’Connor or Clemmens. A no-nonsense vagabond or the electrifying hero?
Damian’s choice could come later. Because he had to make sure people know that OCW was his home now.
The low hum of a camera’s flicker heralded the establishment of a new scene. Sitting alone in a dimly lit room, in a chair forged of black leather, Damian K’ sat. His clothing stood for the mysterious nature of OCW’s newest competitor. The classic black suit with a white shirt and a jet-black tie, a go-to for those who wanted to keep things simple. Ostentatious apparel was not Damian’s goal. He had a message to send, and he needed to keep things focused on him. Yet, the background of his environment fought against him. The sounds of a choir occupied the lingering silence.
“Damian.”
“Damian.”
“Damian.”
The congregation sung, which brought on static for a moment. Damian kept his head lowered, before he rose it slowly. The sounds began to die out as Damian took control of his surroundings. He rose a hand up and swung it out to shut the choir up. He then sighed out, giving the camera a coarse look.
“I hate introductions.”
“I walk in OCW as a man that no one knows. My name might only reach out to certain corners of the world, but it’d be stupid for me to think anyone here does. But I still hate the process of introducing myself. So, I’m going to do everyone one better. I’m going to walk in and win this,” Damian paused, struggling with the match’s name, “Oh Shit match.”
“Because the best way to introduce myself is to win early and keep winning. If you lose your debut match, people tend to turn their noses up towards you. I haven’t come to OCW to deal with that kind of disrespect. I came here to continue my legacy in professional wrestling. I came here to ensure that I’m still able to move forward, to become the same force that I was before. No,” he stopped again, gazing outward with his stoic expression, “I didn’t come here for that.”
“I came here to be better.”
“Allow me to tell everyone in this match, no matter who you are. Legend, established star, those who are seeking their one big shot, or trying to reform whatever career that they had before, listen closely to what I have to say.”
“This is my house and you’re all unwelcome here. As I walk into this match as the fresh new face, the man with the odds against him, I see all of you not as competitors, not as enemies, but intruders,” he shook his head, “that may seem arrogant on my part. I’m some man from the depths, trying to make the claim that this legendary place is his home, but that’s nothing but the confidence that I have in myself.”
“I come from a world where I didn’t lose for two years straight. For two whole years, I saw, I conquered, and most of all, I laid out anybody that tried to stand in my way. I have only one mistake on my record, but you know how many times I have won? You know how many times I looked people in the eye and said what I said to you?” he held up his hand, clenching it into a fist. He released it slowly, “countless times.”
“I have been on the world stage. I have climbed the rungs of the world to reach the peak of the mountain. I plan to do just that again. On my first night in my first match here, I’m looking to see all the intruders, desecrating my grounds, and I’m going to blow your heads clean off,” his voice deepened upon the final word.
“Over the rope and through a table; that’s all I have to do. It’s simple enough, but I know that there’s going to be resistance. Brothers may unite against me. Legends will try to remind everyone of who they are. A man will try to make his triumphant return, but sadly, it’s all for naught,” Damian relaxed in his seat, gazing towards the camera with a slightly amused expression.
“I’m the new man. I’m the x-factor. I’m the person that people will look at and wonder about. That means I walk in with something that many people can’t. I’m the unexpected. I’m the nameless man. I’m liable to be the person that people will remember most. Because this is my first match, my first impression. But I’m going to impose my will right off gate.”
“There may be rivalries. There may be issues that I have nothing to do with. While there’s chaos all around, trying its hardest to enact its own ideals upon this match, I will stand in the center of it all with a clear mind. Because the only thing on my mind will be how to win this match. But to help weather the oncoming storm for all of you, I will unify you with a single thought.”
“In this match, as vibrant as it is, I need you all to ask yourself a single question when you look upon me. You are all intruders, thieves, in my new home and I need you to be gone. I need you to get out of my way of what I need to do. Call me benevolent, call me ruthless, but at the end of the day…”
Damian leaned forward, cupping his hands together with a gleam in his eyes. The voice tried to come back to sing his name, but they were all unable to raise themselves above Damian’s final words against his future opponents. With his voice, deep and husky as it is and his bright eyes piercing through, Damian spoke again.
“Do you have what it takes to survive me?”
Right then, static overtook the feed. The voices came back in full, before everything cut to black.
