"It was all meant to be so beautiful, it was meant to be the greatest moment of my career. It was supposed to be exactly like my dreams. But then, within a matter of seconds, all of my hopes and dreams were crushed."
Scene calibrates to the sight of an interior blanketed in darkness, with hints of charred, bleak furniture seeming almost entirely dulled and malnourished of life - if not for the seeps of daylight breathing into the setting. Amongst the rubble and torn chunks of scattered sofa sponge sprawled on the oak tiling, inklings of creaking and shuffling materialize - the sounds of cupboards and cutlery tinkling and clanging in unison before a figure situates upon the frail leather support endowed. Gently, the left arm is placed onto the coffee table, a piece of bandaging thereafter removed to unveil incredibly charred flesh - the ghastly, ailing skin appearing ravaged by scabs and cuts, such wounding only being afforded to someone indebted to a trade where life and death become as menial as inhaling/exhaling. We witness the figure wince in pain slightly as they apply hydrogen peroxide onto the open flesh - first on the arm and thereafter their left calf. They’re considerably cautious when cleaning the latter with a cotton swab, as the camera pans to reveal a tattoo having been slightly damaged in the spoils of battles. Transcribed on his leg reads the following: “MI X LOV'' surrounded by a red heart that’s being suffocated by a brown tourniquet. The symbolism and ambiguity of both the lettering and imagery loom greatly over us, with the intrigue only mounting as the singular, distinctively sharp hazel eye of Brandon Hendrix is identified. Shortly after patching himself up, he sighs and gazes into the night.
Each raindrop colliding against the corroding steel and windowpane is that of a kaleidoscope. If we could only peer further, the very fabric of what we know would all but cease - or very well give way to material far beyond ordinary comprehension. The hazel eyes, however, show no interest in allowing the intrigue to linger any longer. He pivots his gaze into one of the singular raindrops, becoming one with the dampened neverland. His mind synchronizes with the pattering percussion of nature’s tears, with the collision onto the concrete surface giving way to a tinnitus-like ringing. In that instance, Brandon's mind had reverted long elsewhere. And so, with a rucksack in tow he evacuated the premises thereafter, navigating to the damp, fairly illuminated streets of the night. Flies ricocheted off the dim orange hues that situated itself from above, the shallow pockets of life that exuded from the barren setting best being expressed by the fleeting murmurs of an inebriated homeless man in the distance, this and the empty liquorice he shouldered in his time of squallar clanging against the heaps of garbage piled . Shortly after entering a vehicle and and wandering off, something about the cinematic grain of navigating through the strobing nightlife of the capital bred a special enamoration within that corner within Brandon's mind - that screeching conscience of which chose to paint the tapestry of the world whatever he saw fit. And so, the debauch of the city much like the place that once smouldered his youth and innocence became that canvas - it’s story becoming theirs.
“The motherfucking bible I’m forever the truth” summed up Tamer to a tee.
I wash these pills down with liquor and fall (I do)
Leave it to me, I do enough for us all (I do)
Got what you need if you like breakin' the law
My mother raised me a God (Hey)
But everything mentioned prior came with its respective ramifications, the stress of ultimately being unable to fulfill his personal expectations - be it through his lack of own power or the strength of many who opposed him colliding headfirst with life amongst his family only served to turn that initial piss and vinegar into venom. Only here, there was no renovation - rather, a wish for the reparations to rest where his passion seemingly once resided, no matter the cost. It lost its sense of luster in remarkably quick fashion - acting as no more than empty chainmail to guard the innards of a desire to live up to everything he’d long yearned to become. In finally answering his own cries, Brandon had sworn unbridled committedness to his own perfect circle within, while still failing miserably in crafting his own in the world. A realization that settled as he became the product of chastise to the people whom he once longed to fight on the behalf of - collapsing in his reclamation in front of millions. For the first time, the world finally had a real reason to hate him - and it tore at him within.
"Of princes there are few, of men with crowns taken by force there are many.”
“Every fallacious justification for our countless personal mishaps, every failure to revive the youthful fervor of yesteryear that allowed us to stand in a momentary blissful triumph - exalted among all and unrivaled under the heavens. We sit as spokes on that steep merry-go-round, beseechingly watching our lives’ dreams slip through the crevices and plummet into Kingdom Come whilst over time, only being able to remark at the futility of it all, and yet we’ve no choice but to continue subjecting ourselves to the drudgery that is our covenant to this cyclical trade without the mercy of a fruitful end service in near sight. I suppose that over time, that it isn’t absurd that a journeyman wouldn’t prove exempt, to eventually give in and build a haven in such a contraption - to find a great deal of sustenance or intoxication to such a life after so many years of forcefully sifting through it all to guttural diminishing returns. In the end, ultimately knowing it to be no more than a paper-thin rationale to justify time invested. It’s been a journey, to say the least. Alexander Raven...."
"Should you worry about me? Probably not cuz, because you said it best yourself before, everyone suffers a loss. I've been beaten by major stars like Jason Long and Scott Oasis to name a few. I'm a name you expect to beat but you will not. I rather die and fall to the depths of Hell then to let you run around here, all that pep in your step and your ego even bigger because you beat me. You're not better than me. You can be in form, on fire, you can be in the best mindset that you ever have been but it doesn't matter. I'm not stepping into the ring to be your make it performance, I'm stepping into the ring to break you. Heck, the only reason you have this obsession with me is because end of the day, no matter how, no matter why: I. Beat. You. I walked out SCW (different SCW now ain't that something?) Heavy Metal Champion, and you walked out a loser. I walked into the very next week and became SCW Tag Team Champion, while you walked out a loser again. I became a double champion while your only name to fame you have was calling me out. Even after the owner took his ball and closed the company after only four weeks, you always had to keep me in your mind because you knew deep down that if you couldn't of beaten me, you wouldn't of allowed yourself to move on."
Everything goes black. The scene begins with the date "OCTOBER 9TH" in red. That night, Brandon Hendrix held both his titles in his grasp and said:
"...this isn’t for me. This may sound cliche, but this title isn’t for me, it for every single one of you. This...if for everyone that has been told that they aren’t good enough. This is for the people like me who were told to their face that they wouldn’t amount to anything…"
"THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO HAS EVER HAD A DREAM THAT THEY HAD TO SCRATCH AND CLAW TO ACHIEVE. THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO FEEL WORTHLESS AND FEEL LIKE THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT THEM. THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO KNOW THEY DON’T HAVE A SNOWBALL’S CHANCE IN THE NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL TO BE ANYTHING MORE THAN NOTHING, BUT FIGHT WITH EVERYTHING THEY HAVE, EVERY OUNCE OF COURAGE AND POWER IN THEIR HEARTS AND THEIR SOULS, UNTIL THEY CAN SAY THAT THEY ARE WORTH A SHIT IN THIS WORLD. THIS. IS. FOR. YOU!!!"
"But, could you have said that, Raven? The False King of no kingdom when Brandon Hendrix is around. I told everyone that me winning those titles was for them, but me beating you, is for me. And while you need to hide behind Twitter, and act like a elementary schooler, telling everyone "but guys Brandon is swearing!", I am out there winning. I'm beating people left and right, gaining opportunities you waste because of this obsession. Now, for the better SCW, I am going to make my mark with YOU. It's simple, I'm going to beat you, end this once and for all, and move on to make a mark in this company. All you can do is watch and learn how a real man makes it big in wrestling."
- Off Camera: My Love -
Brandon Hendrix after losing his final Project Honor match is seen leaving the arena through the building doors that heads towards the parking lot, approaching the Conquest Knight XV vehicle. He quickly pulls his car keys out from his pants pocket, and unlocks the car and takes a deep breath hearing footsteps approaching. He really doesn't want this right now. Already annoyed from the loss earlier, he growls and grits his teeth, turning around with haste, he raises his fist up for a punch. He instintively but stops when he sees who it is. After sighing, he drops both his fists and mental guard.
"I'm sorry mom. I'm just… on edge right now."
The lady now known to be Mama Hendrix approaches her son and gives him a hug. She rubs the back of his head before letting go.
"It's fine my son. I'm so proud of you. You were amazing out there."
"Thank you mom. And thank you for flying out here to watch me compete finally. Unfortunately you had to fly down here to see your son lose."
"Oh honey, to me, it doesn't matter if you lose or if you win, it's about seeing you happy and doing the best you can. Gosh, I haven't seen you that focused since your first match last year."
"It has been a year, huh? Time flies a lot recently."
"So, what's next?"
"I'm going to Sin City mom... and I'm going to make it big, and make sure I buy you everything you want, like you guys worked your ass off for me to get. Even if it kills me... love you mom."
Brandon nods slightly before he and his mom hug each other. Brandon lets out a small sigh before slowly letting go from the hug. He enters the driver seat of the vehicle. He grips the steering wheel tightly. After giving mom a tentative farewell smile, he pushes the start button of the car and drives away from the scene that unbeknown to him right now, could really be the night that makes Brandon Hendrix in SCW, his debut against the man who's been causing him hell for a while now: Alexander Raven.[/font]
