Prologue:
Who am I? I'm the very thing that haunts my own dreams, that makes my core desire a nightmare. I'm known for being entitled, the very definition of a narcissist. People will say it was my father, who gave me every material possession a person could imagine.I was handed every award possible just for my last name. A litany of awards handed of given out of fear and respect. Others will tell you it's because of the age I was born into. Where everything we do is given merit. Everytime someone takes a shit it trends worldwide, everytime a baby cries it goes viral. But the overall impact of who I became or what I've become could be simply rationalize by my numbness to the world, a complete ignorance to suffering. I did every imaginable thing, just to feel empty. Drugs, Alcohol, and Sex, Vices that tend to keep people of this world thoughtlessly happy. Just to take away the expectations, to bury the truth. To take away the pain of my father's coddling, my mother's total indifference, and all the women I loved that couldn't return my affections. I was beaten and raped as a child by my crazy uncle Kam. He told me how useless I was. They tell me how horrible that must've been, but merely a moment later I returned to the family table asking for seconds of mash potatoes. I suppose you can't understand me unless you know the truth. Where I once begged to be numb, I now ache just to feel. I would give anything in this world to feel pain again. To feel my heart skip from fear, or my bones rustle with anticipation, anything just to feel the hurt. There's an advantage to being empty though, there's nothing to stop you from the self-destructive behavor that would destroy you. There's no herb, drug, or trip that I haven't experienced. I took a hit of acid and thought I felt something but it was merely a hallucination. A fabrication of what one might feel in that circumstance. That's the irony in all of this. I once so badly begged for the pain to stop, now I can't feel shit, nothing at all. It's often said that pain is the worst feeling of all. But nothing compares to this eternal emptiness inside me.
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Swing Home Sweet Chariot, coming forth to carry me home, swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home. I looked over Jordan and what do I see, coming forth to carry me home a band of Angel's runnin' after me. Coming forth to carry me home.
The dusk has just settled as the nightmare appears. His face covered in white paint, with a few stray lines of black giving definition to his face. He had a large ax in hand, swaying it from side to side with the greatest of ease. He stopped swaying the ax as he came upon a tree. His eyes widen, biting down on his lip he enthusiastically circled the tree in a counter clockwise manner.
Hero, that's your occupation Thomas?
Jericho swung the ax over his shoulder, then started to skip around the tree merrily. After a few moments of this he leaned the back of his head against it. His eyes focused into the lens that was in front of him.
How very noble of you, and the fans they just cheer you name like your a long lost savoir. You're not only a hero, but a prototypical hero in that. A six foot five, two hundred and fifty pound man's man. You are even from Blackpool, England, even your location is utterly cliche. A man who's willing to do anything in the name of heroics. They even call you the Extreme Hero.
Jericho hoisted the ax off of his shoulder with a growl, placing it firmly into the ground with a punishing swing.
They say a hero is not judged by the words he speaks, by the nobility of his actions. That a hero is only truly a hero once he's been tested. Thus you can only be a hero when you sacrifice. When you are willing to give of yourself to make the world a better place. You have to earn the right to be called hero. But alas, I fear for you Thomas, I fear that you will never have the opportunity to become the hero you believe you are. That fate has intercepted the future you believe you desire. I will make a mockery of your arrival, I will embarrass you, and I'll do it without hesitation. My ways are not your ways. For I, am no such hero, I don't believe in your moral code, or ethics, none of that makes any sense to me. Most people would let you ascend, to become great and then take the valiant hero out.
Jericho leaned his head forward then brought it back quickly against the tree. The sickening thud of his skull against the tree cut through the night air.
But I'm not that ambitious, I don't see the difference between slaying batman, and crippling Bruce Wayne before he ever becomes the bat. It serves the same exact purpose. The hero is still gone, and I, I find a certain freedom in that. You have a grand design which includes rising to the very top of SCW. Being cheer, and cherishing those cheers. You want to be a king, a savoir, a God. Sadly, I will end that Journey before you have the chance to take off. You see Thomas, this isn't a match. This is your legacy. You might not even see it yet, but that's the truth. Because you've anointed yourself a hero, and in your first match you take on a monster. As a hero it's your obligation to conquer me. To show the world that you are the very hero you claim to be. If you do, they shall rejoice. The fans will cheer, the other wrestlers will accept you, and you will have erupted onto the scene.
Jericho turned around, running his hand up the side of the tree. Letting the bark glide in between his fingers before pressing his face against it.
There is only one obstacle in your way, there's one minuscule thing that can't be over looked. I'm not your ordinary monster Thomas. No, I'm a monster that you can't possibly defeat, and in that; you will find your defining moment. Because while they would cheer, and worship you if you beat me. They will mock and belittle you when you don't. Every match after that your opponents will bring up me decimating you. They will talk of the time when I took your hero status and made it into a myth.
Jericho stopped himself in mid-sentence as he ran his tongue along the tree. Feeling its strong trunk, letting the ridged bark grind against his mouth. Then suddenly he took a couple of steps back admiring the tree. Placing his left hand on the tree he patted it gently.
This tree has a lot of the same traits that you have Thomas. It's a promise of safety, a beckon of hope, and most of all it's a promise. It's stood here for hundreds of years occupying this space. A home for animals in need, a shelter from the wind and rain, even a look out for the birds above, that call to the other animals when danger appears. It's the hero of this forest . Much like you claim to be the hero of SCW. Many men would come out here and they'd take the ax. They swing it with all their might until finally, they chopped this massive tree down. Then they'd tell you how they're going to do the same to you. If that's what you're expecting, I will have to disappoint you greatly. No, that's far too optimistic of a future for a hero such as this.
Jericho gave a sadistic smirk before taking the ax, winding up and slamming it into the tree one time. Pulling the ax from the tree Jericho admired his handy word. Watching as the sap ran down from the opening in the tree, he tossed the ax to the ground.
It bleeds, It bleeds
Jericho said in a high pitched voice jumping up and down. His sadistic smirk widened as a brightness is his eyes appeared, his whole body trembled with elation. Jericho bent down to the opening as he started to suckle on the sap that poured down the tree. It began to run down the side of his face and smear his facepaint. He looked back at the camera, focusing once more.
One swing is all it takes to wound a giant like this. And from this one blow, decay will start, the animals will return only to realize the tree can no longer save them , and this once mighty hero will fall piece by piece to the earth. Chopping Thomas down would simply be encouragement for others like him to appear. For other great heroes to try and take down the monster. No, the fate I have in store for you is much more devious. It's a sick fetish of mine Thomas. I want you to watch. I want you to stand their slowly rotting away as I destroy everyone else. I want the fans to chant your name as your forced watch crippled by your own fear. I want you to hear them screaming for their hero, all the while knowing that you have broken your promise. I will watch you decay, I will watch as you dash all their hopes and dreams. Until you finally admit that there's nothing you can do. Then and only then Thomas, will I allow you to die, and I myself will carry you away.
Jericho walked by the camera off screen as a familiar song echoes from distance.
Swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home.
Swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home!
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Jericho sat behind a burning fire, sharping a knife against a cold piece of steel. The evening was cool even causing him to shiver slightly, as we watch the coolness dissipate into the air. He ran the knife along the side of his face.
I wonder if no one got my message? It seems to me like that must be it. Was Mickey not a good enough example? Did I speak without conviction? Is it that you are too scared to get in contact with me. I swear I don't bite..... much.
As Jericho ran the knife along his face the cold caused him to jerk slightly, causing the knife to penetrate his skin. Blood started to trickle down his face as he acted at if nothing happened, the blood slowly blending with his face paint.
I guess it could be any of those things, any one of the things I mentioned could be the case. Maybe I did it wrong, shattering Mickey's ankle might not have been enough. Perhaps I should have broken his leg, or arm, or crushed his skull. Any of those things are beyond feasible.
Jericho saw the blood dripping down onto the knife, and gave a lighthearted chuckle. Lifting the blade to his mouth he licked the blood from the steel.
Could it be that I didn't speak with enough conviction, did I not make my intentions clear? Here, let me try again. I'm a mercenary, I want to hurt people, and I want you to pay me to hurt people. Whether you are NXT, whether you are HSI, honestly I don't care if you're the mean girls. I will do anyone's bidding. I have a very reasonable rate as well. It's not like I'm in it for the money. No, not at all, I want to hear you say you need me. I want to hear you beg.
Jericho tossed the steel to the side, immediately followed by the knife. The once sadistic smile was replaced with a eerie focus and a disturbing glare. As a high pitched yell escaped from the depths of his throat.
If I don't, it'll make me wonder, who must I destroy to get your attention. Who must I cremate to make you call me. The problem is that it won't matter then, because if I'm forced to do that. I will have already gone into business for myself. Then I chose the targets, and before you think you're above me let me assure that I'm not beheading kings. No one is safe, not Rage, not Mark Ward, not even the SCW champion Simon Jones. You will all be nothing more than targets that I will blow away with easy.
Jericho took his hand and placed it on the cut. He rubbed with feverish intensity until it opened up causing the warm liquid to flow from his body. He then smeared it all over one half of his face.
Last chance, if I don't get a call within twenty four hours. I start working for Jericho. And while you might think that my threats are ideal I assure you they are not. If you don't believe me, just ask Mickey, I'm sure he'll explain to you the depth I'll sink to just to make a point. SCW's mercenary has arrive, and he will be taking heads.
With that static flooded the screen until there was nothing but darkness
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Six foot, Seven foot, Eight foot, bunch, daylight come and me wanna go home.
We opened with Jericho dancing in circles in a white suit with seamless black lines running down it. His arms extended as he came to an abrupt stop. A maniacal laughter bellows from within him. As the camera panned out and we saw him in the middle of an empty club. Disco lights shined down upon him as stuck his tongue out.
You are a giant of a man Horace, aren't you? Big, strong, and ancient; you might be wondering what wonderful things I have in store for you. I gave Thomas a mighty tree, to explain how I was going to destroy him with the slightest bit of effort. That must lead you to think that a mamoth man like yourself must have something truly spectacular awaiting for you. I must have conjured something great for a man of such stature. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but for you I have simple words and simple thoughts.
Jericho walked over grabbing a remote and he turned it from dim to light. The lights in the club illuminated down onto Jericho causing him to squint. He sighed heavily as his thoughts seemed to escape him.
You are not worthy of an agonizing death, you deserve something quick and painless. When I first saw you here I thought I might have company. That there might just be another monster roaming these hall. Then I listened, I listened to you speak of darkness, and the force. How very cute it was, listening to your babblings, followed by those of your loving sister.
In the blink of an eye Jericho exploided into a spirt dove stomach first onto the bar that was in the corner of the room. He swung his arms as if he were swimming in a pool, even taking deep breaths to emphasize the point.
You see darkness doesn't need a story, it doesn't need an explanation, and those who give it. Very rarely have any understanding of it at all. So let me keep my explantion of darkness short and sweet. When you walk into a room in full costume, people see a giant. A huge lumbering man who will put up a fight against any man. When I walk into a room, average looking as I may be. People scatter, they hide their children and wives, and they run for their lives only fighting as a last resort. You see men want to fight you to prove their worth, men hide from me for fear of seeing their own worthlessness.
He tuned over onto his back carefully intertwining the fingers and then resting the bad of his head on his hands. Staring up at the ceiling he continued on.
Do you wonder why I'm the odds on favorite and still no one mentions my name? It's because they hope I'm an illusion. They pray to their feeble Gods that no one mentioned my name and brought the monster back. It isn't that I was relevant, it's the pure fact no one wants to see me here. No one wants to tangle with the unspeakable. They all know the truth, and that is there is no defeating this beast.
Jericho unraveled his fingers pulling his hand down to pull out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. As the camera zoomed in the fine print on the cigarette pack said Mickey on it. He pulled out a single smoke out and placed it on his chest.
There will be no supernatural occurrences in this match, no heroes to speak of , and the only force that will be felt will be a reign of elbows and knees that come crashing down onto your skull. And when that last flurry of pain comes raging down on you, I will crush your skull into the very mat you claim to dominate. The force will be stopped, the hero slain, and the monster,
He reached down pulling a lighter from his pants pocket. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it up.
Will be ready to set SCW ablaze.
With that he flicked the cigarette to the ground, and as the smoke began to rise, Jericho simply closed his eyes.
