Crossing a line (offcam)
It was all falling apart infront of his eyes. The monster Supreme Machine was watching his carefully laid plans disintegrate one by one. Even if he didn’t take into account events that happened in other promotions, his course in SCW was getting waylaid. The defeat to Fenris left his ego wounded. Getting eliminated by Goth in the Blast from the Past tournament left him questioning his drive… and the betrayal by Bane left him seething. And it all could be traced to a single event that didn’t even happen in the ring. Something he had failed to predict. Something he had been unable to predict.
The confrontation with the Iceman. Getting saddled with a watcher who wouldn’t hesitate to take him out from a far. It burned at him. Knowing that his every step was being watched, his every act measured. But most of all… The burning ember of anger directed towards the one person SuMa thought he could rely on… the one person he thought wouldn’t have the guts to stand up against him. His sister, Jennifer Rivers. She had sicced the Iceman on him. SHE had tried to put a leash on him. And that could not be allowed to stand. She had to pay. She had become a hindrance… and had to be removed.
But within the monster a battle was brewing. Through their decade and a half of co-existence, Tom had held onto one source of strength to resist the monster. One thing he could not let the monster do. Harming Jenny was something Tom could not allow. Whenever his sister was concerned, Tom had been able to push against the monster's dominance, being able to momentarily assert control and protect her. She was the last vestige of the life that existed before Supreme Machine was born. The one person in the world who still looked at the monster and saw Tom. The one person who had never given up hope, never shrugged him off as a lost cause. And while SuMa’s hate for Jenny grew, Tom found himself saving his strength, trying to prepare for the inevitable clash of wills that was coming. And Tom was sure SuMa knew that if he acted against Jenny… he would have to fight Tom as well. But what Tom wasn’t sure of was whether the monster relished the chance, or dreaded it.
Yet the confrontation had come sooner than Tom had anticipated. To his shock he realized that SuMa had made his way to the bedroom where Jenny was sleeping. In the dead of night, he had been shook awake by ill intent emanating from his evil half. And when he got his bearings, he looked through his own eyes, seeing the resting form of his sister. Defenseless. Unaware of the danger that loomed above her. As SuMa watched the peacefully sleeping woman like the horror-movie villain he was often mocked as… All he could feel was the anger he felt when Iceman held a gun to him and read the riot act to him. A growl emanated from his chest as he muttered out quietly. “Traitors… deserve… death…” and then, he lunged at Jenny, with the intent to kill.
Except he was stopped mid-stride, his hand clenching inches from Jenny’s throat. Like an invisible chain, SuMa found himself restrained. By Tom. With incredible force of will, Tom pushed SuMa aside and ripped the control of their shared body from him. “NO!” he exclaimed the moment he took the reins. “NOT HER!”
The monster was caught off-guard. The shock of being shoved aside throwing him for a loop. “How??” the monster tried to shout, but his voice was suppressed as Tom asserted full control. “What do you think you can accomplish? You can’t keep us down for long…” the monster snarled, malicious intent in it’s voice. “Is it really worth it?? You’re just delaying the inevitable!” The threats didn’t fall on deaf ears. Tom knew he’d pay for this. But he had to do it.
“This is one line I won’t let you cross. Not as long as I live” Tom responded with a strained voice. It took great effort to keep the monster at bay, so he was silently begging for Jenny to wake up. Step by step, with massive effort, he moved away from the sleeping woman, the monster wearing down his resolve with relentless blows, one after another. But he had to persist. Had to endure.
“You fool.. She chose her side when she sent the Iceman after us! We can’t let this slide, weakling!” The monster’s battering intensified as he saw his prey getting more and more distant. His attacks on Tom caused the man to grunt out loud, with every move of the body taking great strength to accomplish. As one of the Monsters mental strikes timed perfectly with a step, Tom lost his balance and crumpled against a vanity table, sending make-up containers clattering to the floor. And that noise was enough to raise Jenny from her slumber. She sat up and looked around in confusion, blinking as she saw the mountain of a man struggling to get to his feet, and her defensive instincts kicked in.
Jenny leaped up from the bed, sleepiness waning in an instant. She assumed a defensive stance, keeping the bed between her and the monster. “What do you want, big guy?” She asked, her voice tinged with caution. She could sense something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what. “What’s going on?”
Refusing to even look at her, Tom kept his eyes on the door, hoping he could make it there before the monster broke through. “He’s gonna kill you” he forced through his lips between labored breaths and grunts of effort. “You gotta get away”
The voice stopped Jenny on her tracks. “Tom??” The question was laced with confusion and disbelief. Leaning forward, Jenny tried to look into the man’s eyes, as that had always been the surefire way to know which one of the sides was in charge, Tom’s eyes always seemingly kinder and sparkling with life in contrast to the dull deadness of SuMa. But she couldn’t see, as his eyes were shut tight, creased with effort.
“YES! RUN!” The struggling man screamed through his teeth. Little by little he was losing his hold, his body moving against his will. And on the back of his head, malicious laughter rang. The monster knew it was winning. Slowly but surely. “He’s getting free… Can’t.. .hold… him…” Tom physically grabbed his hand with his other hand, trying to keep control of it by sheer force. “LEAVE!”
Quickly assessing the situation, Jenny leaped to her nightstand, pulling out the tool given to him by Mitchell. On the dim moonlight shone in from the windows, a metallic glint emanated from the needle of a syringe, one that the Iceman had handed to Jenny as a last resort. Mitchell had told her the contents were enough to paralyze a full-grown silverback, and when Jenny looked at the intense struggle between her brother and the monster within… she just had to help. She took a step closer, the focus of the struggle moving away from her and took advantage of the distraction, sinking the needle into the muscular arm of the masked man.”Hang in there Tom…” She mumbled under her breath as the liquid slowly made its way out of the syringe and into the circulation of the scarred monster.
The stinging pain alerted Tom, and he swung his head around to stare at Jenny, his eyes wide in confusion. He didn’t have time to process what had happened before his legs went out from under him, and with his entire body falling limp, he crashed onto the ground. And as the strength left his limbs, the monster finally broke through, violently shoving Tom into the background. Lying on the ground, SuMa stared up at Jenny who was eyeing him warily. “You BITCH…” he slurred through numb lips. “What did you do!?” SuMa tried to push himself up to his feet, but he didn’t have any strength in his body. His hands and legs refused to respond to his commands. All he could do was stare up at the woman who he had come to kill.
Jenny knelt next to him, keeping enough distance so she could withdraw if he showed signs of being able to act. And from his words and the way he was looking at her, she knew SuMa had gotten control again. “Let Tom free you piece of shit…” She spat at him, venom dripping from her words. “I’ve neutralized you.”
Despite the situation, SuMa began laughing. “Or what?” he asked in a mocking tone. “You’re going to kill us? Kill Tom?” he shook his head, or tried to, as the drug was still inhibiting his movement. “You don’t have the spine. You cling onto the slim hope that you can save the weakling. That one day we’ll be gone and he’ll be all that remains.” SuMa began to stir, with nigh-inhuman determination he began to sit up, every slightest move coming with great strain, visible in his face. “You think this trick will keep us down for long?” His voice was full of mockery, false bravado to hide the fact that not even he could fully ignore the paralyzing agent running in his veins.
In face of his defiant words, Jenny gave a somber chuckle. “Kill you? I’ve considered it… but there are fates worse than death…” she said as she reached for another syringe, showing it to SuMa. “This… is the dirtiest, filthies, cheapest heroin you can find in the market… Have you heard about the locked in syndrome?” She let the words dangle in the air. It was something her cousin, Matt Knox had told her about. “I push this needle into you and you’ll be a living statue… aware. But unable to move. Forever.” She brought the syringe closer to SuMa’s arm, cocking her head to the side slowly in a manner very reminiscent of her brother’s “So tell me again…is there hope for Tom to come back?” Her voice had gone really low, barely a whisper.
SuMa’s eyes were locked on the syringe, the effort of keeping his body upright causing his brow to furrow and his eyes to squint. “You wouldn’t…” He replied, trying to maintain the boastful edge to his voice, but it faltered. For the first time in his life, the masked monster was afraid. And turns out that fear… is a powerful tool of self-preservation as SuMa suddenly pushed with all his might and bolted to his feet, swaying like a drunkard after last call, but remaining on his feet. He leant against the wall slightly, but his eyes never left the syringe. “Try your luck.” He spat at Jenny.
Jenny stared in terror as SuMa began to rise. She thought she had the situation well in hand, that she had him dead to rights, that the drug was enough to keep him grounded. And yet, the masked monster was standing up. For a passing moment Jenny considered lunging at him and sticking the heroin-laced needle into his arm and sentencing her brother to a fate worse than death. Yet… The fact that Tom had pushed through, ever so briefly, gave her hope. Hope that one day he would emerge victorious against the evil within. So she stayed her hand. “One chance. That is all you get you fuck.” she snarled at him. “Leave. Get out of my life. As long as you hold Tom hostage… Mitchell will watch over you. As long as you hold Tom hostage… you are dead to me.” She pointed at the door, managing to keep her hand from shaking and her voice from breaking. “You went too far. Get out. Because next time? Next time I WILL end you.”
Still swaying, but having managed to stabilize himself, SuMa looked at Jenny with disgust. He was still too weak and sluggish from the drug to go for an attack, but retreat was a tough one to swallow. “Fine.” He mumbled as he lurched towards the door, using his hand on the wall to steady himself. “But this isn’t over.” He threw an indignant glance at the woman. “Not by a long shot” his final threat seemed empty as he barely got through the doorway, with Jenny following him downstairs and to the front door. Gathering his strength to make a somewhat-dignified exit, SuMa threw one last hate-filled look at Jenny and disappeared into the night, still stumbling like a drunkard.
As the door closed and SuMa vanished, Jenny fell on her ass to the ground, adrenaline finally starting to subside and exhausting kicking in. Half walking, half-crawling she made her way back upstairs and into her bed, reaching for her phone with hands shaking like leaf in a storm and began to type out a message to Mitchell. “It’s over. He’s gone. It’s up to you now.”
A few minutes passed as Jenny hovered on the edge of unconsciousness, remaining aware only because of the fear of SuMa returning, until her phone beeped, and on the screen she saw a message that was short and to the point, very much as per usual for the “Iceman” Mitchell. “On it.”
Jenny let out a deep sigh of relief, knowing that the masked monster was being kept tabs on. She laid down on the bed, realizing a single tear was rolling down her cheek. She knew that there was only one way this would end for him and her. A grim fate for either… and she hated it. Wiping the tear off she muttered quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “I’m sorry Tom… so sorry…”
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Final Battle (offcam)
Moonlight shines down on a sleepy city, clouds partially covering the fullness of the pale spot on the sky. Outside the colorful cavalcade of color cast by neon billboards, the streets and alleyways are shrouded in darkness. And in that darkness stalks Supreme Machine. Tonight he is on the hunt. Tonight he has a goal and tonight… he will end his ordeal. Moving silently from shadow to shadow, he lurks, eyes peeled to detect the slightest movement, the slightest change. Tonight he has a particular prey, tonight he only has one goal.
Suddenly his ears perk up. He heard a noise in the distance. A metallic click, followed by the shuffling of fabric. A smile spreads to SuMa’s mangled lips. It can only be his target. His pace quickens as he begins to jog around a corner and up a fire escape, moving in a manner way more agile than a man of his 360lbs girth had any right to. He tries the fire exit, it’s open. Staying silent, he slips into the building, looking around. The rundown, decrepit state of the walls and floors suggests it's abandoned. Even better, he thinks to himself as he moves towards the direction of the sound, stopping infront of a half–open door that stands out from the rest, showing signs of use unlike the other rusty and dusty ones.
He listens behind the door. Holding his breath as he ever so slowly cracks the door wider and wider, just wide enough to slip inside. It’s an apartment, long since disused. He sees footprints in the thick layer of dust on the floor. He’s in the right place. He stops behind a corner that opens up into a big room and listens. Breathing, calm and measured. A soft tapping sound, flesh meeting plastic. Then a voice.
“No, haven’t seen him tonight. I got a full view of his hiding place. Probably still licking his wounds inside”. SuMa recognizes the voice. It’s Mitchell. He makes a mental note that he was right to switch locations to rest. The Iceman thought him predictable. It gives the monster the advantage. SuMa considers his options of attack as the man speaks again. “Yeah, I should be done by damn. Don’t worry, I’m always careful. Love you too.”
Another tapping sound, signaling the end of the call. SuMa carefully peeks around the corner to see his prey. A silhouette painted against the pale moonlight and bright neon billboards. The stocky man seemed tense, fiddling with the hem of his trenchcoat. On the window sill next to the man, SuMa sees a large caliber rifle. Scoped. And resting on his belt, a large handgun. He is well armed. But he is looking out, not in. Distracted. Unaware.
He carefully measures the distance. About 15 feet. That's how much he has to cover fast enough to prevent Mitchell from going for his gun. He has two options. Try to sneak closer before lunging, risking early exposure, or just charge flat out, risking giving him enough time to react. In silence SuMa calculated the situation. Assessing risk vs reward. Both approaches had their merits. But before he could make a decision, he gets a stroke of luck that decides it for him. A loud clunking noise from the outside distracts Mitchell, who immediately begins to peer into the night, turning his back to SuMa. A fatal mistake.
Making a split second decision, SuMa charges. Pushing his 6’9’’, 360 pound frame into motion in a way that defies belief. His thudding footsteps alerting Mitchell to his impeding doom, and with shockingly fast reflexes, he spins around and reaches for his gun. It’s a matter of milliseconds as SuMa sees Mitchell draw the massive Desert Eagle out of his belt just as their bodies collide, SuMa crashing into Mitchell with the power of a runaway freight train. Mitchell gets squashed against the concrete wall, air escaping his lungs with a resounding thud. But at the same time, a loud bang and the smell of gunpowder as the high-caliber handgun discharges, SuMa hearing the bullet whizzing past his ear, barely missing.
In a rapid flurry of motion, SuMa reaches down to rip the gun from Mitchells hand, throwing it out of the room, then grabbing him with both hands and sending him flying across the room with an emphatic throw. Mitchell lands on the floor and grunts in pain, but after quickly shaking the cobwebs out of his head, he stands up and takes a fighing stance, his resolve impressing the masked monster. He locks eyes with SuMa, showing no emotion. On his face. No fear. No Anger. Just stoic calm. “So… this is where it ends. This is where you fall Thomas…” Mitchell speaks in a mocking tone, using the name he knows SuMa hates. He’s trying to rile him up, trying to get him to lash out in anger. A solid plan. Most of the time.
But not this time. Instead of playing his game, SuMa just cocks his head to the side, measuring up the defiant Mitchell. “For you, Iceman” he responds coldly. Not letting the iceman get under his skin, keeping his cool. This battle was too important to waste. SuMa knew that Mitchell was far more dangerous than he seemed. That the short, stocky build and non-descript appearance hid a man used to killing. A man used to fighting at a disadvantage. A man used to punching above his weight. A man who had survived the criminal underworld as one of its premier hitmen for a decade and lived to tell the tale. SuMa knew he couldn’t get complacent. So he waited for Mitchell to make the first move, take the initiative. But none was forthcoming. Mitchell was too smart. Keeping his distance from SuMa, he adopted a defensive posture, almost beckoning SuMa to strike. So it was a standoff between the powerhouse and the technical marvel.
Mitchell knew that if he was to have any chance of winning, he needed to goad the masked monster into making the first move. So he spoke up, his voice dripping with venom. “What’s wrong Thomas?” He gave him a condescending smile. “Scared?” The words were designed for maximum effect in an attempt to bait out an emotional response. Showing no fear to the monster, using his real name. But to Mitchell’s disappointment, SuMa refused to give in. Ever since the first contact, SuMa’s mind had gotten focused. He had one objective. Neutralize the iceman. And he would not let anything distract him from it. So he kept his head cool, staring at Mitchell intently, looking for any signs of an opening. He would have to force Mitchell to commit a mistake. Maybe use his own means against him?
SuMa allowed a cocky smile to spread to his mangled lips, twisting his face into a hellish visage. “No… we have all night…” He gave a flat, emotionless chuckle. “You will tire out eventually… we are patient. We can wait” He circled Mitchell as he spoke, the iceman responding in kind as the standoff turned into slow-turning dance. SuMa tried to get a read on Mitchell, but the stoic man's face was impossible to decipher. And he found himself half-way respecting the former hitman's composure. It was obvious he was far above his usual prey.
The two warriors circled each other for minutes, time slowly passing with neither blinking, neither making the first move. The distance between them hadn’t grown nor had it shrunk. Neither was willing to back down, nor advance. It was almost ritualistic how they kept on circling, measuring each other up, looking for the slightest shift in posture, the smallest opening. This continued for a good while until SuMa spotted a piece of debris behind the iceman, just out of his path. Keeping his face stoic, a plan formulated as he slowly circled towards it. He slightly increased his distance, suppressing a smile as the Mitchells eyes lit up for a split second. The iceman had spotted the piece of debris as well, having circled past the exact same spot dozens of times. So when SuMa got around to that side, he kept his eyes locked with Mitchells, pretending to trip on the piece of debris. He shifted his bodyweight oh so slightly to one side to appear off balance… and the Iceman took the bait.
And just like that the final battle began. Mitchell rushed forward, aiming for SuMa’s legs, trying to shoot for a takedown on the off-balance monster. In the mind of the Iceman, taking away SuMa’s base would even the playing field, taking away his biggest advantage, his size and strength, thus putting them on equal ground. As Mitchell lunged though, SuMa was ready, shifting his center of balance enough to dodge the rush, grabbing Iceman by his outstretched arm. He secured his hold with a dual grip, and the moment it was secured, he let gravity do the work for him, crashing down on top of the Iceman, the arm getting pinned between concrete and 360 pound of flesh and muscle. A sickening crunch echoed from the bare walls as the bone snapped and ligaments tore away. And to his credit, SuMa realized the iceman hadn’t let out a single sound and was ignoring the pain as he was attempting to roll away from the monster's deathgrip.
But SuMa wouldn’t let him go. He leant back, pinning Mitchell to the ground with his sheer mass as he yanked and yanked on the arm until it got torn clean off the socket with a wet plop. SuMa let go of the now-limp arm and lifted his own up above his head, driving it down so that the point of his elbow smashed down on Mitchells spine, blowing the air out of his lungs and momentarily paralyzing him. With a satisfied smirk on his face, SuMa stood up, looking down on his helpless foe, writhing on the ground in immense pain. He prodded Mitchell with the toe of his boot, eliciting a yelp of pain from the man.
SuMa chuckled. “And so ends the story of the Iceman…” he mused out loud, reaching down to grab Mitchells leg, lifting him up by the ankle until the leg was straight up and tense and with ruthless force, aimed a stiff kick in the kneecap, shattering it on impact. For good measure he used a two handed grip to casually snap his ankle as well, before nonchalantly dropping the leg to the ground and flipping his prey on his back. He leant down to gaze in Mitchells eyes, glazed over in pain and placed his massive boot on his chest. He reached down to slap Iceman in the face, snapping him out of the haze he had fallen into, and when his eyes sharpened, SuMa took joy in the fact that he had finally gotten the stoic man to show emotion. His eyes were full of fear. Well concealed, but obvious. With a malicious laughter, SuMa pushed down on his chest, enough to make sure it was felt but not enough to cause damage and spoke in a low growl. “Tell us, Iceman… are you ready to die?”
As he spoke those words, the look on Mitchell’s face changed. To SuMa’s surprise, fear melted into something else. Acceptance. Even relief. Never breaking eye contact, Mitchell spat out a glob of blood and responded with a pained breath and a hoarse voice. “Do it.” It was a weak response, and Mitchell desperately tried to gather his strength to continue. “Balance out the red in my ledger…” he muttered, swaying on the edge of unconsciousness.
SuMa found himself amused by the cliched expression used by Mitchell, rolling his eyes at it while he lifted his boot up, hovering it above his chest. He knew that all he had to do was push it down with full force, caving in his chest and it would be over, the Iceman would be no more. And Mitchell knew it too, closing his eyes in serene resignation, waiting for the inevitable end. There was nothing but silence broken only by the ragged breaths of the downed man… and then a heavy thud echoed. “No. Death is too good for you” SuMa growled at Mitchell, who opened his eyes to see that SuMa’s massive boot had landed on the concrete floor next to his head, so hard that the old material had cracked deeply. “Living with failure is a worse punishment for you.” SuMa continued, pulling his leg back and standing up straight, then turning to leave the gravely injured man.
Mitchells followed his departing back, eyes wide in bewilderment. That night “Iceman” Adam Mitchell learned that Supreme Machine wasn’t just a merciless killing machine. No, he was something more, something worse. He learned that Supreme Machine knew what true suffering was.. And how sometimes dying is the easy way our. And most of all… Adam Mitchell learned that Supreme Machine was not someone you should mess with. And it was a painful lesson, one that he would remember for the rest of his days.
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We open up to a rather odd view. It’s daytime, the sun is shining down in the streets of Los Angeles. And amongst the crowd of people milling about in front of the Galen Center, stands the 6’9’’ masked monster known to the wrestling world as Supreme Machine. SuMa has thrown a hooded jacket over his normally bare torso, yet his sheer physical presence attracts the attention of many on-lookers. The camera zooms in closer to him, and he begins to speak in a low, gruff voice that is more like a growl than any human sound.
“Blaze of Glory. What a fitting name. The last month in SCW hasn’t exactly gone to plan for us… Goth managed to bring us unconscious long enough to defeat us… Bane turned on us simply because we were ready to do whatever was necessary to help his cause… And thus, instead of sitting at the top of the card challenging for the World Heavyweight championship… we are relegated to a gauntlet match with men who are so far below our level they are barely worth mentioning.”
SuMa raises his head, pulling the hood that covers his face up just enough to reveal the leather mask that hides most of his face, and the mangled lips that are his most striking and defining feature. A quick murmur goes around in the crowd as those who haven’t seen him before are surprised by his appearance. SuMa casts a disgusted glance around him before continuing, ignoring the gathering masses.
“Yet… We haven’t forgotten the betrayal of Bane. One day. Sooner than he thinks… we will exact our vengeance on him. This gauntlet match… is for a championship opportunity. And unless the SCW management is a group of spineless fools… and unless Bane shits the bed and loses the title… We will be using the one we will win to challenge him…”
He pauses for a moment, chuckling as he glances over his shoulder to a banner hanging on the side of the Galen Center, one advertising the Internet Championship match between the champion Davison and the challengers Washington and… “The Raven” Matt Knox. He looks at the banner for a while, then continues.
“Of course… if the above things happen… we have another target. Depending on who triumphs amongst the grandstading fools… We will take great pleasure in either destroying Bane’s ally, the man who went to his knees on command like the dog he is and acted as the force to trip us in Davison… Or we will engage in a battle long coming with the Raven. Sure. both of them might live up to their nature as failures and drop the ball to Washington… but him we have already triumphed over… so he is not a factor. So many variables of our future path. So many options. Yet, one stands above all and the rest are but consolation prizes. Mark Ward should pay close attention to our words. Because if we are denied what we demand… there WILL be blood. And the blood of those innocents will be on his hands.”
The masked monster delivers his threat with an intense voice, yet he never raises it. He doesn’t need to. The masses around him seem to agree as they are slowly edging closer and closer to the man, not realizing that venturing too close is risky, as one over-eager man realized as he got swatted to the face for trying to reach out and touch SuMa. Not letting this distract him, the monster continued.
“So the Gauntlet… The list of names we are looking at is pathetic. Romano… a biker who thinks he can wrestle. Kasey, who we already defeated long ago. Then a pair of nobodies we have never heard of nor do we care about… and then there is Goth. The man who managed to subdue us… momentarily. See, Goth… we do not forget. Nor do we forgive. You can count on one thing when the bell rings at Blaze of Glory. You will bleed. You will be hurt. And depending on how much you try to resist us… you will suffer. We will make it our mission that even if by some stroke of luck someone manages to eliminate us… we will bring you down before that. You will be the main focus of our aggression. We will take you and tear you to pieces little by little. As the whole world watches Goth.. .you will be broken. Physically and Mentally. That we guarantee. And anyone who tries to intervene. Trying to get involved will suffer the same fate. You will be alone the Goth, without escape, without respite. That is your future. We hope you are prepared.”
As he began to proclaim what he had in store for Goth, the crowd began to murmur again. The sheer bluntness of his words shocking some of the folks, while enticing others. Suffice to say, by coming out to the daylight, SuMa had raised the interest in the upcoming match quite a lot.
“Kasey. Do you still remember the last time you faced us? We left you crumpled on the floor, hurt and bleeding. Are you willing or able to go through the same ordeal this time? Are you willing to risk your own well-being once again? See… this time Fenris is busy. The white wolf is fighting a foe just as great as we were. He won’t have the energy nor the time to watch out after you. This time you are at our mercy… and we have none. If you were smart Kasey… you would not show up. You would remain backstage and watch as we destroy everyone… and then surrender without a fight. Because that is the only way you will be getting out of Blaze of Glory in one piece… mark our words. Question us and die.”
The crowd had already started to form into groups. Some had taken place behind SuMa, as if to signify they stand with him, while others keep their distance, not sure if they are disgusted or terrified of the masked monster. SuMa himself doesn’t seem to care as he continues.
“Romano… We can’t be bothered to speak of you too much. You are a non-entity. A biker who has no business being in the ring. When the time comes to put you out of your misery, we won’t even enjoy it… It will be just something we will do to get where we want to be. You are a stain Romano, a complete joke… and nobody is laughing. How you ever triumphed enough to claim the Internet title… we have no idea. It probably tells more about your opponent than about you. Come to Blaze of Glory, Romano… and we will make sure you will not just never wrestle again.. But you will never race again. We will spit in your face and break your legs just because we can. To hammer home just how much of a pathetic joke you are. Be smart Romano… don’t show up. Leave, go race your toy cycles. You are a disgrace.”
His lashing of Romano elicited a mixed reaction. Apparently there are now actual pre-existing SCW fans coming to the scene. It was Los Angeles after all, so something like that doesn’t go unnoticed for long. SuMa begins to pace around the area, shoving aside any onlooker unfortunate enough to remain in his path.
“Whelan. Your name is completely foreign to us. During our time in SCW, you have never done anything remotely worthy for us to pay attention to. And that alone speaks volumes of just how insignificant you are. You are a non-entity. Someone in here just to make up the numbers. And that shall be your fate. That shall be your destiny. You will enter, nobody will care, you will get eliminated and nobody will care. You will go about your life and nobody will care. Your great misfortune was to be put in a match with us. Had it been anyone else in this match you might’ve been able to continue your worthless existence in peace, just going through the motions and being there to make up the numbers. But we do not operate like that. You are our prey the second you step into the ring, the second the bell rings. And you will pay in blood for the transgressions of others”
It is obvious SuMa can’t be bothered to speak about Finn anymore, stopping his pacing and staring at the camera again, something in his posture changing.
“Then there is MacDonald. Jaycee… or just JC. It is amazing how many people there are in this business who call themselves by that. And we have fought the best of the JC’s. He barely triumphed. A deed he will not repeat should our paths cross again. But at Blaze of Glory THAT JC will be fighting Fenris… And we are stuck with the cheap knockoff. The only one to have said their piece before us. Something we applaud. But his words… showed his ignorance. Calling us an attack dog. Someone in need of a handler. He fails to see the forest from the trees… He sees our size and our appearance and signs us off as just another monster. When we are so much more. It took the very best in SCW to put us down at Inception, and even then with great difficulty. We got recruited by Mac Bane because he wanted someone who can do things he can… only to back down when public pressure got too much. See, JC… there is something the esteemed champion fails to mention… we have already beaten Bane before. And if we have beaten Bane… what hope do you think you have? Are we just a monster, nothing but strength and size? You should hope so… because you clearly have made up your mind about your gameplan, about your approach… so when we subvert your expectations… when we show intellect and creativity… you will be caught unaware, unprepared… unable to react. Go ahead JC… sell us short. Mock us. Ridicule us. It will all just serve our ends when we take you along with everyone else in the match and break you open like a ripe fruit.”
SuMa stands up to his full height and spreads his arms on the side in a crucifix pose, a hush of expectation running over the crowd surrounding him
“We are Supreme Machine. At Blaze of Glory we will dominate the gauntlet and afterwards… we will see revenge on Bane. We will take the championship opportunity we are granted and claim it on Bane… And if Bane chokes… if Bane loses.. We will take it on either Davison or The Raven. We have set out stakes. Now… Goth. Romano. Whelan. JC. Kasey. Come and face us.”
The camera zooms right in and you can see SuMa smiling in a creepy manner.
“Our Path of Destruction continues…”
With that, the view fades to black