Not just strength (offcam)
In the rundown part of the city there is an old warehouse, one that hadn’t seen use or care in decades. Until now. Until a being that is beyond a man in many ways decided to take refuge there and to move forward with a new plan, one that would change the fate of all those who were worthy. The derelict structure had been painstakingly restored and refurbished on the inside, its rotten walls and rusting pillars repaired and replaced to make it livable and inhabitable. And there, in that oasis in the concrete wasteland Supreme Machine was growing his cult. The surrounding neighborhoods were prime recruiting fields. Desperate and destitute people looking for some purpose, ANY purpose, the slightest chance to be part of something more, the slightest chance for something better were flocking to his doorstep. Yet, he did not welcome everyone. No. Only those who had what it took to adhere to his teachings, his brutal and straightforward way of life. Kill or be Killed. Adapt or Die. Only the strong survive. It was a simple guideline, yet one that required so much… yet it didn’t stop everyone from trying. And that is what he was doing today. Observing the recent round of hopefuls go through the trials he had created. Trials that would expose their weaknesses and ascertain their strengths. Trials that once undertaken would determine their fate. People of all kinds showed up for them. Gangbangers who smelled which way the wind was blowing. Beggars and hookers looking for some other way to live. Even drunkards and drug addicts tried their luck. SuMa allowed everyone to try. Yet he only gave one chance. You fail once and you are forever barred.
SuMa was observing the final trial for those who had made it this far. A Massive melee where he tested the will to survive, the strength to fight and any other qualities that would allow his disciples to succeed in the struggle. He knew strength wasn’t everything. That physical might only got you to a certain distance. So he was looking for people with more. Who showed guile. Intellect. Creativity. Opportunism. And he saw one. A slim, wiry man. Not a fighter but clearly used to defending himself. He wasn’t diving head first into the fray, ducking and weaving amongst the fighting group, staying on the sidelines and looking for a chance to strike at an exposed target. Picking his spots, never letting himself be caught in a disadvantage. SuMa watched him intently. It wasn’t just his actions that drew his eye. But his body language. It spoke of confidence, spoke of ease. He wasn’t intimidated or worried. Almost dancing in between the charging bulls.
Finally he had seen enough and he walked into the melee. He didn’t say anything, his sheer presence caused the fighting to stop, especially after one unfortunate man had been pushed against him and received an offhanded swat that sent him to the ground for his troubles. All the dozen participants of the fight stood in place and looked at the 6’9’’ masked monster with looks that were a mixture of awe, respect, fear and hope. “Line up.” He said, without the need to raise his voice. The effect was instant and all men did as they were told, lining up in front of him like army recruits. SuMa walked to the end of the line and began moving down it. He stopped in front of a man, nodding at him. “You.” Without elaborating he continued, stopping in front of two other men, doing the same before walking back to where he started and looking at all of them. “Go with him.” He pointed at one of his second in commands, marked by two scars in his face, named Jake. The selected men went to him and left the room while SuMa continued looking at the men still standing in a line. “Pathetic.” That was all he needed to say, the heads of the men still standing on the line hung and their shoulders fell as they began to file out of the room. SuMa watched the line and got the attention of his other second in command, the two-scarred woman by the name of Belinda. SuMa pointed at the wiry man at the end of the line. “Bring him to us.” He stated without any further explanation. None was needed though as Belinda saw the man being pointed and nodded as SuMa left the room, heading for his private chamber at the end of the warehouse, on its second floor.
After a few minutes a knock could be heard on the door to the dim room. SuMa acknowledged it with a grunt, not even bothering to face the door as he gazed out of the small window carved into the bare concrete wall. The door opened with a creak and in walked Belinda with the wiry man cautiously following her, a glimpse of two large men in hooded jackets could be seen before the door closed behind the pair. Belinda waited for the masked man to speak, yet he didn’t. As the silence continued and became awkward, almost oppressive, especially to the wiry man fidgeting behind the hooded woman, she finally spoke up. “Master” she started cautiously. Even if she was his favorite disciple, one of the two marked with a second scar, she was keenly aware of his unpredictability. “I have fulfilled your order, he is here.” she finally finished the sentence.
Nothing happened for what seemed like hours. The wiry man was already looking at his options to flee as the whole situation filled him with dread. But just as Belinda was about to speak up for a second time, SuMa finally reacted, pointing at the door. She blinked, but realized what he meant without further prompting, so she left the room and closed the door behind her, giving an indecipherable look to the wiry man as she passed. After the door was closed, silence continued to hang in the room, the wiry man considering whether it was worth speaking up himself. Until the low, gravelly voice of SuMa finally froze him in place. “Name.” It was a simple question, yet the wiry man couldn’t help but to dig for a deeper meaning. His failure to respond seemed to irritate the masked man as SuMa turned to face him, a small growl emanating from his chest as he repeated. “Name.”
Blinking and swallowing hard, the wiry man considered for a fleeting moment if he had completely fucked up. So he rushed to respond. “Rolston, Michael Rolston.” His voice was shaky, even if he was doing his best to steady it. He felt like he was in the same room with a hungry lion. Somehow instinctively he knew must not show any signs of weakness… even if the whole situation made him regret ever coming there.
As a response to him naming himself, SuMa pulled off his mask to reveal the mutilated face that hid beneath. The nose broken a dozen times over, the cheeks marred by jagged scars. Mangled lips twisted in a menacing snarl. “We watched you.” He spoke in a low growl. “And we have a question… Michael.” He paused, cocking his head to the left, one of his many physical ticks. But his stare, intense like the crushing draw of a black hole, never left Rolstons eyes, locking him in place. “Do you have what it takes? The potential to be one of us…” The question was left hanging in midair, leaving the tension palpable.
Rolston had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. The cold gaze of those black, coal-like eyes triggering his fight or flight instinct something fierce, yet he knew he could not win nor could he flee. All he could do was swallow and try to formulate a response. “I…” It was extremely uncommon for Michael Rolston to stutter or be left wordless. He had survived his whole 25 years of life on the street off the back of his ability to smoothtalk his way out of trouble, his quick reflexes that allowed him to evade any unfavorable encounters and his brainpower that had always let him outsmart anyone he came across, be it swindling for profit or finding an out. Yet now,none of those helped. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know I was good enough.” he finally got out, finding some of that silver tongue that had saved his ass so many times. “I’m not a musclehead. I am not a gangbanger. Yet those streets? They haven’t broken me. You must see it too…” He paused, seeing the slightest tightening around the corners of SuMa’s eyes. “... Master” he bowed his head, partly to show respect but mostly to escape that stare.
It didn’t help. SuMa reached for his jaw and forcibly janked his head up so their eyes met again. Sweat began to form on Rolstons brow as he felt his grip, strong, but not strong enough to break anything… yet he could feel that the hand possessed the strength to rip his jaw clean off in one go if the monster so chose. He tried to read SuMa’s expression, but it was completely unreadable. Even more of a mask than the leather one that currently hung on the monsters other hand. Finally SuMa let go of him and nodded. “We do see it.” he said, again not wasting any more words than necessary. “You have more than strength. You have potential.” SuMa straightened up and walked over back to the window, turning his back to Rolston. “You pass.”
Rolston stood there dumbfounded. All the tension began to slowly seep out of his muscles as the monsters words got processed. He had been confident that he had what it took, but when he had been brought to this room, alone with him, all the stories he had heard began to roll in his head. Of how nobody ever left this room. Those who entered were never seen again. And so on and so forth, all the way to the most ridiculous rumors of SuMa actually eating his victims, that he killed for fun. The masked monster was brutal, no doubt, intimidating, definitely… but Rolston began understood there was a method to his madness. So when he confirmed that Rolston had passed… it both seemed unreal, and perfectly logical. Rolston pondered whether he should just leave, or do something. Or just wait. Ultimately he decided to try his luck. “Do you need anything else… master? Should I pledge my loyalty? Give an oath?” His voice had an unsure edge to it, but at the same time, honeyed words like that were his specialty.
The monster that the violent gangs that used to control this area of the city spoke of hushed tones let out a surprisingly warm chuckle. “An oath? Why not…” He turned to face Rolston, straightening to his full height, that was often concealed by his slight hunch, something any tall person immediately recognized.
Rolston felt a bit of relief as he seemed to be getting into the monster's good graces right from the get go as he took a step closer, preparing to drop to a knee in a show of submission, but as soon as he was within the monsters reach, he swung his hand at Rolson, his fingers brushing just past his face with incredible, almost unobservable speed. And the first thing that Rolston realized about the strike was a burst of pain on his cheek and the wetness of blood dripping down his jawline. He recoiled away from the masked monster, his hand shooting up to his face, a gasp escaping his lips as he felt the thick plasma seeping from a wound.
Confused, Rolston looked up at SuMa, who had a satisfied grin on his mangled lips and blinked. SuMa could see the question on his face and slowly raised his hand, showing a razorblade nestled between his fingertips. Stains of old blood had caked on the blade, but it was clearly still sharp as ever. “That is your oath…” He pointed at the cut that had been sliced into Rolston’s cheek. “Now everyone knows you are one of us. Forever.” He raised the razorblade to his own face, gently tracing the scars from the glasgow grin cut into him all those years ago, hammering home the symbolism of the cut. “And all that follow us know that the only option is absolute loyalty… Or a fate worse than death.” He turned around, pointing at the door. “You may leave. Find Belinda. Or Jake. They will get you up to speed.” His words had an air of finality about them.
Knowing that was his cue to leave, Rolston opened the door and stepped out, being met by a dozen or so fellow disciples who were chanting “one of us” at him, while Jake and Belinda approached him, Jake handing him one of the hooded jackets that the rest of them were wearing while Belinda was carefully wiping away blood and dirt from the cut on his cheek in an almost motherly manner. And for some reason Michael Rolston felt like he was home.
Face to Face (offcam)
When the card for Climax Control was released, SuMa felt a rare tinge of anticipation. He was getting Mac Bane. The man who disrespected him by casting him out of his little group. A group that was rapidly falling apart. It was a war that had been in the making a lot longer than anyone in SCW really knew, except maybe for a select few. Those who had been around back in October when SuMa and Bane fought in OCW. When SuMa defeated him. A wary respect had formed between the two. And now… after twists and turns, they were to wage war again. After he had finally gotten rid from the surveillance by the Iceman, SuMa had been able to establish his presence. Swell the ranks of his disciples. Make himself untouchable in the streets. Just as he was going to make himself untouchable in SCW. The base of operations he had set up was bustling with activity that was increasing day after day.
But at the same time as outwardly he was safer and more dangerous than ever, his reach expanding beyond his own machinations… He had a problem. A big one. One that he could not make to go away with violence or threats. One that existed within him. Tom. That fateful night when SuMa tried to punish Jennifer for daring to sic the Iceman on him, Tom had wrested control and forced SuMa on the backfoot. And when the time came to wage a war with Mac.. .he might be able to do it again. Because over the decade and a half that SuMa and Tom had existed as two entities in one body… SuMa had figured out a pattern to Tom’s ability to interfere, one that he was certain Tom knew as well. He was able to overpower the will of the monster when Jennifer, their sister, was concerned… or when SuMa was exhausted, both physically and mentally. When the monster was vulnerable.
That was a very likely scenario come Climax Control. Why? Because Mac Bane was no slouch. From the top of his head SuMa could name only two men who had proven to be as tough as Bane. And those were the Raven and The Bogeyman. While Bane hadn’t been on their level on their previous encounter, this time SuMa was certain he would bring the fight to a whole new level. Last time it was just pride on the line. This time… it was the one thing that drove Mac Bane. The SCW World title. So SuMa knew that it would take absolutely everything he had to put down the cowboy. Even in victory, he would have nothing left in the tank. And the last thing he needed was to get Mac broken and beaten at his feet… only for Tom to step in and destroy his moment of triumph out of sheer spite… or out of a misguided need to prevent another encounter with the Raven, who was poised as the next one to challenge the champion.
And it was clear to the masked monster that Tom did not want another war with the Raven, their cousin. Because those wars they’d had in the past had nearly destroyed both of them. To SuMa, Tom’s interference would just make sense. As even if he could assert control… He wouldn’t want to stand dominant in a broken down useless shell. So SuMa needed to make sure Tom stayed away from his fight with Mac. And that is something SuMa could not let pass. So he went to his chamber in the warehouse and sat down on the corner of the dark room, ready to try a trick he learned from his sister who had used it to deal with her manifestation of the family affliction, a way to look inward, to get a face-to-face encounter with his other half. It wasn’t something he really found enjoyable as a thought, but it was something he needed to do. So he focused, calmed down and searched deep within his own consciousness, drifting deeper and deeper into the dark abyss that rested within.
SuMa felt as his surroundings changed, the stale air of his chamber changing to a fresh outside air, well under the stench of filth and death atleast. He opened his eyes and looked around himself, seeing a dark alleyway around him, nestled between two old brick buildings. The only illumination was offered by the yellowish light from a single lightpost standing at the entrance to the alleyway, but for someone used to traversing the dark, it was enough. He scanned his surroundings more carefully and began moving deeper into the alley, rounding a corner and seeing what he was looking for, bathed in dim light from another lightpost. He tensed and a small growl escaped his lips, as even if it was what he was looking for, it still caused a stir in his normally stoic demeanor.
A ghost of his past. Thomas Rivers. The man who 15 years ago succumbed to SuMa’s domination. The mental projection of the once-solitary personality was sitting on a filthy bench, with a giant cast-iron shackle attaching his neck to the brick wall behind him, appearing like he did all those years ago, before his life went to hell. Even the unshakeable masked monster was taken slightly aback by the uncanny resemblance the two held, which while making all kinds of sense… was still uncomfortable. The man that once was, stood at the same size as SuMa, but his skin bore none of the scars that marked all the wars he had gone through. His hair was curly and shiny instead of the dull, greasy matted mane that cascaded down SuMa’s head. His face was handsome, boyish. Untainted by the Glasgow grin. But the most striking difference was the eyes. Even in his captured state, Thomas’ eyes had life in them. A mischievous sparkle and a kind warmth. A stark contrast to the dead, coal-like eyes that those caught in SuMa’s stare saw. Time passed, it felt like an eternity until Thomas raised his head in curiosity and cocked his head to the left, shaking his head. “Well, whaddaya know. You’re the one person I thought I’d never see from this perspective.” He chuckled and stood up, the chain rattling loudly as he glanced at it. “Or at all to be honest.” His eyes met the monsters and the hazel iris’ that stared at him made the monster oddly uncomfortable. “What brings you to my humble abode?” Tom quipped with tired humor. He was very curious about this encounter.
“Business that required us meeting face to face, weakling” SuMa growled at him. The irritation he felt when looking at the manifestation of his past self was getting under his skin something fierce. As he looked at the innocent-looking man, he couldn’t help but to think just how much more he could accomplish if he didn’t have to dedicate so much of his will and his power at every moment to suppressing him. If he didn’t need to deal with the baggage that came from the weakling that stood chained in front of him. The eternal, inner struggle that drained the strength of both. And his irritation was only amplified by the fact that he couldn’t exist without Thomas. That without him, the monster that was Supreme Machine wouldn’t be here today. A mutually parasitic existence that neither could escape. “What happened with our sister must never repeat. NEVER. We are not kidding weakling. We are going to wage war with Bane… And we cannot allow you to distract us.” His voice was low, menacing. But it wavered a bit when he realized that Tom wasn’t showing any signs of intimidation. Just… the acceptance of the inevitable.
The chained man shrugged. “I know. Did you forget what you see, I see. And what you hear, I hear. I’m well aware of what’s coming. And its implications.” Tom was referring to the potential battle with Knox. But he wasn’t provoking SuMa. His whole body language radiated resignation. “I think Mac did the right thing. So I wouldn’tve gone after him. But you… I know you won’t let it rest until one crushed the other. And the last thing I need… is you to start another seemingly eternal war.” He paused and sighed. “And if it comes down to you and Knox… Well what can I say. He has your number. He’ll put you down.” Now he was slightly poking the monster. Not like he could hurt him anymore than he already did. But the slight bit of resistance waned quickly as Tom rattled his chains. “Not like I can do much even if I do break these. Distract you for a moment at best.” There was a silence as Tom weighed his next words ,with SuMa waiting with unflinching patience, refusing to show the emotions swirling inside. “If it makes you feel better, that incident with Jenny… it sapped me too.”
The masked monster studied Tom carefully. Looking for any signs of dishonesty or attempted deception. From experience he knew Tom wasn’t the kind of man to lie to someone's face. Not even when he could grab an advantage from it. But SuMa himself had no problem misleading someone or telling them what they wanted to hear, to reach his goal, to open them up for a fatal blow later. Because evil cannot comprehend good, he had a hard time accepting that Tom wasn’t like that. But he found no signs, not even the slightest. So he had to begrudgingly believe that Tom was being sincere. “That is all we wanted to hear from you.” He muttered as he turned around, now wanting to look at his uncanny doppelganger anymore. The amount of discomfort he was feeling was befuddling him, but he filed it away for later examination. Now he just wanted to get out of this weird mindscape he came into. “Don’t expect to see us again” was what he intended to be his last words as he began to walk away.
He was stopped mid-stride though as he heard Tom shouting for him. “Wait, I got one more thing I want to say” The tone of his voice was almost pleading, and despite his better judgment, SuMa stopped and turned around. He saw Tom studying him, with careful curiosity and even a sense of wonder. “Those people. Your.. .disciples. I never thought I’d say this but… you’re doing a good thing.” The approving warmth in his voice as he said that struck SuMa like a whip. It was so out of place, out of character.
Grinding his teeth, SuMa stared down his literal better half, trying to decipher his intent. “So you approve of us… making more people like us?” He took two long steps and forcefully grabbed Tom’s cheek, for a passing moment amazed that he could actually touch him, considering this was literally all in his head. He forced the chained man still so he could stare right in his eyes, trying to gauge his motivations. “You should hate it. You should be against it. We represent EVERYTHING you despise. And those people? They will be like us…Serve us…” His voice had dropped to a quiet whisper, his enunciation underlining the threat.
Doing his best to shrug despite the iron grip on his jaw and the shackle weighing him down, Tom made no show of the discomfort he was feeling as he responded with a steady voice. “You’re right, I should. But to my own surprise, I don’t.” He tried to smile, an act also impeded by the thumb-and-forefinger clamp on his cheeks. “But… what you are doing is an improvement for them. No matter how sinister your intentions… you are giving them hope for a better tomorrow. And hope my scarred friend… dies last.” He said the last two words while returning the steely gaze, putting a strange emphasis on them. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the unpredictable monster. But as far as he knew, things really couldn’t get worse.
Cocking his head slowly from side to side, SuMa chewed over Tom’s words, once again looking for a deeper meaning, a hidden motive. But he couldn’t find one, to his own frustration. He slowly relinquished his deathgrip on the chained mans face and stepped back, reluctantly convinced of his sincerity. “Your approval is irrelevant, weakling.” He muttered, downplaying the implications. “But if that means you will not attempt to interfere with our plans… then that is relevant.” He turned around and began to move away again. “Just know… deception carries a heavy price.” SuMa growled over his shoulder just before rounding the corner and disappearing.
As the broad back of the monster vanished from sight, and a moment later the feeling of his presence from the mindscape in full, tom let his head hang, leaning against the brick wall that he was chained to. Keeping his thoughts out of the monster's reach was enough to leave him drained. “I know…” He whispered to himself. “But those who follow you will eventually see your true face… what you really are… and end you.” It was his dim hope, one that he clung to. That was all he had left. The effort of saving Jenny had taken everything he had. To a point that he had nearly vanished, leaving the monster in charge permanently. He knew SuMa thought one couldn’t exist without the other… but Tom knew better. It was one of the many pieces of knowledge about the family affliction he had managed to keep to himself, hide so deep inside that the monster could not uncover it. So as he had nothing left to fight the monster with.. .he had to play nice with him and hope that the disciples he was teaching might makes right, survival of the fittest… would eventually reach a point where the student became the teacher… and ended the monsters existence… and with that, Tom’s own miserable suffering. Because Tom knew Mac Bane couldn’t. Matt Knox couldn’t. And Thomas Rivers couldn’t. So his hope rested on the very men and women who called his dark half master.
And it was better than nothing.
Great men (oncam)
The view opens on a sunny day on the streets of Zakynthos, Greece, the location for the next SCW Climax Control. Walking down the street, with the local onlookers watching in awe, is the 6’9’’ masked monster known as Supreme Machine, with about a dozen or so of his disciples walking in lockstep behind him. Everyone, the monster included, is wearing a similar hooded jacket that covers their heads and most of their faces, despite the sweltering heat that bathes the Mediterranean resort city. Suddenly SuMa stops, and the whole entourage follows suit. We see SuMa staring at a poster advertising the coming show, especially its main event. With a small chuckle, SuMa speaks up.
“So here we are… the battle that everyone has been waiting for. The SCW World champion… Mac Bane… against the monster he so foolishly cast out of his group.”
The entourage boos, causing SuMa to gesture for them to quiet down, which they do instantaneously. He turns to face the camera that is being carried by one of his disciples and shakes his head, a small smile dancing on the mangled lips barely visible below the leather mask that hides his face..
“It is amusing when you think about it, Bane. You recruited us. You came to us and wanted our help… to be part of your little saviors, with the intent of ruling SCW with an iron fist. Yet… you rule nothing. Sure. You are the champion. Yet you have proven in the past that you can do it without help… But let's look at the rest shall we? Davison… choked before the eyes of the Raven. Failing to retain his title. Strife… fled like the yellow-bellied coward he was before he took a single impactful action. Your wife… Red… Has lost herself completely. Failing to retain HER pride and joy… the Bombshells world title… and now nuzzling to the lusty embrace of the Raven. And even if Goth managed to outwit us… it won’t be enough. Everything you’ve built Bane… is coming crashing down. And on Sunday? We will take the very last piece of the puzzle and tear it from your grasp.”
He points towards a word on the poster he stands next to. “SCW World Heavyweight Championship”, underlining his words. He then gestures at the entourage following him, a twisted sense of accomplishment seeping in his voice.
“You must understand something, Bane. Betraying us is not something we let slide. We do not forget. Nor do we forgive. You made the gravest error in your career by casting us out. But the amusing thing is… your decision to refuse our methods… gave us a reason to find our true purpose. Our true calling. And we found it. While your group, your powerbase has been slowly but surely imploding… ours has grown. Soon we will have more control, more power than you could ever dream of having. And we owe that partly to you. But here is the real problem with you Bane… and the real reason everything you’ve tried to accomplish will come crashing down. See, you have the strength to rule as you wish. But strength isn’t everything. What you lack is the drive. The will. The resolve to do what is necessary to maintain your spot. We went above and beyond to make sure that the Raven stays out of your path. But your morals could not allow it. You were afraid that you would be perceived poorly. That you and your group would be hated for what we did. A true ruler does not pander to the opinion of the unwashed masses. A TRUE ruler asserts his dominance… and crushes those who dare to question him. You lack the stomach to do that. To BE that.”
The entourage reacts with small cheers to his words, and this time SuMa lets them ring out as he approaches the camera, taking a posture that is half-lecturing and half-preaching as he speaks directly to the camera or more specifically to anyone watching with an intense voice that matches the stare he is giving.
“A man of principle… never succeeds. A man of morals… rules only until someone with true power steps forward. History does not remember kind rulers Bane. It remembers successful ones. Ivan the Terrible. Vlad the Impaler. Alexander the Great. Julius Caesar. Ragnar Lothbrok. Charlemagne. Frederick the Great. Napoleon. They are not remembered for their kindness or their upstanding character. They are remembered for being men who were not afraid to go beyond what is considered just. They were not afraid to assert their rule with force and cruelty. Superior intellect combined with superior will… You will never be truly great Bane. And we already know what you will counter our argument with… how the reigns of many of the mentioned ended before their time. Yes… that is true. Because the weak always band together to upset the strong. But… Unlike those weak leaders… history remembers the strong. The names we mentioned? They ring out to this day. The consequences of their actions and their triumphs can be felt on the world even today. Great men cast long shadows Bane. And to become truly great… you must be willing to do WHATEVER is needed. You… will never be truly great.”
SuMa pauses and takes a deep breath, which is dotted with small chuckling. The masked monster seems to be enjoying himself immensely and putting on a show not just for the camera but for the slowly gathering crowd of onlookers who most likely had never seen a scene quite like the one SuMa was putting up.
“And after saying all this Bane… There is one thing we have yet to mention. One thing that truly stands out above all else. The one reason why you recruited us in the first place. We already beat you. You wanted us on your side because you know you cannot defeat us. You know you do not have the capability to put us down. We have your number Bane… and you know it. Yet… your pride forced you to turn on us. Your desperate need to be loved and respected opened you up for the fall that will come in our hands. Pride… comes before the fall Bane. And when people look back at the history of SCW… when they look at this friday and what comes after… all they will remember is the strong vanquishing the weak. The mighty stomping all over the frail. As it should be. We will end your reign. We will end your relevance. We will end the joke that is the Saviors. And most importantly… we will end… YOU.”
The masked monster stomps the ground with all his might to put emphasis on his point, the sudden violent action startling the onlookers while the entourage seemed completely unbothered. When SuMa speaks following that show of force, his voice can only be described as mocking.
“Yes. you will brag. You will boast. You will huff and puff like you are the big bad wolf. You will posture. You will put up a front of determination. Yet deep under that mask of confidence Bane… you are scared. Scared because we have the power to expose you to the world. Expose you as the fraud you are. As the weak, pathetic child who years for recognition and for respect. A child who cannot deal with the consequences of his actions. Climax Control 327 is where it all ends. For good.”
He walks into his entourage, being surrounded by his disciples on all sides as he throws his hands into crucifix pose, the entire entourage mimicking the action.
“We are the reaper Mac Bane. And your name is up.”
And with that, the view fades to black.