Post by stormangel on Apr 4, 2006 14:20:04 GMT -5
The air was cold and brisk as the large man walked outside of the arena. His long braided hair hung over his face as he stooped to go through the door, so he flicked his head back violently, sending the stark white braids to whip backwards. He still wore his wrestling gear, with a simple black leather trenchcoat over it.
Outside the arena was quiet. American Nightmare had waited a while to leave, wanting to avoid the crowds, as Willard had warned him that the owner loved to give fines. Nightmare had no qualms of stuffing an annoying fan into the nearest ventilation duct, so it was a valid idea to avoid them for now. It gave him time to think… to stew.
His debut was disappointing, at least for himself. No one had to be carried out in a stretcher. He never had a chance to lock in the Dreamkiller, nor deliver a vicious Dream’s End. Next week would have to be different. An example would have to be made. As he strode through the parking lot to get into his Humvee, his thoughts were interrupted.
“Hey hey,” a voice called out from behind him. “I knew if I just waited I’d beat Glenda on talking to you.”
Nightmare turned slowly and deliberate, his head turning and cocking a bit as his eyes locked with man that had been behind him. Miguel Malone stood there with microphone in hand and a cameraman to his left. Miguel was too lost in his own glee to notice the intimidating sneer on the newcomer’s face, but the cameraman took a cautious step backwards.
“Miguel Malone here with PCW’s newest acquisition, the man known as the American Nightmare. His debut against Blade Lionheart ended in a win for the giant, albeit by disqualification. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Right big guy?”
American Nightmare said nothing as he leaned in slightly. Miguel looked at him curiously in return, unsure of what to make of the big man. His enthusiasm was beginning to mix with a bit of uneasiness.
“So umm… you’ve been wrestling professionally for years, earning a reputation for brutality that some say goes beyond human limits. Any comments you’d like to make on that?”
AN leaned in more as he towered over the interviewer, until his head hovered above Miguel’s. He then sniffed his hair, causing Miguel to step backwards uncomfortably. AN then smiled coldly as he patted the man on the head as if he was but a small child. “I love the fragrance of fear. It has an aroma that is intoxicating. In the animal world, predators recognize this smell. That is the reason the wolf chases the deer, hounding it to exhaustion before moving in for the kill. The pheromones released, the endorphins… they are exhilarating, are they not?”
“Um, sure,” Miguel nodded in agreement.
AN extended his arm in front of him, bringing his hand in front of his face, his fingers outstretched. “The wolf has his prey worn down. The deer is barely able to move as it tries to find strength in its feeble legs. The wolf should be tired as well, but it has controlled the situation from the beginning. He has not had to expend the same effort, for he has always been in control. From the moment that deer and wolf had locked eyes, the prey knew that it was doomed. It was just a matter of time.”
“Oh yeah I get you man,” Miguel commented in return. “Next week at Trauma you are to face Seth Sinn. Your thoughts on the Enigma?”
AN cocked his head in thought for a second. “An Enigma? An enigma is only a mystery for as long as someone such as I am not around. I will rip him to pieces and unravel his every secret with expert dissection of the most cold-blooded surgeon. My hands shall be my scalpel, the ring my theater of operation. Anthony Douglas let you off easily last week Sinn. Were you to be locked into the Dreamkiller, you’d not only tap, I’d not let go till I had ripped your arms from their frail sockets.”
“So you think you can beat him without your longtime friend Jason Willard at ringside?”
American Nightmare paused and glared at Miguel menacingly. His nostrils began to flare as his moniker of being the Rage Machine became noticeably evident. “Listen and listen closely, for I SHALL NOT REPEAT! I do not need anyone to defeat a whelp like Seth Sinn. This federation is weak and shall become ours soon enough. Nightmare 2 Society will envelop this place in pain and despair and make it our own. But make no mistake little man. I don’t need them to beat any of these pathetic fools the Captain may throw at me.” With that he grabbed the camera from the cameraman, easily taking it away. His face came in close to it and he glared directly into the lens. “SETH SINN! Look into my eyes and see the eyes of the wolf. The eyes of a predator. I will hunt you down. I will break you emotionally, mentally. When we are in the ring, you will be thankful when I break you physically, for it will feel like I am merciful. But it shall not be mercy. It will just be me putting out the trash.”
With that, AN’s massive physical strength became evident as he chucked the camera into a wall. He then calmly got into his Humvee and drove off, leaving a stunned Miguel and cameraman.
“Another camera? Maybe Luis should see if we can get some more at a bulk discount. I have a feeling we might be loosing more.”
Outside the arena was quiet. American Nightmare had waited a while to leave, wanting to avoid the crowds, as Willard had warned him that the owner loved to give fines. Nightmare had no qualms of stuffing an annoying fan into the nearest ventilation duct, so it was a valid idea to avoid them for now. It gave him time to think… to stew.
His debut was disappointing, at least for himself. No one had to be carried out in a stretcher. He never had a chance to lock in the Dreamkiller, nor deliver a vicious Dream’s End. Next week would have to be different. An example would have to be made. As he strode through the parking lot to get into his Humvee, his thoughts were interrupted.
“Hey hey,” a voice called out from behind him. “I knew if I just waited I’d beat Glenda on talking to you.”
Nightmare turned slowly and deliberate, his head turning and cocking a bit as his eyes locked with man that had been behind him. Miguel Malone stood there with microphone in hand and a cameraman to his left. Miguel was too lost in his own glee to notice the intimidating sneer on the newcomer’s face, but the cameraman took a cautious step backwards.
“Miguel Malone here with PCW’s newest acquisition, the man known as the American Nightmare. His debut against Blade Lionheart ended in a win for the giant, albeit by disqualification. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Right big guy?”
American Nightmare said nothing as he leaned in slightly. Miguel looked at him curiously in return, unsure of what to make of the big man. His enthusiasm was beginning to mix with a bit of uneasiness.
“So umm… you’ve been wrestling professionally for years, earning a reputation for brutality that some say goes beyond human limits. Any comments you’d like to make on that?”
AN leaned in more as he towered over the interviewer, until his head hovered above Miguel’s. He then sniffed his hair, causing Miguel to step backwards uncomfortably. AN then smiled coldly as he patted the man on the head as if he was but a small child. “I love the fragrance of fear. It has an aroma that is intoxicating. In the animal world, predators recognize this smell. That is the reason the wolf chases the deer, hounding it to exhaustion before moving in for the kill. The pheromones released, the endorphins… they are exhilarating, are they not?”
“Um, sure,” Miguel nodded in agreement.
AN extended his arm in front of him, bringing his hand in front of his face, his fingers outstretched. “The wolf has his prey worn down. The deer is barely able to move as it tries to find strength in its feeble legs. The wolf should be tired as well, but it has controlled the situation from the beginning. He has not had to expend the same effort, for he has always been in control. From the moment that deer and wolf had locked eyes, the prey knew that it was doomed. It was just a matter of time.”
“Oh yeah I get you man,” Miguel commented in return. “Next week at Trauma you are to face Seth Sinn. Your thoughts on the Enigma?”
AN cocked his head in thought for a second. “An Enigma? An enigma is only a mystery for as long as someone such as I am not around. I will rip him to pieces and unravel his every secret with expert dissection of the most cold-blooded surgeon. My hands shall be my scalpel, the ring my theater of operation. Anthony Douglas let you off easily last week Sinn. Were you to be locked into the Dreamkiller, you’d not only tap, I’d not let go till I had ripped your arms from their frail sockets.”
“So you think you can beat him without your longtime friend Jason Willard at ringside?”
American Nightmare paused and glared at Miguel menacingly. His nostrils began to flare as his moniker of being the Rage Machine became noticeably evident. “Listen and listen closely, for I SHALL NOT REPEAT! I do not need anyone to defeat a whelp like Seth Sinn. This federation is weak and shall become ours soon enough. Nightmare 2 Society will envelop this place in pain and despair and make it our own. But make no mistake little man. I don’t need them to beat any of these pathetic fools the Captain may throw at me.” With that he grabbed the camera from the cameraman, easily taking it away. His face came in close to it and he glared directly into the lens. “SETH SINN! Look into my eyes and see the eyes of the wolf. The eyes of a predator. I will hunt you down. I will break you emotionally, mentally. When we are in the ring, you will be thankful when I break you physically, for it will feel like I am merciful. But it shall not be mercy. It will just be me putting out the trash.”
With that, AN’s massive physical strength became evident as he chucked the camera into a wall. He then calmly got into his Humvee and drove off, leaving a stunned Miguel and cameraman.
“Another camera? Maybe Luis should see if we can get some more at a bulk discount. I have a feeling we might be loosing more.”