Post by Real Untamed Demon on Nov 11, 2023 15:40:10 GMT -5
[Prologue]
In the aftermath of the chilling Buried Alive Match, where the untamed demon known as Damage stood victorious over Johnny Stylez, the dark recesses of his psyche had descended into an even deeper abyss. The echoes of the dirt hitting the casket reverberated through his mind like a sinister lullaby, each thud a reminder of his relentless brutality. Damage had reveled in the darkness, in the horror of it all, and it had left an indelible mark on his psychological landscape.As he stood at the edge of that freshly dug grave, the twisted smile on Damage's face was a testament to his inner torment. He was a creature of the shadows, a predator that thrived on the fear of his victims, and the alive body of Johnny Stylez, now buried beneath the earth, was just another trophy in his collection of horrors. The eerie calm in his eyes was a reflection of a mind unhinged, a soul steeped in malevolence.
With the victory over Johnny Stylez, Damage felt the darkness within him grow stronger, like a ravenous beast demanding to be fed. It whispered to him, promising more pain, more suffering to come. The Buried Alive Match had been a theatrical masterpiece of horror, and it had solidified Damage's reputation as the untamed demon, a living nightmare in the world of professional wrestling.
Now, as he looked ahead to the Number One Contenders Triple Threat Match against John "The Beast" Cable and Clyde Newton, Damage's psychological mindset was a precarious blend of anticipation and sadistic excitement. He saw the upcoming match not merely as a contest for a shot at championship gold, but as an opportunity to delve even deeper into the darkness that consumed him.
In the days leading up to the match, Damage immersed himself in the shadows, honing his skills in the macabre arts of pain and torment. He envisioned himself standing victorious once more, watching his opponents crumble beneath the weight of their own fears, and savoring their suffering as a gourmet meal. His mind had become a chamber of horrors, where every thought, every strategy, was drenched in malevolent intent.
As the date of the Number One Contenders Triple Threat Match drew near, Damage's psychological landscape became a nightmarish labyrinth, a place where sadistic pleasure met with the relentless pursuit of victory. For him, the match was not just about winning; it was about inflicting psychological and physical torment, about pushing the limits of what the human mind and body could endure.
Damage the Untamed Demon, a creature of darkness and cruelty, was ready to step into the ring once more, to unleash his demons upon his opponents, and to see just how far he could plunge them into the depths of despair. The upcoming match would be a culmination of his twisted desires, a stage for his malevolent artistry, and a testament to the psychological torment that lurked within the untamed demon's mind.
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In the dimly lit arena, shadows clung to the corners, dancing with malevolent glee with an uneasy silence. The air, thick with anticipation, carried an ominous weight that seemed to settle on the shoulders of every spectator. The spotlight flickered, casting an eerie glow upon the figure standing in the center of the ring, a silhouette cloaked in darkness – Damage, the untamed demon.
emerged. His eyes, twin orbs of unrelenting darkness, bore into the souls of those who dared to meet his gaze. The silence was shattered by the haunting resonance of his voice, a low and guttural growl that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the underworld. "Welcome, my unwitting audience, to the theater of nightmares. I invite you to witness a spectacle unlike any other, a dance with the devil himself, as I, Damage, the untamed demon, prepare to unleash a tempest upon the so-called 'Beast' – Mr. John Cable and Mr. Clyde Newton. The stakes are high, the price of victory steep, for the coveted spot of the Number One Contender awaits the one who emerges from this encounter unscathed."
The area seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if the very walls were privy to the malevolence about to unfold. A twisted grin curled upon Damage's lips as he began his ominous Speech.
"Let me start with Mr. John Cable, we meet again, I remember you scored a win against me last time when we both faced, but I am not the same Damage you faced. No,… especially after burying a live man six feets under…."
Damage raises his head and looks up at the top, he slowly closes his eyes with a smile and breaths in the air around the area for a long time pausing his speech and with stretching his both arms. He starts thinking the final moments of Johny Stylez while he buried him alive. After some time, Damage opens his eyes and brings head and both arms down. He looks towards the camera and with same smile and to speak,
"Mr. John Cable, they call you “the Beast,” right???… but do you truly understand the meaning of untamed? The darkness that courses through my veins is a tempest of chaos, a maelstrom of malevolence that defies containment. I am not a mere beast; I am the embodiment of untamed fury, the primal force that lurks in the recesses of every soul. I respect the beast inside you, that carries the weight of ferocity and primal power. But understand this, Mr. Cable, for in the presence of a demon, your beastly nature pales in comparison to the untamed darkness that resides within me. I am the whisper in the shadows, the nightmare that lurks in the recesses of your mind when you close your eyes at night. I am the harbinger of nightmares. Your so-called 'Beast' is but a pale imitation, a creature of the mundane, shackled by the limitations of mortal flesh. But I, I am beyond such constraints. I am the untamed demon, a force that defies comprehension, a nightmare given form."
Damage's eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity as he continued, the shadows seeming to coil around him like serpents eager to consume their prey. The atmosphere grew colder, the very temperature in the arena dropping as if the air itself feared to disturb the malevolent soliloquy.
"In the realm of pain and suffering, I am the architect of pain and agony. The scars etched upon my soul are the symphony of anguish, each wail and tortured cry a note in the demonic opus that is my existence. Soon, Mr. John Cable, you find yourself ensnared in the strands of fate, entwined with the very essence of your own undoing. You may be a beast, but I am the devourer of souls. I am the darkness that lurks in the forgotten corners of existence, and soon, you shall become acquainted with the depths of despair that only I can unleash."
As Damage spoke, the arena lights flickered erratically, casting distorted shadows upon the canvas. The air thickened with a sense of foreboding, a prelude to the malevolent storm that loomed on the horizon.
"You see, Mr. Cable, you may revel in the brute strength coursing through your veins, but in the depths of my being lies a power that defies comprehension. As we step into the abyss, Mr. John Cable, remember this – the untamed demon knows no mercy. I am the embodiment of every fear you've ever dared to dream, the nightmare that haunts the darkest recesses of your subconscious. Soon, the ring shall become a battleground of souls, and only one shall emerge from the shadows victorious."
Damage continued to unravel the tapestry of his dark narrative. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp, as if the boundaries between the mortal realm and the abyss were thinning, and Damage was the conduit through which the darkness flowed.
"The Number One Contender spot is but a mere trinket, a bauble in the grand tapestry of despair that I weave. Mr. John Cable, you may be a formidable opponent, but soon, you shall learn that in the presence of the untamed demon, all pretensions of strength crumble like dust in the wind. Soon, we stand at the crossroads of destiny, Mr. Cable. You and I, entangled in a macabre ballet that will determine the fate of the Number One Contenders Triple Threat Match. But make no mistake – this is not a battle of mere physical prowess. This is a descent into the abyss, a plunge into the depths of the soul where the true nature of a man is laid bare."
As Damage spoke, the arena lights dimmed further, casting him into near-total obscurity. Only the faint glint of his eyes and the subtle contours of his malevolent grin remained visible. The audience, ensnared in the dark allure of his words, could feel the palpable tension in the air, a taut string awaiting release.
"Mr. Cable, you may have faced formidable opponents before, but none like me. None who could reach into the recesses of your psyche and extract the very essence of your fears. Soon, as we collide in the crucible of combat, you will bear witness to the untamed demon – a force that defies reason, a presence that transcends the boundaries of mortal comprehension."
The silence hung in the air like a shroud. The very fabric of reality seemed to ripple as the untamed demon's presence permeated the arena, an intangible force that clawed at the fringes of sanity.
"Behold, Mr. John Cable, as I unleash the shadows that dwell within. The darkness that eclipses even the most ferocious of beasts. Very soon, the canvas of this ring shall bear witness to a spectacle that transcends the boundaries of mortal understanding. As we dance upon the precipice of oblivion, remember this – in the realm of demons, there is no room for mercy, no sanctuary for the weak."
With a theatrical flourish, Damage extended his arms, the shadows seemingly coalescing around him like a cloak of malevolence. The arena lights, now reduced to mere flickers, cast an eerie glow upon his visage, accentuating the demonic features that seemed to materialize in the depths of the darkness.
"And so, the stage is set, Mr. Cable. The theater of nightmares awaits its protagonists. Will you succumb to the untamed darkness, or will you emerge as the victor, forever haunted by the echoes of the demon's whispers? The choice is yours, but remember this – in the end, the untamed demon always collects his due. Now, to my next opponent, Mr. Clyde Newton…"
With those chilling words, the air is thick with anticipation as he paces the ring, his gaze fixed on the unseen horrors that dance within the recesses of his twisted mind. Damage continues to speak with some evil smirk on his face.
"Mr. Newton, you stand as the sacrificial lamb, chosen to face the wrath of the untamed. Do you feel it, Clyde? The palpable dread that clings to the air like a suffocating fog. It is the essence of your impending demise, the sweet taste of terror that lingers on the lips of those who cross my path."
The camera captures the cold, unyielding expression on Damage's face as he continues his malevolent speech, his eyes ablaze with an unholy fervor.
"Truth be told Mr. Clyde, I like the badness inside of you, infact, I respect that but your badness cannot be compared to my evilness. You may parade around with your false bravado, Mr. Clyde Newton, but I see the fear that flickers in the depths of your soul. The fear of the unknown, the fear of what lies beyond the veil of your feeble reality. Soon, I am the nightmare incarnate, the living embodiment of your deepest, darkest terrors."
The arena is engulfed in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting echoes of Damage's voice.
"I am the shadow that lurks in the corners of your consciousness, the whisper that haunts your dreams. Very soon, Mr. Clyde Newton, you step into the abyss with me, and there is no escape. The ring becomes a battleground, a twisted canvas upon which our fates are painted in shades of agony and despair."
Damage raises his clawed hand, the glint of steel reflecting the red spotlight.
"And then, there is the matter of the so-called contender ship, the coveted spot that hangs in the balance. Two others vie for the right to face the champion, but they are mere pawns in the grand tapestry of suffering that I weave. Very soon, Mr. Clyde Newton, you are not my opponent; you are the canvas upon which I shall paint a masterpiece of pain."
The demonic grin on Damage's face widens as he revels in the unsettling silence that blankets the arena. The camera captures the subtle movements of his fingers, each twitch a prelude to the malevolent dance that is about to unfold.
"As the untamed demon, I am the embodiment of chaos, the primal force that seeks to unravel the very fabric of existence. In the realm of pain and torment, I am the undisputed master. Mr. Clyde Newton, you may have faced challenges before, but none like the cataclysmic force that is about to be unleashed upon you."
The red spotlight intensifies, casting a ghastly glow on Damage's face as he raises his arms in a macabre display of power. The viewers, caught in the grip of his hypnotic presence, watches with bated breath as the untamed demon prepares to descend upon his prey.
"Soon, the ring becomes a portal to the infernal realms, a gateway through which the denizens of darkness shall claim their due. Mr.Clyde Newton, you are but a fleeting soul in the grand tapestry of suffering, a sacrificial offering to the insatiable hunger that dwells within me."
The arena is plunged into darkness once again, the red spotlight extinguished like a dying ember. The hushed whispers of the crowd mingle with the echoes of Damage's malevolent laughter, creating a symphony of dread that lingers in the air.
"In the end, Mr. Clyde Newton, it matters not whether you crawl away broken and defeated or lie motionless in the cold embrace of oblivion. What matters is the legacy of torment that I leave in my wake, the indelible mark of the untamed demon. Very soon, the shadows writhe, the abyss beckons, and you, Mr. Clyde Newton, are condemned to dance with the devil himself."
With those words, Damage faded into the shadows, leaving the arena in an uneasy silence. The stage is set, and the untamed demon ready to plunge the arena into a nightmarish abyss from which there would be no escape. The air crackled with an unholy energy, and the shadows whispered of impending doom as the twisted ballet of agony and despair prepared to unfold. The ritual of agony about to unfold, John “The Beast” Cable and Clyde Newton stands on the precipice of a descent into the abyss. The untamed demon has spoken, and the macabre theater of pain is ready to begin.
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