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Post by Eric Donavan on Nov 23, 2020 19:10:09 GMT -6
“History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.” - John Dalberg-Acton -
Defiance Most Beautiful An image comes up on the screen… one of Lyra LeVeux-Donavan standing in the middle of a HYBRID Wrestling ring, staring down a woman in a hood and robe standing upon the stage beneath the HYBRID-Tron, a massive figure at her side, six-and-a-half-feet tall if he’s an inch. Lyra has just finished speaking, the microphone being lowered to her side as the feed cuts on. And even with only eyes showing beneath hood and veil, the woman on stage is clearly incensed. Whatever said comment was, the woman’s body language gives away shock and fury, but a heavy hand on her shoulder keeps her from answering the taunt. Instead, the woman raises her hand and snaps her fingers.
”You’re a dead bitch, Lyra.”
”Promises, promises…”
The golden-masked man purported to be Lust, of the Sins of the Dragon, suddenly slides into the ring, but Lyra is ready for him! She ducks his outstretched arm as he charges and takes a baton-like object from her back pocket. With a flick of her wrist, the telescoping object extends and she whacks him in the back of his left thigh. He drops to a knee and she swings again, baseball-style, cracking him across the back of the head!
”Lyra saw him coming!”
”Good grief, what a hit! But here comes more!”
Sure enough, the other three sins, including the black-masked Wrath, enter the ring. The gold-masked Lust staggers to his feet and falls against the buckles, but while Lyra’s attention is on the other three, he snatches up her weapon and throws it to the floor! Going from confidence to serious concern in moments, Lyra finds herself surrounded by all four sins. The woman on the ramp comes down at her own pace, approaching the ring.
”Damn it, this isn’t going to end well! Maybe she SHOULD have listened to her husband!”
”Too late for takebacks now! Not that I’m rooting for, this, but…”
The hooded woman and her partner stop at the apron of the ring.
”I’m going to enjoy this WAY too much.”
She looks back and forth at her masked cronies.
”...crush her.”
The lights go out as the four masked men converge, and when they come back on all four are looking around for the reason why. They still have Lyra surrounded, but the hooded woman and her dark giant are staring down the ramp, expecting reinforcements, their backs to the goings-on in the ring. The only true change, though, is that there’s someone else in the ring carrying a flanged mace in his hand. The red-masked figure turns around and Eric Donavan buries the mace into his midsection, dropping him to his knees! The blue-masked figure charges in now but Eric sidesteps him and uses the mace to take his legs out from under him!
”Last-second save by the Irish Dragon! But I don’t imagine he’s happy having to do it!”
”No, wait… look at the two of them in there!”
Lyra gives Eric a look as Lust and Wrath stare on, the hooded woman and her dark giant turning when they hear the chaos in the ring. The Soulstealer and the Irish Dragon grin at one another, as if this was the plan all along! Lust and Wrath charge, the former after Lyra and the latter after Eric. Lyra lashes out with the retrieved baton and whacks Lust right in the mask, leaving his ears ringing and his head pounding. He staggers back and in his pause takes a shot to the midsection for his trouble. Eric takes his weapon to the black-masked Wrath as Gluttony and Pride roll out of the ring, landing a shot to the stomach, then another to the back with that dangerous-looking weapon. He staggers back to his feet and the couple share another look before measuring the two men, much to the anger of the hooded woman. Lyra’s the first to take off, slamming a vicious Busaiku knee right into Lust’s gold mask!
”Braindead!”
Eric, of course, pops a hip and cracks Wrath right in the chin, almost taking his black mask off his head in the process!
”And a Dragon Fang!”
Pride and Gluttony, at the shrieking order of the mystery woman, drag Wrath and Lust from the ring before any more damage can be done. The big man gets between the four and the hooded woman while she glares into the ring. Eric and Lyra gesture for the lot of them to come in and take a shot, but the woman is having none of it. She points threateningly at the ring, lifting her microphone again.
”Savor the moment, because this is NOT over! Before this year ends, I’ll end BOTH of you!”
She throws down the mic and storms to the back with her crew as the Donavans remain in the ring, armed and ready. Lyra leans into Eric, who puts an arm around her, enjoying the moment.
The scene of a fortnight ago then fades to black.
The Mark of Domination and Destruction The Symbol of Excellence and Ability The Seal of the Dragon Clan
The Return of the Dragon Clan Once upon a time, something grander might have been put before the masses. But that was nearly a lifetime ago. It was a different world, a different ECWF. These days, everyone fears the pandemic and loathes the government. Caution is the name of the game and the state of the planet is bringing out the worst in all of its inhabitants. But some things in life, no matter how much the rest of the world crumbles around them, never change. Some institutions are impervious to the ravages of time. Some presences refuse to be dulled by the swirling maelstrom of chaos that we trudge through every day just trying to make a living.
We speak, in this case, of the Dragon Clan.
The scene is a familiar one to any who have followed the career of the Irish Dragon, Eric Donavan. The downstairs office of his Asheville, North Carolina home is his… well, not his sanctuary. That’s a whole other place, a mild or two up the road along the dirt and gravel swirling about the rim of Spivey Mountain. This is more like a man cave. An L-shaped desk rests in a corner of the room, bordered by cabinets, laden with computer, printer, paperwork and everything else one might expect; it is not special. To look around the rest of the room, however, is to know the man once termed the God of War much better where his wrestling is concerned. The view is paused, however, by the voice of Eric himself…
”You already know my name.”
Straight to the point. The camera pans around to show the back of Eric Donavan as he stands before the far wall of the room. Corners bear steel-framed glass display cases, the walls laden with framed pieces ranging from magazine covers to posters to pictures and so much more. The cases are filled with signed artwork and more photos, with championship titles from multiple companies… there’s even a mounted flat-screen television linked to a modified PS4, an idle demo of the HYBRID Evolutionary War video game playing out on that.
We stare here directly at the career of Eric Donavan from start to… well, an eventual finish. Clearly, the Irish Dragon is not done yet, though he IS in the midst of his Long Walk, the title given to a series of matches and moments he seeks to create before his time is done. But that’s another story.
”And if you don’t, gentlemen, then you do yourself and the ECWF a serious disservice. Anyone who calls themselves a champion in a company, any company, should know where that company came from. They should know what shaped its past so that they, as champions, can properly mold its future. Maybe it’s age, or being in the twilight of my career, but when you reach a point in your career that I have, clarity is something that comes easily… and without filter. Sometimes you’ll see shit you wished you hadn’t and learn things that change you in that self-same moment.
What you just laid eyes on a minute ago? That was just a little something I decided to share with the class in case, after recent events, there were any doubts as to whether or not my dear Fire-Breathing Wolf was ready to step back into the ring. As you can see, she’s quite ready.”
Eric smiles faintly over his shoulder before turning back, dressed in a black t-shirt that clings to the powerful musculature that he boasts. No three-piece suit today; this pre-recorded message to The Age of the Fall leading into their World Tag Team Title match at Revolution is designed for simplicity. Off-camera, the lady in question, Lyra, giggles sweetly and sinisterly in the same breath. She certainly sounds ready, doesn’t she?
”If you’re anything like most of the opponents I’ve met here, though, you’re probably wondering what the hell this old man and his wife are doing getting a shot at your gold. You’ve prepped up the usual litany of insults, peppered with catchphrases, probably finding someone else to talk for you because ‘we are not worth the time or effort’. Let’s be real, shall we? The comment has been made, more than once, over social media that ECWF relies too much on past stars to boost ratings and get attention on their shows. That attendance can be sporadic at times. That the company is unstable even at its best. The people who claim this, though, are in the same breath angling for title shots and prime, marquee-level matches because they ‘deserve’ it. I could name names, but they don’t deserve the sort of boost that would give them, being acknowledged by someone like me.
Let me tell you, Reynolds. Let me tell you, Hazard. Listen and understand exactly who we are and why we’ll be seeing you in the ring Friday night.”
Finally turning to face the camera, Eric stares into it with his nearly-black eyes glittering darkly. A curtain of dark hair hangs around his shoulders, a smirk flickering to life beneath a well-trimmed mustache and goatee. Yes, the infamous Donavan Smirk. The mere act of folding his arms shows off considerable muscle in both wings as well as that broad chest. Age and all else are no excuse for not staying in shape, clearly.
”Eric Donavan, two-time ECWF World Heavyweight Champion, one-time Six-Man Tag Team Champion as part of Team Dragon Suplex. ECWF Hall of Famer. Not my only world championships and not my only Hall of Fame ring, either, but we don’t have all day, now do we? Besides… you can see most of what I’m referring to on the wall here.”
He gestures to the myriad pieces enshrined before him, no doubt with a large dollop of pride.
”Men such as myself are the main reason that you even have a place in this company and a title to call your own. Because for two years, in 2017 and 2018, I put this place on my shoulders and made sure the planet knew all about what it had to offer. And for almost every day of those two years, gold was around my waist or over my shoulder. Sometimes both. The effects of what I, and my family and friends, did for the ECWF is still felt to this day. But I’m not looking for a ‘thank you’. I’m just making it clear exactly who you’re stepping in the ring with Friday night. Full disclosure, boys. You’re welcome.
For twelve years I have dominated the wrestling business. Every company I signed with saw me take their top title, inevitably and invariably rising to the top of the mountain and leaving battered opponents in my wake. Inside the ring, precious few could step to me and take that ‘W’. Outside the ring? I started my own company, HYBRID, and have run it for upwards of five years along with the HYBRID Combat School training center., which has turned out numerous stars since its inception, such as Damon Cross, Trenton Page and many more. The front office? Backstage? The locker room? The corner office in a downtown high rise? I’ve done time everywhere that a man can in this business. Hell, if you want it put simply?”
His voice raises in that moment, a further taste of the intensity behind his dark eyes given as he glares into the camera. Those five words still hang heavy in the air… mostly because there’s not a damn thing that can be said to refute it.
”And that says nothing of my partner, my lovely wife, Lyra. But she can expound upon her own virtues on her own time, in her own way. She does not need me speaking for her.”
A quiet giggle comes from behind the camera, indicating that the lady in question fully agrees with that statement.
”Self-aggrandizing aside? You two are the reason that the Dragon Clan is back. Despite my differences with Rock N’ Roll God, and there are many of them otherwise I would never have left this company in the first place, the man knows how to get someone’s attention. He knew that my Long Walk was nearing its end and he chose that moment to pounce.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle.
”You see, gentlemen, most people in wrestling never leave at the right time. Some never leave at all. After a point, you have to stand back and look at what you’ve accomplished and learn to be satisfied. Multiple world championships, secondary titles, two hall of fame rings, a successful wrestling school and wrestling company and more on top of all else? In only twelve years? That’s a resume worth of respect no matter who you are. I stood back, looked upon what I had wrought in the wrestling business and said to myself… nothing I can do now will compare. What other mountains are there to climb? What other challenges are left to me? And I could not find an answer.
And so I announced my retirement along with a list of opponents I meant to face in the ring before I called it quits. A bucket list, of sorts. It has been a joy working my way down that list, but the window is closing quickly. Soon, my time will be up and I will tell wrestling good-bye, kicking back to enjoy what I have earned.
And then, of course, RNRG makes that call.”
Laughing aloud, Eric puts his hand to his ear, thumb and pinky extended in a facsimile of a phone.
”We want you to come back for a couple matches. The only title you didn’t pick up here was the World Tag Team Championships. Figured you and Lyra would want a crack at them before you call it quits.”
He hangs up the imaginary phone and runs a hand through his dark hair.
”He peeled the right banana. In saying I had nothing left to accomplish, no goals left to reach, I had apparently challenged that scraggly bastard and he answered the call. And so… here stands the Dragon Clan, former CWC World Tag Team Champions, looking to add yet another belt to our resume. Win or lose, it would be stupid to ignore such an opportunity being presented to us. And I’m not given for making stupid choices.
Now, be honest, boys: that gets under your skin, doesn’t it? Believe me, I understand. People being handed title shots that in the eyes of many they did not earn? Snatching main event opportunities away from people who are there week in and week out, putting in the work to achieve the same? It rubs people the wrong way. I get it. Probably the same for you two. The thing is, you have an out here. You have a way of righting this if you truly find it to be wrong:”
All levity leaves Eric as the focus tightens up a little on his scowling face.
”Beat us.”
More laughter from the other side of the camera; clearly, Lyra does not think much of the Age of the Fall’s chances Friday night.
”If you’re as good as you no doubt claim, if you take umbrage with the Dragon Clan’s placement against you, then prove it. Take us down. Really put a fucking stamp on your title reign. Considering that I’ve only lost two or three matches here and Lyra was undefeated before she left? It’d be a pretty big feather in your hat.
Thing is… I don’t think you can. I don’t believe either of you have what it takes to stop us. Think that’s arrogant? Then take another look at this wall of gold. Then go and dig up some videos on YouTube of the Dragon Clan in the ECWF. Twenty bucks and twenty minutes says you’ll be shaking, sweating and clutching those titles like they were your first-born, muttering over and over how sorry you are that they’ll be going away.”
And there’s that damned Smirk again.
”Winning is what we do. Domination is our cause. And everything and everyone that gets in our way burns. It has been that way since the start. Time and age aren’t changing that. You two, Hazzard and Reynolds, stand between the Dragon Clan and history. It’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with an umbrella or fighting a tank with a toothpick. It can only end painfully and stupidly. Will the two of you give us a fight? Of that I have no doubt. It simply won’t be enough.
Blame RNRG if you need someone to lay what you no doubt call a travesty at the feet of. Lambaste him for calling in more past stars to get ECWF on the lips of the wrestling world again. But when you lose? Blame yourselves for not stepping up and defending what you claim as your turf. If we weren’t as good as I claim we are, it would be one thing. But, again, this company exists because of the Dragon Clan. You exist here because of our blood, sweat and sacrifice. So consider this us returning to collect our dues and remind the wrestling world of what this company is all about at its best.”
He turns one more time to gaze upon his wall of glory, his shoulders shaking a bit as he chuckles.
”Or not. Words won’t matter soon enough. When that bell rings, boys, you’re going to get a taste of what real strength, true ability and utter domination is all about. And those precious World Tag Team Titles, well…”
Standing aside a bit, Eric gestures towards an empty spot in one of the display cases, made just for the new belts he intends to put there.
”...we’ll take good care of them for you. Come, Age of the Fall. Face the fire. See if you can hang with the King of Dragons and his lady, his Fire-Breathing Wolf, ever at his side. Either you come out loud and strong, teaching the veterans a lesson, or like so many before you, you become dust in the wind, a memory trampled down by the Dragon Clan.
Everything burns.”
Fade to black, over the smirk of Eric and the laughter of Lyra…
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Post by Eric Donavan on Nov 23, 2020 20:04:18 GMT -6
A day like any other day, They asked us to come out and play… But in their haste, Their champions we shall waste, For Heaven awaits those who prey!
In a moment that seems to have taken place several moments after the scene displayed in Eric Donavan’s own address to the ECWF fans and locker room, one from a fortnight ago at HYBRID Ascension #74, the Irish Dragon and the Fire-Breathing Wolf burst through the curtain. Eric’s flanged mace is resting on his shoulder and his other arm is around Lyra. Her left arm snaked around his waist, she twirls her baton with a twisted grin on her face.
”Mmm! It felt so GOOD to punish those fuckers! I’m all tingly and fiery and just… rawr!”
And she chooses to express such feelings by tossing her weapon aside and turning to her husband after stopping him in his tracks. She leaps onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, kissing him furiously. Eric, not one to let a moment slide, tosses his own melee ordinance onto a nearby table before wrapping his powerful wings around his bride. The kiss is returned in kind and clearly neither Donavan gives a damn who’s looking. More than a few agents stare for a moment before quickly turning away, while pedestrians react with both grins and slack jaws.
Lyra finally comes up for air and one might swear that a little smoke issues from between her lips as she exhales.
”I want some more!”
The Alpha Huntress channels her inner Claudia (if you don’t get the reference, you suck) as she stares into Eric’s eyes. Smirking, the Irish Dragon retorts saucily.
”More ass-kicking fun or more of my fiery lips?”
”Yes!”
And another kiss starts. Thankfully, the camera fades on this; after all, this is a wrestling show, not a peep show. When the view returns, it is later that same evening. Out in the VIP parking area, Eric is loading his and Lyra’s bags into the trunk of the Mustang. Meanwhile, Lyra herself is sitting on the hood on the driver’s side of the car, her denim-clad legs dangling, the slight chill in the air hardly touching her despite her artfully hand-cut t-shirt. Eric slams shut the boot and walks over to where she sits. A smile still tugs at her black lips but there’s something different in her eyes.
”Being honest, mi amor? That was… pretty nerve-wracking.”
Setting his hands upon her thighs at first, Eric slides his touch up to hips, his black eyes meeting her green. He searches them for a few moments as her smile fades a bit. Then he smiles gently.
”If you hadn’t said so, I would not have known.”
”I suppose that’s a compliment.”
”It’s the truth. I’m proud of you. It says to me that I was right in accepting this match for us in the ECWF.”
Lyra’s head tilts to the side a bit.
”Yes, but have you considered what happens if we win?”
That question catches Eric off guard a little. Her hands come to rest upon his, and now it is Lyra’s turn to look into HIS eyes. After a moment, he looks down at her lap, then back up again. A shrug raises and lowers his broad shoulders and he offers up a little half-smile.
”Then the Long Walk gets a little longer, doesn’t it?”
”Are you sure you’re alright with that?”
A frown appears on her face but that goes away when Eric puts his forehead to hers, his lips brushing against her own.
”If you are, absolutely, I’m not retiring because I have to. I’m doing it because I feel as though I’ve accomplished all I can in this business. But if we have gold to defend… you know I’m not wont to just give something like that up.”
Her smile broadens a bit and she puts her arms around Eric’s neck again.
”Remember the first night we met?”
”Vividly.”
Now her lower lips finds its way between her teeth, her eyes sparkling with desire.
”Do it again.”
”Anything for you, mo gra.”
With a squee of delight, Lyra hops off the car and goes to get into the passenger seat. Eric watches her with a grin, then gets into the driver’s seat himself. That ‘68 Mustang GT California Special never looked so badass. Eric starts the beast up, the engine roaring like a hellbound demon. They tear out of the lot like their hair’s on fire... and the moment fades out.
”Come into our darkness… and feel the flame! I promise to bite. HARD!”
The sound is unclear at first, as is the source, but the question of the first is quickly answered as light finds its way into the moment. The darkness of night, coming early every day as we approach the winter solstice, is near-complete in this area… one of the benefits of living rurally. Only the odd streetlight in the distance or porch light somewhere down the gravel path lends credence to the existence of humanity anywhere close by. But the sound… rhythmic and sweet, laced with a touch of malice… that is the first of them in description. In actuality, it is a soft humming. The source, the woman carrying the tune, lights a candle to give life to the darkness.
Lyra LeVeux-Donavan walks to one of the railings of the deck, casting her gaze skyward to view the myriad stars above. And there are so many to be seen where the city’s unnatural glow cannot mute them. Lyra’s black hair is wrapped into a single dark braid that hangs over her left shoulder as she walks, her perpetual smile made ghostly from the flickering candlelight. Dressed in a simple black dress, barefoot and bare-armed, not feeling the night’s chill, the former ECWF World Women’s Champion and Six-Person Tag Team Champion takes in the view with her sweetly-sinister song continuing a few moments longer. Then…
”The Age of the Fall, is it? How apropo! Falling is exactly what you boys are going to do come Friday night! It would be enough just to grind you down and take your pretty belts, as I have been craving the touch of gold quite a bit lately, but you see… well…”
As swiftly as the song ended to signal the beginning of the address, so did her smile become a grimace.
”Mi amor and I have some shit to work out.”
Shit to work out?
”You see, I am not far removed from a very bad spell brought on by a cowardly bitch thinking she has an axe to grind with me and my family.”
Setting the candle on the railing, a nightly breeze making the flame flicker though it does not gutter out, Lyra brings her bare foot up to rest on the built-in bench. Drawing up the hem of her dress, she exposes her naked leg below the knee, showing a nasty-looking bite wound on the side of it. Her face is a mask of pain and fury in the candlelight as she stares at the slowly-healing damage.
”Only a coward sends another to do their work. A poison underling, slithering on its belly, sinking its fangs into me and almost ending my life.”
Letting go of the dress makes it fall back into place. Lyra retrieves the camera. It is very odd to see her serious and, for lack of a better term, tense.
”Eric told you that this was mostly about a goal yet to be accomplished, another accolade he wants to put on his wall. And it IS about that. But not entirely. Not for me. Now… I am not a monster. Not like those who put that wound upon me. Not like those who have tried time and again to take what my Dragon and I have rightfully earned. All or Nothing is not going to be a night where I paint upon you, Reynolds and Hazzard, the faces of our enemies so that I might exorcise some darkness from my soul by beating you as if you were in fact them-”
A smile tugs at her black-painted lips, a pink tongue sneaking out to wet them a little.
”Not that that doesn’t sound deliciously wicked and fun, mind you.”
Ah, yes… a taste of the normal Lyra, the lady who makes sport of her adversaries and all that. She’s a much more joyful sort. Not the angered, paler-than-usual lady of vengeance that we are seeing in the here and now.
”-but as the kids might say, Eric and I have some shit to work out. He wants another goal reached, another something to put on his litany of accomplishments. And so do I. But I also want to remind the world, especially a certain pair who I KNOW are watching, that when you leap on the Fire-Breathing Wolf, you had better END her. Because if you don’t, she’ll come back twice as hot, twice as furious, and she will NOT stop until one of you is done!”
The tense but mostly-contained outburst is over as fast as it begins, but it is enough to bring a large, furry shape bounding over the railing of the deck and trotting up to Lyra. The husky nuzzles up to her unused hand, licking her palm and vying for her attention. Turning, Lyra offers a gentle, motherly smile to the animal, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.
”Mother is okay, baby boy. Yes… that’s a good Oni…”
Because of course it’s named Oni. Japanese for ‘demon’ to the uninitiated. The dog certainly looks like it would be a fuzzy demon if unleashed on someone. He sits on his haunches, soaking up more of Lyra’s attention while she gets back to the point of this recording.
”World Women’s Champion, boys. For a year. Untouched, undefeated. The only reason the title left my grip was a contract dispute, something I am not proud of but have come to accept… if only because there’s not a woman walking the halls of the ECWF that I could not make twist and scream in order to get it back if I so desired. But much like my Dragon, I have counted my blessings and made my peace with wrestling. When we take your gold and have our fun with it, however long that fun is destined to lastI, like him, will call it a finish. Focus on family, on my restaurant… on life beyond the ring.
It is a pleasant thought. But it is also for another time. That is, unless the two of you luck out and manage to put the Dragon Clan down. But being real, boys? I wouldn’t put money on that if I were you. After all, Eric’s accomplishments speak for themselves. And he is very much still in his prime despite his desire to leave the business. How many do you know with the strength, the fortitude, to leave the business while they could walk into any company tomorrow and own that place within a couple months? And with his name and reputation, make no mistake that Eric could do just that. Me? More than capable of doing the same, although perhaps not to his level… but still more than enough to handle the likes of you.”
Putting the candle on the bench beside her, Lyra turns and takes a seat, crossing one pale leg over the other. Oni takes advantage and scoots closer, setting his head in her lap. With all the care one would give to a human child, Lyra sets to doting on her precious pup.
”I’ve made a career out of making bitches scream. Even before I met my husband, that was my stock-in-trade. He merely encouraged me to take it a step further, to truly find joy in what I did inside that ring. And no matter where I have plied my trade, there has been blood… screaming… gold… as befitting a lady who calls herself the Mother of Destruction. Want to go hardcore? I’ll shave the flesh off of you and lick the wound. You’d rather straight up fight? I’ll drive knees into your head and body until you forget your childhood. No matter what is sought in that ring, I can make it happen. And I have. Follow my Dragon’s advice and seek some of my work here in the ECWF if you doubt me. Undefeated still means something in this business. It is an accomplishment that I fully intend to still have after Friday night, too.
The difference between him and I, however, is that I will not put a filter upon my pride or restrain my true thoughts and feelings. I’ll be thrice-damned before I give two shits about what anyone thinks of us getting this title shot or of how Rock N’ Roll God runs things. The chance was offered. We grabbed it with both hands. People don’t like that? I couldn’t give less of a damn. The Extreme Championship Wrestling Federation, as it once was, as it shall ever be so long as we are here, is about the Dragon Clan and our dominance of this company. That is how deep our roots here run and how strong our cred is; we’re here, the floor is ours as well as everything that stands upon it. When we aren’t, the world wonders when we’ll be back. Can you say the same about yourselves in ANY company? I highly doubt it.”
Clearly the presence of Oni isn’t quite soothing enough. Still, there is truth to a lot of what Lyra says. That’s probably why she doesn’t bother to sugarcoat it; what good would it do? The truth still hurts, sweetened or not.
”Like so many before you, Age of the Fall, you will bow when all is said and done. And your titles will no longer be yours; they will belong to the Dragon Clan, another page in our histories. Resist if you must, but the harder you fight, the more pressure we will put upon you. One side will break before the other, and history says the smart bet is on the Dragon Clan. As it has always been.”
Getting to her feet, Lyra tosses her braid over her shoulder with a single motion of her head.
”They told me once that my dark ways would lead me to an early end. I was informed in no uncertain terms that there would be hell to pay for my words and actions. Yet here I stand, here I walk… here I fight. Still waiting for their useless prophecies to come to pass. They said it at home, they said it at school, they said it the first time I stepped into a wrestling ring. Yet here.. I… STAND!”
She points a threatening finger at the camera, at the Age of the Fall, the nail tipped with a glossy black much like her lips.
”And Friday night, where I stand shall be at the side of my Dragon and ABOVE you two as one-half of the new ECWF World Tag Team Champions! Get ready to play, boys, but know that in our ring, the game is played by our rules! Step between those ropes and your souls are forfeit!”
Message sent, she winks saucily at the camera before moving past, Oni following at her heels as the scene fades out.
Another dance or three, Makes no difference to me... On your souls I'll be feast, Hungry like the beast, Come feel my fire and see!
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