Stormingraven [vs.] Silas Romero [vs.] The Jackyl

Stormingraven [vs.] Silas Romero [vs.] The Jackyl

Prologue:
(Many months ago)

A Native American Reservation, in Cherokee,North Carolina. Storming Raven was visiting family there. He had no idea of the life changing events that were about to transpire. The last thing he remembers is gun shots,women screaming and children crying. He was shot in the right shoulder. He wakes up in a puddle of mud and blood, not knowing where he is at first. Then he looks around the area and sees the various dead bodies lying strewn out with flies buzzing over their faces. He is shocked to see his father, who has been dead these thirteen years.

“It's not your time son. You have a destiny to fulfill. Do not let your family die in vain.”

The image of his father disappears as the sound of sirens cuts through the humid night air like a hot knife through butter. He staggers to his feet, knowing he must run. If he is caught as the only one alive, the police are sure to blame him. He runs through the woods until he comes to an old dilapidated Georgian style manor with ivy growing over the exterior walls. As he enters the house a large raven flies down and lands on his shoulder. In his head, Storming Raven hears the raven speak inside his head.

“For all intents and purposes, you are officially dead. When the police get there and your body is gone, they will think some wild animal dragged you off. You can do anything you want now. Soon you will be going home, but for now we'll use the time to our advantage. You will train in these woods. You will become physically and mentally more superior than you've ever been before. You will find your inner warrior again, and learn some ancient secrets long forgotten by your people along the way. Nothing will ever be able to hurt you.”

For three long months Storming Raven did exactly that. He saw the world clearly for the first time. It was a dark,dirty,corrupted place. It's time somebody started to cleanse it.

Present day

“Come and play with us, Danny. Come and play with us forever, and ever, and ever.” ~ The Shining

"No eastern tribe had struggled harder or more successfully to make white civilization their own. For generations the Cherokee had lived side by side with whites in Georgia. They had devised a written language, published their own newspaper, adopted a constitution, and a Christian faith. But after gold was discovered on their land, even they were told they would have to start over again in the West."
~ The West, a documentary by Ken Burns and Stephen Ives
Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down ~ Johnny Cash “God's gonna cut you down”

The IWF camera crew Is seen trudging through snow toward a hotel in the distance.

Camera man: This place gives me the creeps. Why are we here? Everyone knows this place is haunted. Only three days til Halloween this can't be good.

David Lester: The note said all would be revealed, so just keep walking.

The men keep walking, and open the door to the hotel. It creaks loudly in the deserted hotel lobby. Other wise the hotel appears to be in working condition. It is freezing cold, because it's the off season. Upon entering the hotel, they hear what sounds like an orchestra playing classical music. They follow the sound and open the door to a large white room, where they find Storming Raven sitting alone...at first glance,dressed in black from torso to legs, a skin tight black t-shirt,a long black trench coat, black faded jeans and black boots. His long black hair hangs in his face partially covering his white and black painted face. The camera picks up images of shimmering light orbs, that seem to be dancing. The large picture window behind him shows a breath taking view of the Rocky Mountains covered in snow.



With a rapid jerk of his head, Storming Raven looks into the camera and begins to speak. The camera crew jump back in surprise.

“Aren't you happy to see me? Of course you're not. No one is ever happy to see the forgotten. The ones society calls losers. The ones they think have nothing to offer.”

Outside the window, a storm begins to brew. Storming Raven runs his hands through his hair, with a wicked smile.

“Do you recognize this place? Does it scare you? It should. This is the Stanley hotel. A place with a famous dark history. Mafia,murders,suicide. This is the very place that inspired Stephen King to write “The Shining”.

Outside in the lobby, an elevator is heard coming to the lobby floor. The doors open and the sound of heavy foot steps and blood curdling screams are heard, along with the sound of some thick fluid flooding out of the elevator.

“The spirits are quite restless of course. I feel their pain. For I looked death right in the eye, and lived to tell the tale. Many months ago, when I disappeared from IWF, I'm sure many thought I would never return. In those months, I saw my reservation massacred. I was the only survivor. My sister? God only knows where she was when m people were suffering yet again.”

He shakes his head in disgust.

“I hear she's in the middle of a war for the company. Well I pledge allegiance to no man. I decide what I do when I do it. Bad Company? The Empire? It makes no difference to me. I'm just here to hurt people, and accomplish something I haven't before. They are coming, and hell is coming with them.”

Reaching in the pocket of his black trench coat, he pulls out a pack of pall mall red 100s, shakes one out of the pack, and places it between his lips. He snaps his fingers and a flame appears. He lights his cigarette on the flame,before waving his hand and making the flame vanish. He takes a long slow drag of the cigarette, inhaling slow and deep. He exhales slowly through his nose, giving the appearance of a fire breathing dragon as he continues to speak.

“When I awakened on my reservation and looked around I saw a vision. A vision of the trail of tears. I saw the helpless Cherokees arrested and dragged from their homes, and driven at the bayonet point into the stockades. And in the chill of a drizzling rain on an October morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep into six hundred and forty-five wagons and started toward the west....On the morning of November the 17th they encountered a terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures and from that day until they reached the end of the fateful journey on March the 26th 1839, the sufferings of the Cherokees were awful. The trail of the exiles was a trail of death. They had to sleep in the wagons and on the ground without fire. And I have known as many as twenty-two of them to die in one night of pneumonia due to ill treatment, cold and exposure... “

The storm outside picks up speed. Thunder crashes like a thousand angry drummers, and lightning splits the sky in a dazzling natural light show. Somewhere in the hotel the sound of children humming and laughing echoes.

“For the Cherokee, the trail of tears continues til this day. Which brings me to Violent Impulse. Everyone surely wants to know, why did I do it? Why did I attack Jackyl and Silas Romero? It's simple really. There is no reason...I JUST LIKE DOING THINGS LIKE THAT! It's time EVERYONE feels my pain. Silas Romero, you,especially make sick. A spoiled rich kid, silver spoon implanted firmly in mouth. Everything you could ever want at the age of twelve. You know what I was doing at the age of twelve? I was living on the streets, digging through dumpsters for scraps, fighting for my life, knowing each day could be my last! Your time has come at last. You shall feel the pain of myself and my people for the past five hundred years in the trail of tears.”

A wicked grin passes over Storming Raven's face, as blood flows from his mouth.

“In the trail of tears, there is NO ESCAPE. A twenty foot high steel cage, wrapped in barbed wire and broken glass. The door is welded shut. Inside the cage the most deadly weapons known to man are hanging inside. Pin fall, submission, or the opponent completely incapacitated is the only way to win. If you have the guts to climb out of the cage, the match doesn't end. I only follow, and continue your punishment. YOU'RE IN MY WORLD NOW BITCH. THEY are coming.

The lights in the room begin to flicker rapidly. Storming Raven convulses and his head jerks back as if someone gave him a fierce upper cut. When his face is back to the camera, only the whites of his eyes are seen. A raspy deep demonic voice escapes his lips and the sound echos through out the hotel.

“THEY ARE COMING. WE ARE LEGION, FOR WE ARE MANY!!!!”

The camera flickers on to see Jackyl sitting on a crate in a corner of a dark alley. The only light filtering down is from a street lamp.
He lights a cigarette, puffs a few, and starts clapping his hands.



Jackyl: Well la dee fucking da. Congrats there, Professor Raven. I don’t remember falling asleep that fast since I took U.S. History. Come to think of it, it might have even been the same lecture.
Yeah, yeah I get it Trail of Tears, red-skins wept, it was sad. Who the fuck cares, man?
I’m sure for the next 6 months, maybe even a year, we’re going to hear about your family and friends at the reservation getting banged up, shot up, killed, and scalped or whatever the hell you do. If you ask me, the person that did that job was a little sloppy and an amateur. Mainly because they left you alive, and that would have done the world a favor if they hadn’t.
You see, I’m just a tad bit pissed off. The world knows that’s never a good thing. But the reason I’m pissed off is because I don’t even know what in the fuck I have to do with this mess. Silas Romero and That’s so Raven. Didn’t I kick Romero’s ass a few weeks ago anyway? And this Raven kid, apparently there’s supposed to be a big deal about him.
So far, all I’ve seen is somebody has watched a few too many cheesy supernatural thrillers from the 90s. Pretty soon we’re going to see him dropping in from the rafters and swinging bats everywhere.
The thing is about all that trail of tears shit, nobody cares today. I’m sure that the red-skins and rest of the Native Americans and Indian-Americans do. But that’s minorities for ya. You know what really matters in this world? It’s the majority that matters.
That’s why nobody is going to care what happens to you in this match. Because the majority of it is that they’re going to see me kicking your ass the whole match.
So you can go on giving all the history lessons that you want, you can go on quoting all the country music songs you want, you can go on quoting shitty movies all that you want. None of it’s going to matter, because when we get inside that “trail of tears” only thing that’s going to be left is a trail of your blood leading right to your grave.