[Darkness withholds many fears and mysteries. Things which cannot be explained and things that you do not want explained. The things that keep children awake at night, things that supply an insomniac with their dreaded disease, things that push some into insanity. These are the things that keep beings like Crimson Skull fueled these are the things that remind us each day that for every ounce of Good in this world, there will always be a pound of Evil to rival it.
It is within darkness that we find ourselves. The always present storms looming overhead lighting up the scene periodically, reminding us that He is at work here. The things that appear every so often are to remind you that this is his style, that these are his trademarks, that the scenes in which we find ourselves drawn into are the everyday happenings of one Crimson Skull.
Beings of higher intelligence would learn with experience that certain things in life happen for a reason, and in the same respect, certain things are best left alone. Storms happen because of an imbalance in the atmosphere and the surroundings. A snake, if prodded or provoked will sink its fangs into a regretful soul. These metaphors of comparison being used are to show us once more that Crimson Skull is one to prove things need be left alone, and things happen for a reason.]
Evil has many faces, but none have compared to his.
A flickering candlelight is all that is seen by the lens of the camera in this dark room. The dancing flame casts shadows across the room. Silence, except for the crackle of the flame, fills your ears, making that thudding feeling reverberate on your eardrums. This is until the creaking of a wooden chair is heard. Slowly, a familiar face leans in towards the flame. His sinister grin spreads across his face as he stares at the flame. He inhales, preparing to speak.
“In time, we all burn out. And like this flame, the wick that is our supply of energy, it only lasts so long. But sometimes, we’re cut short and the flame of life is extinguished.”
He laughs solemnly and then exhales, cutting of the flame.
“And once again, we are shrouded in darkness. If the bible speaks to be true, we await in that purgatory, awaiting our final judgment, awaiting our arrivals in heaven or hell.
But for some, our life on Earth is a living Hell. Some of us endure the most horrific of experiences that it sends us grasping for hope and answers in the farthest outreaches of our minds. And sometimes, that sends us into insanity. But, insanity has its blissful side. No morale, no guilt, and apathy.
It is these three principals that most of my life has been based upon. Most children spend their lives loving their family and enjoying their days. But as for me, my childhood was shrouded in darkness and fueled by hatred.”
As he speaks, the camera begins to shift into the view of an old fashioned camera reel. The picture seems restored to be in color. It shows a child sitting in a solid white room. A small two feet squared window is the only thing that allows color to enter the room. The door, the door handle, the bed, the bed frame, the sheets, the pillows, everything is solid white. All things except for one corner of the room. Where near this corner a child lay in the fetal position, gripping its knees into its chest. This child is covered in bandages from head to toe, white bandages too. The only bit of color is in his sad blue eyes and the bloody fingertip of his right pointer finger. The camera tilts up above him to show the wall of his room. On the wall, written in blood scrawled, juvenile letters reads:
I’m sorry Mommy.
Before long a nurse with flowing red hair enters and begins to soothe the child while looking upon the art he has done on the wall. Though the picture is silent, her lips read “Help” as she seems to be yelling. Soon, more nurses enter the room and try to contain the child who has now become more aggressive, swatting and gouging anyone who gets near him. That is until a man supporting his weight upon a cane enters the room. The child simmers down as the man nears him. The man places his hand atop the child’s head and begins to pet it soothingly. The child wraps it’s arms around the man as the sound is heard for the first time.
Child: I’m scared, daddy, I’m scared.
Man: I know, Damien, I know.
This fades away and the screen is now fixated upon modern day with Crimson Skull sitting atop his throne made of human skulls.
“Not many children spend adolescence in fear of their dead mother resurrecting and coming for them to take them to the grave that was meant for them. Someone who was so badly burned and scarred that only a miracle could have kept them alive, living their life in sorrow thinking their mother damned them for surviving and leaving her to swelter and her flesh melt away in a horrid flame gone out of control.
But I did.
Night after night I feared sleeping, for I knew that is where she awaited me. I knew that she would be there to take me with her to burn in the deepest fathoms of Hell. That was until my father discovered a sedative that kept me from dreaming. I had found my first sense of peace in many years when those sedatives entered my life. But, everything comes at a high price. For the price of no longer having dreams, I had hallucinations during the day that sent me further into insanity.
The hallucinations became so violent that my father was forced to put me into a chemically induced coma.
For three years, I lie in the same bed with numerous machines wired into my body to observe my bodily functions, and for three years, I was at peace. Then, on the sixth day of June, I awoke just as a nurse was doing the routine check up. When she shone the penlight into my eyes, fear ran cold through her veins, for that was when the once sad, blue eyes of a child had turned into the blackest eyes of the fiercest demon. Needless to say, that was my first victim. They never found the body, and they never knew that I escaped until it was too late.
Into solitude I went, to learn what I could of this world and what I could of my newfound insatiable appetite for evil.
I do not blame my father for what happened to me, but I do thank him. Because, if it weren’t for him I would not be the monster that I am today.
After I had soon ascertained the abilities I perform daily in this modern time, I began the procedure of taking my opponents into a body bag and tossing them into the alternate dimension I like to call home, and what is the deepest outreaches of my mind. Everyday, thousands of souls and thousands of lives curse me for taking their lives from them and taking everything they loved from them. In the beginning it was hard for me to control it, but now, it is but whispers in the wind to me. It is with these things that I have endured that lead me to say, that I fear nothing.
I fear no man, I fear no single being, and I certainly do not fear Johnny Stylez.
I tell you this story, to fully show you what made me who I am. We needn’t know the story of what made Johnny Stylez who he is today, it should be a short story.
Johnny can go on and on about how he will reign over me as king. But this king’s rule is far from over.
I am not called the Crimson King just because it’s a catchy title, I am called the Crimson King, because a king I truly have become. Johnny, you will always remain a pauper in my kingdom. It will take more than your over-used mouth and second-rate talent to dethrone me this time.
You see, unlike you I step up the game whenever an obstacle steps in my path.
You haven’t truly changed since you have been in the main event status.
You are the same Johnny Stylez that was the United States Champion.
You pride yourself in believing that you have become that much greater, but the reality is that you are further from the truth. The only thing that has become greater about you is your foolish pride.
I find different ways to get into my opponent’s head, and I can find different things to say about them.
I don’t have to take their own words and switch them on my opponent.
I don’t have to remind them who they pinned in a match, they know it.
I simply show them why I am the champion.
Just like I will show you tomorrow night, in the Chamber of Horrors.
This match couldn’t be any more up my alley. If I was you Johnny, I’d fake a injury to save yourself the trouble, the embarrassment, and the pain. There’s not a damn thing that you can do to take this title away from me.
You’ve had you chance, now, you’re all washed up.
You’re old news Johnny, you’re a fading memory of yesterday.
I am the bright future of tomorrow.
It is time for you to learn your place in it all, my friend. Your place is to step down and bow out of this act, you’ve done your part and the audience has had enough of you. This is your last Hoorah. But you won’t walk out with my title.
You might as well switch shows or find another champion to bore, I’ve had enough of seeing your face and hearing your mouth run on and on about the same damn things you were saying about yourself before Gang Warz.
All great things must come to an end, just like your title reign ended at War Games. Now its my turn to hang onto this belt. But unlike you Johnny, I will bring this belt to being something worth fighting for. I will cleanse this title of the shame you brought to it.
I’m not going to hand this title over to you, willingly and let you get the upperhand through a fluke.
This title isn’t leaving my waist, period. The only one person I can see taking this title from me, is Barelai Von’Vicious. He is the only one that deserves the title and he is the only one who has worked for it.
There is a difference between running your mouth and proving yourself worthy for something. Your career has been based off of running your mouth, Stylez. I’ve spent mine proving my worthiness. Now, you will wither away in self-pity wishing that you had just been good enough to beat Crimson Skull when it really mattered.
You’ve won many battles, but you won’t win the war.
Prepare yourself for a night in Hell, Stylez. Chamber of Horrors is exactly what I’ve been waiting for all along to prove that I am better than you. You can certainly talk the talk, but when it comes to walking the walk, you are at a stand still.
I must say, I admire your attempt at a different approach. Trying your hand at something epic, something of mystics. But I must say, you need work. Leave the entertainment stuff to the guys who do it best. As for you, keep up what you’ve been doing all along.
Being the little bitch you are, and hiding behind an ego.”
Skull’s laughter bellows from deep within his stomach and begins to echo into the room. It seems uncontrollable, maniacal, almost sadistic. The laughter stops as abruptly as it started.
“You should have taken the lesson I gave you time and time again. Don’t fuck with the Reaper. It might be your last mistake.”
He chuckles solemnly as a green flame sparks upon the candle. The camera zooms in, watching the flames dance wildly.
As you become entranced by the innocent flame’s dancing, an image flashes on the screen and a woman’s screaming can be heard as you see Crimson Skull’s mother being burned in the green flames.
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April 22nd 2007, 7:23 am