Title: Mould
Featuring: Silas Artoria
Date: 22nd October 2018
Location: Toronto - Canada
Show: Evolution 33



After the Hell in a Cell Match - Detroit, Michigan, Hellbound

The bustling sounds of doctors and medical personal flood the room as they focus on the subject, currently tied down on a gurney to ensure nothing of harm comes to him. Numerous officials check on every single part of his body. One takes care of the cut on Silas' forehead, others check his arms, and one of them checks his legs and feet.

DOCTOR 1: Wound sealed, cleaning now.

DOCTOR 2: Got nothing on his arms.

DOCTOR 1: Nothing broken?

DOCTOR 2: Some bruising, some swelling emerging, but nothing broken.

DOCTOR 1: Have the EMTs been called?

DOCTOR 2: Dr Leggett is on it.

DOCTOR 3: Ankle is swelling up, bruising, applying ice pack.

Silas could just about feel the chilling application as the door opens up. Dr Leggett passed through the opening as every doctor in the room pauses their activity to look at the medical officer. Dr Leggett doesn't as much as nod in greeting, and simply looks at the bound Canadian coldly.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: How is he?

DOCTOR 1: Nothing broken, numerous swelling and bruising.

He sighs and nods, swallowing his own spit as he looks away from Silas and onto the doctor.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Is he aware?

SILAS ARTORIA: I can hear you, doctor.

The good doctor glances Silas, his face now increasingly furious as the man who intimidated production into starting the man smiled innocently, seemingly unaware of the consequences of ignoring Leggett.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: How is his neck?

DOCTOR 1: Nothing worse than it was before. Did his scans indicate anything to be aware of?

Dr Leggett disregards the question.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Get him out back, the ambulance will be here any minute.

SILAS ARTORIA: I'm not going anywhere, especially in an ambulance, especially to a hospital.

Dr Leggett stares at Silas, almost as if he was powerless despite one being more mobile than the other, and was was because that was the case. Silas grins to confirm what he suspected, and Leggett sighs heavily. He couldn't do anything to push him into the ambulance. Contract or not, if someone refuses medical treatment, nobody can forcibly apply it. Leggett doesn't even have the benefit of implied concent. He grits his teeth, and waves his hand.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Leave us.

DOCTOR 1: What abou--

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Now!

Dr Leggett stares down the doctor, shutting down the argument in the process. The numerous medical personal didn't raise their voices, or even sigh in defeat. They just left and closed the door without as much as a peep. Dr Leggett simply looks at Silas and maintains his sternness, with a hint of fury previously unseen from the man. Silas smiles, as if routine.

SILAS ARTORIA: I guessing you're not here to congratulate me on my performance tonight?

The doctor doesn't even attempt an answer, nor acknowledge the question. He starts pacing around the room, with the sound of his boots giving the atmosphere a foreboding tone, as if it was holding back something far more dangerous. Silas couldn't see it, and simply progressing with his dismissive and pompous attitude.

SILAS ARTORIA: You have to admit doctor, it gave the audience a visually spectacular bout, full of suspense, drama, and horrible brushes with death. Me at the top of the cell? Falling thirty feet through an announce table? How can you compete with that? We had the semi-main event slot and we proved that we deserved to be in that spot. There's only one title that would've surpassed us and we left every other one in the dust. Paramount, tag, Impact, nothing compared to us two, and cemented that the CWF truly has it's equivalent of the "Four Pillars of Heaven". 

Silas chuckles as Dr Leggett continues his pacing, unamused.

SILAS ARTORIA: You have MJ, Shadow, myself, and possibly one more. Can you think of anyone who could be one of the four main attractions? I don't! Maybe Colton but he can't do anything by himself and has to be constantly babysat, and that's not the making of a true competitor. Hell, I remember one fateful day when he ate a tag team pin clean as a whistle, so I would have to call his credibility into question! He's a spoiled child, and we all know we can't continue to offer them attention. It just makes them worse. Don't you agree, Dr Leggett?

Finally, Dr Leggett slams his hands on a nearby table, face flooded in anger, and turning red.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: THIS ISN'T A GAME, SILAS!

Silas doesn't acknowledge his rage, although being tied to a board doesn't allow him to express much before simple facial expressions, but he keeps up the smile.

SILAS ARTORIA: We gave the people what they wanted! Surely you of all people would understand that!

DR HARMON LEGGETT: I gave explicit directions to both you, and the production staff, live on air. And you intimidated them to lower the cage and essentially undermine my authority!

SILAS ARTORIA: The people would've rioted!

DR HARMON LEGGETT: YOU COULD'VE DIED, SILAS! THEN WHAT!?? "Oh, we were giving the people what they want!" WHAT KIND OF EXCUSE WOULD THAT BE IF WE HAD TO RELEASE THAT STATEMENT!?

SILAS ARTORIA: Would've been interesting on a headstone.

Silas chuckles as Dr Leggett paces back, frustrated by Silas' lack of care.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: My job is to ensure you and everyone else here is in good condition to compete, and to not endanger yourself unnecessarily. I can clear people with some minor stings and aches so long as they go through proper medical checks, but necks!? That I will not clear under any circumstances! I don't care if you pulled out a great match! I don't care if it's the greatest match of all time! You can believe that all you want! I don't care! You went out and endangered yourself!

SILAS ARTORIA: Don't we do that already as part of our job?

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Jesus Christ.

Dr Leggett buries his head in his hands as he's metaphorically pulls his hair out of his head. How was he going to get to this guy? He doesn't care about his safety, he doesn't care about his life, and he doesn't care about the CWF's medical integrity! What the hell can he do?

Dr Leggett turns to Silas.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: I didn't want to do this, I really didn't, but I've got to suspend you!

Silas' face turns to confusion, probably not understanding the true gravity of his words.

SILAS ARTORIA: Excuse me?

DR HARMON LEGGETT: You heard! I'm suspending you. Three months?

SILAS ARTORIA: WHAT!?

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Maybe some time back in your compound will give time to screw that head back on. Maybe your neck will fully heal, since I don't have the results yet!

He takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to dial numbers, not stopping to even glance at Silas, whom was still bound to the gurney.

SILAS ARTORIA: You kidding me? You're going to suspend one of the top star--

DR HARMON LEGGETT: I don't care if you're Billy Anderson of MJ Flair. You ignored my instructions and went against your contract. I'm calling it in, and you're going to ta--

The phone unexpectedly starts to ring, silencing both Silas and Dr Leggett. The two glance at each other, but Leggett answers and places the device against his ear.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: Dr Leggett.......yes, I'm with him now. I'm going to file for immediate suspension......breaking clause 6.1 concerning medical clearance, and I'm going to have a word with Culross and Heslop regarding their conduct.........yes, they endangered his life, despite seeing my declara--excuse me?

Dr Leggett's face turns from stonefaced, office worker into pure surprise, piquing Silas' interest.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: You can't be serious? We haven't got the results back! We don't know how bad his neck is. You surely can't be...........yes.....yes, I'll tell him. I'll speak further in debriefing. Bye.

He hangs up, and Silas smiles in excitement, almost giddy at the prospect of what was said over the phone.

SILAS ARTORIA: Let me guess, whomever was on the other side of the phone said that they want me to continue working starting next week? It's almost poetic in a way.

DR HARMON LEGGETT: They still want the results when it comes, but until then, you're going to be working a tag match against the Danger Boiz.

Silas laughs.

SILAS ARTORIA: Those guys!? Wow! It's like those guys haven't grasped the definition of insanity! Should probably bring some kendo sticks just make it a running theme! Can't wait to deliver the one-two-three another time for a perfect record! Hah! I love it!

He coughs.

SILAS ARTORIA: Oh, who's my partner?


Four taps from the desk per second, each coming from each of Silas' fingers as he sits at his desk back in Toronto, leaning against his over hand, and unamused of his situation. Nothing quirky, not showboat, not even any upbeat music that has almost become trademark. Just an infuriated looking Silas sitting on his desk, with a glass of orange juice nearby. The tapping contines.

SILAS ARTORIA: Why do I get the feeling that mistakes will be on your shoulders forever?

He looks at the camera lens, with the echoing sounds of his fingers tapping continuing on.

SILAS ARTORIA: Like, if you give the wrong person the cold shoulder or some change, that gesture would end up haunting you for the rest of your life?

The tapping stops, and his palm slams on the desk.

SILAS ARTORIA: Because that's how I feel at the moment. Haunted, shadowed, followed, anything that could describe the situation that has been a constant for several months! I leave and change my entire composure and attitude, and I end up becoming a highlight of CWF in ways that very few can imagine or achieve. I'm on top of the world, I am the king of the world, and I will maintain that until someone demonstrates to me that I am not so.

I wish I could brag my Hell in a Cell match with Shadow that nearly didn't go ahead if it wasn't for my intervention.

I wish I could talk about my match with the ultimate tag team from the dregs of the ditches, the Danger Boiz, whom have never defeated me in every single match encountered.

wish, I wish, I wish I could talk to you all tonight about how I am going to pulverize, powderise, and disassemble both men to the point that they would have to think twice before returning to the CWF.

He shrugs.

SILAS ARTORIA: But I can't! I can't because of a mistake I made ten months ago to take someone under my wing. A mistake that has been used against me, time and time again, by both the people who compete in this ring, and by the people running the show. My audacity to carry three people into the spotlight to become premiere athletes has cost me my credibility. A credibility that I have worked for the past two months to rebuild.

And just when I think I've left my mistakes behind, back into the limelight they come.

He grabs his orange juice and examines it, contemplating and lost in thought.

SILAS ARTORIA: I was thinking about opening a bottle of old merlot I have in my wine cellar after hearing the news of my match, but even something of....extreme distress won't turn me into an alcoholic. You'll learn a few things from a drunken grandfather.

He quickly downs the drink, then looks at the glass again, still lost in thought. Almost in pure disbelief.

SILAS ARTORIA: Autumn Raven, the plague that never goes away.

Once you think you've ridden yourself of it, it comes back to bite you in the backside.

He grits his teeth, and the glass in his hand shatters, with the broken shards embedding themselves into his fist.

SILAS ARTORIA: How could I be so stupid? I let this woman into my home to train and refine, and it's brought nothing but trouble. And when I disposed of her, she's been a constant nucience ever since. Because at the end of the day, regardless or whether or not I lose, the feedback, both before and after the match, will always be the same.

"Ooh, I wonder how these two enemies will get along!" "Oooh! You could see the two were at each others throats!" or "Jesus, who booked this?"

He throws the blood-soaked shards away/

SILAS ARTORIA: I can tell you who booked this, since Ataxia is now out of power! It's booked by some of the most cynical and nauseating people in existance; people who get a thrill from watching people self destruct while not realizing that the end result will amount to nothing.

No one is going to be talking about how I, Silas Artoria, once again disassemble the Danger Boiz and continue the tradition of turning their chests into steaks through the medium of kendo sticks! They're going to talk about what went on between Autumn and myself, regardless if we win or she eats the pin.

And the sad part is that this'll benefit no one. It won't benefit the Danger Boiz whom could've had the opportunity to achieve some relevency, it won't benefit Autumn whom will always remain in the shadows of those more impressive and more imposing in the company.

And most importantly, it won't benefit me in any way, regardless of how you twist it. I'll defeat guys whom have never been a real issue for me since I arrive at this company, or Autumn once again demonstrates why she is commonly referred to as a liability. Plain and simple.

He leans over the desk, pointing to the camera with his fingers covered in blood.

SILAS ARTORIA: You know me. If something doesn't go the way I want or need it to, I have a talent on making it so. I made my Hell in a Cell match with Shadow happen without being in front of the actual people whom directed Hellbound. So while the Danger Boiz struggle to get to grips with having to once again face the cold reality that they are not wanted back in the company, I'm going to figure out why, on this cruel, unforgiving plain of existance, that they continue to match me up with Autumn Raven.

I said that my connection with Autumn needs to end at some point, and by at least the end of the year, I intend to make that happen. Wipe the slate clean, replace it with more worthwhile thoughts and memories, like making pancakes.

His hand lowers, and a familiar smile appears on his face.

SILAS ARTORIA: So....Danger Boiz....I hope you have ambulance's ready, because you're going to need a direct trip to the Intensive Care Unit when I am done with the pair of you. And frankly, it's insulting to my intelligence that I've been matched with you two again.

So from me, goodnight, and prepare for your dissection.

Bang!

The feed cuts out.



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