The environment was cold, spread thin with vast amounts of nothingness. Silas is standing within this landscape, ankle deep in an unknown liquid. He looks out towards the horizon, with a simple blank but concerned look on his face, trying to find any sign of a feature within the monotonous scene.
A step forward, and the high pitched click of his feet echoes throughout the walless landscape.
A rumbling behind him, and a quick look behind him revealed the source. Rushing towards him, a wave of the unknown liquid, getting bigger as the seconds went by. A few seconds frozen with fear, before he starts sprinting away with great difficulty; the liquid hampering his running ability.
???: Why are you running, Silas?
The voice boomed as the rush of water came ever closer.
???: Is this your fate? Coming close to victory before hampering yourself at the last minute?
Silas tried to ignore the voice as he focused on his running, but the vibrations of the oncoming wave were increasing in volume.
???: Why Silas? Why is that the case?
Silas turned to see the wave, dangerously close, before turning back around and immediately stopping.
PASSENGER: Missing something, or someone?
The water crashes down on the two of them--
---Silas jumps awake! Heavy breaths and clutching his neck and chest as the sensation of drowning temporarily overcame him. A few seconds later his breathing slowed down, as he finally got a moment to himself to observe his surroundings.
He tried to control his breathing, but several instances of it quickening plagued the next few minutes. He knew he was safe, but whatever the reason for the dream was haunting him still. The Passenger shouldn’t be ready to reemerge after Confliction, so what are they talking about? After they talking about his tactics against Scourge?
He felt something on his bare chest. A card, and a quick flip showed it’s contents. “Call me”, it said, followed by a number with a +81 on it.
SILAS ARTORIA: Plus eighty one?
He muttered the code quietly for a few seconds. He feels like he’s used that code before, but for what? He’s travelled around the world with CWF that it was proving to be difficult to keep up.
Whatever the number was, it would need to wait.
His cuts and bruises from his war with Scourge demanded he sleep, and he would be damned if he was going to use an international number on his private phones.
A plane, first class, only Silas Artoria on board. It was nighttime, judging from the closed blinders, and the faint sight of sleeping passengers in coach. An airhostess approaches a comfortable Silas, and passes him a glass of orange juice.
SILAS ARTORIA: Thank you kindly.
The hostess smiles and nods to him, before retreating to close the separation curtains, leaving the Canadian aristocrat alone.
SILAS ARTORIA: I do apologise for taking a redeye flight out of Phoenix. It’s just that I want to be in top shape in the coming weeks, and I feel that my method of defeating Scourge might not be accepted by the Alpha and Omega. I couldn’t risk him confronting me in the car park of my hotel or at the airport when the CWF roster catches their flights, otherwise it would jeopardise what we are all anticipating in a few weeks.
One finger in the air.
SILAS ARTORIA: Silas Artoria…
One finger on the other hand in the air.
SILAS ARTORIA: ...vs Jimmy Allen...
He clasps his hands together.
SILAS ARTORIA: ...for the Paramount Championship and to determine, once and for all, whom the king of this mountain truly is.
A wicked smile escapes him as he rests his hands upon his lap.
SILAS ARTORIA: Exciting, isn’t it? To finally put an end to the lingering question that has been mutter by the CWF audience for months.
He leans back in his chair.
SILAS ARTORIA: Because like it or not, and contrary to what Jimmy Allen said, the people do not see his victory over me, Scarboro, and Scourge as a simple victory. They see a crooked referee denying the true champion his prize, and I know for a fact that the truth behind your victory bothers you.
He leans in close towards the camera; the first class seats giving him ample space to conduct his address in.
SILAS ARTORIA: How does it feel, Jimmy, to know that you championship reign is stained with a poor reputation already? It feeds of you, doesn’t it? I destroys you on the inside, because you know that the official books don’t make a mention of the emotion the people felt and echoed back at Confliction.
He lets out a chuckle, before leaning back into his seat.
SILAS ARTORIA: You’ll get your chance to squash those voices at Vertigo, but the opponent I beat last week stands in your way, and quite frankly, I don’t want him to gain a claim to the Paramount Title. I want that match to be exclusively between the two of us, so while I am echoing the thoughts of the CWF audience that you refuse to hear now, I do wish you the best of luck against Scourge. I hope you win! Little bit of encouragement helps, don’t you think?
SILAS ARTORIA: So, that leaves me with The Crimson Ghost, with an explanation mark at the end of their name. I refuse to say their name as it’s written, because in all honesty, I don’t know what to think of them. I’ve been so preoccupied with the Paramount Grand Prix and it’s subsequent after match to properly pay attention to the rest of the roster.
SILAS ARTORIA: It’s what being goal driven does to you sometimes. It gives you tunnel vision.
His smile returns.
SILAS ARTORIA: Fortunately my four plus hour commute from Phoenix to Toronto has given be ample time to take a look at what you are capable of, and it’s hard to get a good measure because you have gone up against opponents that I’ve never faced before.
He ponders in thought.
SILAS ARTORIA: You’ve won two matches since you’ve arrived, which is one more than your loss record, and comparing win/loss ratios does put the newcomer at a statistical advantage. Coming off a match with Scourge doesn’t help matters, so you could say that the bookies favour The Crimson Ghost.
Beat. A smirk appears.
SILAS ARTORIA: But there is a story within the numbers that is ignored. He has done well since he has arrived, but if I have learned anything from my time here, it’s your failures that make you a better combatant in the ring. You learn what you’ve done wrong, tweet your tactics, and try again, whilst a victory places your confidence in a pattern that can be easily read by looking at your past matches.
He leans to one side.
SILAS ARTORIA: Tell me, did anyone expect me to defeat Scourge by countout? No! They didn’t, because it’s not my opus. But the fact that I did that means that you’re going to find it incredibly difficult to really judge my character.
SILAS ARTORIA: Because even if you have figured me out, you also have to consider my little friend within me, because then there will be too much to comprehend. The human mind can only go so far, and since this will be our first bout together, I highly doubt you’ll be prepared to withstand my devastating offense and equally destructive defence.
He starts tilting his chair back, ready to sleep.
SILAS ARTORIA: I want you to be a better competitor, Crimson Ghost, and I’ll be more than happy to part some of my knowledge as the referee counts to three in my favour.
SILAS ARTORIA: For now….goodnight.
Cut to black.