Title: Jazz and Scallops
Featuring: Silas Artoria
Date: 30/03/19
Location: Colorado Springs, Colorado
Show: Evolution 47

It was done. He had made his declaration.

He knew that in order to ensure he would have the upperhand that he would have to set the match on his own terms. He was happy that all outside factors between the two of them had finally been buried. Scourge was no longer a problem between the two of them, Scarboro has Hostility to deal with, leaving only Silas Artoria and the champion Jimmy Allen. Jimmy certainly attempted to get the other hand, but he fell into the paradox.

There was indeed a contract to finalise the match on the table, but the only one who could sign it was Silas Artoria. If anyone else tried to sign it, the paperwork would immediately be void. No exceptions. He was firmly higher up on the mountain.

And that gave Silas some satisfaction as he went through the curtain, leaving Jimmy behind. The ball was in his court, and he decided which direction it would go.

PASSENGER: Any ideas?

He had a few in mind, but he would have until next week to finalise which path to the Paramount Title he would ultimately take. Silas kept quiet as he passed through the gorilla position, ensuring no one was within an earshot as he answered his spirit within his head.

SILAS ARTORIA: I have one in mind.


SILAS ARTORIA: I like the drama. I want to keep him in a state of penumbra.

PASSENGER: Interesting approach.

There was a more pressing issue. He ran into his locker room and immediately beelined for the nearest television. He got comfortable, and opened up the previous Unhinged PPV. The phone call with the mysterious stranger didn’t help anything, nor was he inclined to answer Silas’ questions, but his last comment at least opened an avenue of thought.

He watched the part he partook in many, many times on automatic loop, analysing each frame with copious amounts of detail, bordering on obsession. He was glued to the screen to the point that his eyes become bloodshot from the strain.

But it wasn’t the match he watched. He has seen this match so many times to the point he could recall the whole thing, move by move, second by second. It was a pivotal match for Silas, but right now it was completely irrelevant.

He had his eyes glued to the audience.

SILAS ARTORIA: Now...which one of you could it be.

A high rise restaurant. The view of Colorado Spings at night time sticks out as the glossy white interior with numerous lively plants stick out from different parts of the floor. Some near the elevated platforms of which some tables and a bar sits, two on the stage where a small jazz band play a song on loop, and small decorative ones sit at the centre of the table our primary subject resides in tonight.

WAITRESS: Your drink sir?

The smart-looking lady gently rests the light green and transparent drink with ice cubes upon the table, as Silas looks at her and smiles.

SILAS ARTORIA: Thank you kindly.

He picks up the menu and points to certain texts, just as the waitress quickly got out the little pad and pen.

SILAS ARTORIA: I’ll take the pan seared scallops with saffron and celeriac puree, then some kind prawns and lobster with the agnolotti, with a side of Korean carrots and greens please.

A few seconds, the waitress nods and takes the ivory white menu off the canadian, and thanks him for his order. Silas picks up the drink, and looks into the frame.

SILAS ARTORIA: You know, when there are so many things being thrown at you at one time, you’re more likely to have a complete meltdown. It’s stressful, and that can had an adverse effect on your life. Not positive.

He takes a sip.

SILAS ARTORIA: Every now and then you need to come to places like this. Pricey, certainly, but with the polite and smooth service, complete with music that keeps you mellow throughout your time attending, the person you become after two or three hours here will jar against the person you was before.

Another sip.

SILAS ARTORIA: Can’t go wrong with a bit of calming jazz. Gives you time to think, and thinking I have been.

He places the glass down on the table, and sits himself up in his chair, as he takes off his jacket. The concierge is quick, and takes the item of clothing off him. Silas doesn’t look at him, but he does address him.


He picks up the napkin and starts to unfold it.

SILAS ARTORIA: First of all, the title situation with Jimmy Allen. I am happy where we are at this point of time. The two of us really want to take it out on each other come Vertigo, I am in the middle of planning what will likely happen at the PPV, and best of all, there is no one in the picture. Just...perfection.

The napkin goes on his lap as he picks up his glass again.

SILAS ARTORIA: The people are engaged too, which means that the value of the two of us is continuously increasing with each passing day. Jimmy has the crowd on his side when he talks about being the champion, and I have the crowd on my side when I must mention that it ended with the worst of finishes. We’re heading to a decisive conclusion, and I couldn’t ask for more.


SILAS ARTORIA: I will talk to Jimmy after his match with newcomers Aries and Kennedy, for I fear I won’t be in the right state of physicality come the end of my match with Ataxia.

A darkly but admiring grin appears on his face, as he takes another sip.

SILAS ARTORIA: Oh Ataxia, how things have changed and yet how things stay the same.


SILAS ARTORIA: Last year you was the nuclear hot fan favourite, and in the past few weeks you have not only killed the audience support, you practically skinned it alive and hung it up as a warning.

Sip, then puts the glass down and he leans back. Back is getting a little stiff.

SILAS ARTORIA: Meanwhile, I have worked my way up from battling a demon of my creation, to trudging through pain, to making amends for my past actions, to willfully participating in a gruelling challenge to build up support. We are in a position where fans prefer me over you, and saying that one year ago, or even six months ago would have you laughed out of any establishment or federation.


SILAS ARTORIA: But that is the situation we are in now, and without as much as a nudge from management, they decided to put the two of us together in a hardcore match to see if we can kill each other.

He shrugs lightly.

SILAS ARTORIA: Lord knows why! We haven’t had a spat since that cage match the two of us partook in back at Golden Intentions, and you made the fatal fourway match at WrestleFest a reality which ended up nearly stealing the whole show. I haven’t mentioned you, you haven’t mentioned me, yet it is our time to clash again.

Hand on chin, quick dive into through.

SILAS ARTORIA: No idea why they would put a hardcore match third from top. You would think that a match with such a stipulation would come on much later, because in the end the two of us are most likely going to inflict scars on each other that could last until we depart from the world. You’d figure that such a spectacle would wear down the crowd to the point that they would sit on their hands for the rest of the show!

Deep and light chuckle, he returns to his drink as a waitress comes to his table. His starters have arrived. Nice, hot, and impeccable presentation. Lesser chefs would cut off limbs to get even the slightest opportunity to learn how to make such a dish.

Silas points out the dish to the frame.

SILAS ARTORIA: Look at it. It’s the perfect representation of what will happen in a few days. Such wonderful spectacle, yet so enthralling that you want to know what goes into it.


SILAS ARTORIA: Well, I can tell you one thing that will go into it.


SILAS ARTORIA: A man with unrivalled determination and a goal to build his momentum going into Vertigo. You’re not going to see a broken man in a downward and confusing spiral like the one we saw at Golden Intentions. You’re going to see a man whom has finally rebuilt his life after months of struggle, hardship, and a steep climb to get to where he is now. And you will get nothing less!

Pause, a grin crawls on his face, as he finally digs a fork into his starters and takes a bit of the scallops. He closes his eyes and indulges the flavour for what feels like an eternity, as he savours the moment before swallowing.

SILAS ARTORIA: I lie. This isn’t the perfect representation of our match.


SILAS ARTORIA: Because if it was, the aftertaste would be unbearable and rotten, complete with pieces of hessian fibres getting stuck within your teeth.


SILAS ARTORIA: The sack you wear is disintegrating, and while your skill is certainly grand, there comes a moment when an athlete changes fundamentally.

Quick smile.

SILAS ARTORIA: And despite your attitude, you haven’t changed one little bit. And I am prepared for that. You’re not prepared for me.


SILAS ARTORIA: As for the situation with the mystery man…?

He stops, ponders in thought, and doesn’t even elicit a smile. It was difficult measuring what emotion he was emanating, as he dives further and further into his thoughts without finding an answer.

SILAS ARTORIA: Well...I guess we’ll have to explore the mystery together.

A wicked smile.

SILAS ARTORIA: Goodnight, and see you in Colorado!

Cut to black.

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