“Before we even get started this week, I wish to provide a slight spoiler. This week is going to go the same as the last. I will walk my way to the ring, I will obliterate the fool that stands before me, and I will walk away victorious. What will be different this week however is the amount of effort that will be put into making my opponent look like a moron.
Konrad, pay attention because this is all on camera for you buddy, I wasn’t impressed when I first came upon you all those years ago, and now you're even less interesting now that the mask is off, literally in your case.
The Iceman is gonna melt in the heat of the demon of death. So, basically what I am saying is I will walk into Vegas, snap you in half, and take another couple of points. There’s no point playing spoiler this week, you’re never gonna amount to anything anyways, so instead I will exercise some of the demons in me that need a good chance to stretch their legs. If I can send you packing back to the Vaterland with your tail between your legs, well then I’ve done my job.
Now, buckle up lads and ladies, because we are taking a trip to Vegas.”
The bright lights of Vegas nights. There wasn’t much that Ripper found more peaceful than looking out over a well lit city as the sky above cloaked the area in pure, unadulterated darkness. Long time viewers would know just how much Danny enjoyed relaxing, sipping away on something expensive, watching the world go round. Well, that’s exactly where he was right now. The Skyfall lounge might be a little out of most CWF stars price range, and that’s exactly why he liked it.
Danny has also seemingly found some of his old self since toppling Styles at Evolution, having ditched the worn t-shirt and ripped jeans in favour of a classic grey suit, topped off with a satin baby blue shirt and matching tie. Giving off far more of an air of class and affluence than he had in recent months, he sipped away at his little umbrella topped drink, looking out over the City of Second Chances. Surprisingly he sat alone. As the world moved around him, including a couple of evidently rich white boy groups behind him determined to make themselves the centre of attention. Sure, he had thought about throwing them over the edge once or twice, but had decided in his infinite wisdom that it probably wasn’t the greatest of ideas. Fun, but not smart.
Besides, he had a lot more to be thinking about. Yes, there was the upcoming squash match as he faced off against Konrad Raab, but his mind was already beyond that. There certainly was no rest for the wicked, and the moment that his name was announced as the winner of the match he would be heading right to the parking lot in order to make it halfway across the world by Wednesday morning. Part of him enjoyed the mad rush though, felt more interesting than just waiting for each match to come along just as something to do.
In the meantime though, he sat quietly, allowing the mad world around him to continue spinning, watching as the casinos, food joints and spreads of adult entertainment lured in the unsuspecting, the reckless and the weary, spying on those who left dejected, and eyeing those who left rosy cheeked. New York may be considered the cultural epicenter of the world, but Vegas was the cross-section of humanity.
He was so deep in his own thoughts and observations that he hadn't noticed the slight disturbance behind him. Apparently, when two giant men begin to walk through a crowd, there tends to be some commotion. Alcis and Atlas grabbed a couple of seats and placed themselves at the same table overlooking the strip. Ripper didn't look at either of them as they awkwardly placed themselves in seats designed for more average sized people, but lifted and tipped his drink in acknowledgment. To him, it didn't matter what important news they had to share. He honestly wasn't in the mood, he just to sit there, sipping his drink and watching the world around him.
Konraad, Konraad, Konraad. Must be real interesting to be in your boots right now eh? I mean, your success rate so far has been miserable at best, but now you have to stare down the barrel at the instrument of oblivion that is the best wrestler in this shit show we call an existence.
You were backstage, you heard. You felt it. Yeah, I'm not undefeated right now. But get what? Points matter less than impact. You're standing in that ring this week against the man that forever changed the lives of Phoenix Lestrange and Tom Marrow. The man that Duce Jones couldn't beat, the man that golden boy Freddie Styles fell too. What are you in comparison, what chance do you, middling fuckmonkey that you are, stand against this almighty specimen of human destruction?
I've heard a lot about Chaos bringers in my time. Most are utter bullshit. Even CWF's resident man of chaos is a straight shooter with a personality complex. You though? You redefine chaos. Not as a vengeful or threatening existence, a challenge to the mere psyche of the human condition, no. The chaos you bring is ensuring that all people that have to fight you and all those that have to watch you are bored to the point of fucking genocide. Not so much a deliberate action as an unfortunate correlation.
The prophecy of the iceman will come true, you'll freeze in the blinding light of opportunity. Sucks to be you."[/i]
Despite the fame, fortune and dashing good looks, Danny was still a solitary creature, and was always happier to not stand out in a crowd. Not so easy when you're walking down the Vegas strip looking like you're bloody royalty or something which two huge bodyguards flanking you on either side. Secretly wishing at least one of them had decided not to wear a black suit, Danny did everything he could not to linger too much in fear of being recognised.
Sometimes embracing the love was a fun pastime, other times it was nothing more than a grand annoyance, and honestly, this was one of those times. He had accompanied Atlas and Alcis to Nevada as a pair of silent ears. The two of them, as mentioned once or twice, had a habit of being noticed in a crowd. But, it was Atlas' contact they had to be there for, and due to a rather fortuitous poker game a number of years ago, Danny wasn't the most welcome person in such company.
So, while the two giant sons of Anubis were conducting their business, he could happily hide in plain sight, spending his time wisely. That time had passed, and under the bright lights of insomnia and decadence, they now had to make their way to yet another seedy little corner of this town.
"Please do remind me why a vehicle was not an option at this stage?"
Danny was just as irritated by the need to traverse the streets on foot. After all, $1000 worth of beautiful Italian leather was being scraped along these horrid, putrid sidewalks, but alas, he knew that in some situations, an enclosed metal box wasn't always the best way to travel.
Atlas conveyed a similar message to his older half brother by simply tapping him on the arm. Now, when you're tapped on the arm by a 400 pound tree trunk of a man, you tend to feel it a bit, and as such all seven foot of the man nearly stumbled into a group of passing hen-goers, some of which eyed up Ripper's companions with a little interest. Neither were exactly Brad Pitt, but that honestly seemed not to matter. As Danny had come to learn, size doesn't always matter, but it certainly sparks curiosity.
Frankly, at this point, he didn't care for all these pleasantries, he just wanted to get this shit over with and get back to training. He'd once again developed that taste for blood, and couldn't wait to sink his teeth into yet another victim.
It seems that there has always been an illusion about me, that I don't care… that I'm only here to collect a paycheck and screw up plans for other people.
Let me set the record straight on this right this minute. This is all true. But it's not all the truth. See, I also like hurting people, I also like busting egos and putting big shots in their place. Some just don't get that, because they are too busy either trying to prove themselves, or thinking that they are the big shot that runs this place. I don't care for that. I know I don't run shit besides my mouth. I used to mind you, but that was then and this is now.
CWF has forever been solemnly looking to implode from within. It's risen from the ashes a few times now, but one thing always stays the same. The Ripper is always lurking. Rishel Sr. Knew it, Steven Gamble knew it, Sahn knew it, and that bastard kid knows it. I am integral to the rise and fall of this company.
What the fuck are you Raab? Another journeyman looking for that big break, another could be floating in a world of why would we?
You're in my way iceman, I promise you that when this boot stomps down on you, you will crack, you will sink, you will drown.
Thank you for coming. You're the next in line to fall. The beast has been awakened, and monster school is in session. Lesson number one, how this time next year, how to properly celebrate Konrad on Dias de la Muerte.
Have at you kid."