Post by Kai Stevens on Dec 28, 2018 22:59:55 GMT
THE BOOK OF
KAI STEVENS
CHAPTER THREE:
blood on my hands
“There’s blood on my hands,
like the blood in you.
Some things can’t be treated, so
don’t make me, don’t make me
be myself around you.”
The Used
Considering the eviscerated flesh scarcely adorning his forehead, grimacing at the poor level of English being spoken by the majority of the medical attendants backstage here in the Tokyo Dome after ALPHA Wrestling’s end-of-the-year Pay-Per-View, Day of Reckoning is a poor plan. Nonetheless, Divine Wrestling Pure Champion and still ALPHA World Heavyweight Champion Kai Stevens does precisely this. He uses his forearm to force one such medical technician to maintain his distance from him so that he might speak unencumbered. He curls the corner of his lip into a confident smirk before he lifts up his hands to peer down at them, at the faded staining of the blood from his macabre Steel Cage match against Aaron Arkham, from which he emerged victorious mere moments ago. His eyes flick up to the camera ominously, though his peripheral remains focused on the literal blood on his palms.
“Blood,” begins the Infernal Baptist. “It’s something of yours that I’ve become quite acquainted with over the past couple of months, Maddox.” As if on cue, that confident smirk of his slyly spreads into an ominous grin. “I’m often… Often accused of having a bloodlust. They say they can… Can see it in my eyes or some bullshit like that. They… They point to what I did to Phoenix in the New Age Deathmatch, call it evidence. They point to how I split Landon Mitchell’s skull open on steel with a smile on my face wider than the rip of his flesh, they call it evidence. They point to how I burned down Aaron Arkham’s dojo, hoping -- PRAYING -- to God that he were inside, they call that evidence, too. But, Mikey? They don’t point to how I’ve brutalized you. How I’ve beaten the shit out of you every single time I’ve seen your ugly mug and had to endure your stench in my presence. In other words, you motherfucker? They don’t give a flying fuck about you.” Stevens bows his head forward ever-so-slightly, so that he might peer up at the camera through bloodsoaked eyebrows. “They don’t mention how easily, how consistently I’ve bled you like a stuck pig, Maddox, because your name carries no weight in this industry past the confines of the otherwise unoccupied cavern of your skull,” he snickers. “But come next weekend, you shitstain? Come next weekend I will give you a legacy. I will forever imprint your name in the annals of history. For once, you will be remembered for something... For once, you shall have relevance. For once, Michael… You will matter,” he wounds.
A rather persistent medical technician insists upon tending to a laceration on Steven’s brow from its previous grinding against the relentless steel of the cage wall in his successful title defense. As he does so, Stevens is unfortunately forced to be unable to glare into the camera. Despite this, the Envoy of the End continues his diatribe. “I’m sure,” continues the Cowboy Killer. “Sure that by now you’ve learned enough about me and vice versa, to the point that we know that is no ordinary feat. I want to put you in the minds of every man, woman, child, or otherwise when they think of this sport… When they think of blood... Of violence. You should thank me next weekend, y’know, right before I break your fucking neck or kick your jaw clean through the back of your scalp. Thank me for… For making your name mean something. Forever, Maddox… You will be remembered for being the victim of the single bloodiest embodiment of pure... Unadulterated violence in the history of this sport.” This contorts Kai’s face into a smile as the medical attendant steps away to retrieve new bandages. Stevens turns his focus back to the camera with malice oozing from his every pore.
“Y’see, Maddox,” he furthers. “As I travel along the Path to Purity with my New Age Plague brethren, I’ve come to learn quite a bit about enjoying the little things in life. For years-- my whole career, in fact… I’ve had the compulsion... The inherent addiction to brutality. Baptized by fire, I was destined to return to it. I’ve known this all my life, Michael. But the past couple years, my unparalleled, meteoric ascent in this industry? It’s taught me a great number of things… And this coming weekend, I’m going to impart some of that very wisdom unto you-- by force. Y’see, Michael… I refuse to return to the fire alone. Which means that I will feed the flames first and foremost… I will fuel the flames with the souls of those who oppose me, who suicidally stand in my way. I will burn it all before I return to the inferno. You, Michael… You’re no more than mere cannon fodder. You’re insignificant without the cleansing of the fire… In essence, Michael… This coming weekend you are offered two choices. You either bend the knee and you BEG ME to grace you with Purification, with Conversion... Or I will rip out your fucking knees and then I will taste in your torment. I will bathe in your blood and purge myself of the disease festering beneath the surface of your skin, you piece of shit.” His sadistic grin spreads across his bearded face as a medical attendant use an alcohol swab to clear the blood from his cheeks and the majority of his face. She steps away and allows Kai to continue.
“And while you rot from the inside out,” elaborates the Envoy of the End. “While you prove to the world abroad that you are nothing more than mere filth... I will undoubtedly continue to prove to the world why I was not only ALPHA Wrestling’s Super of the Year, but continue to be the longest reigning Champion in the company’s history. And here I am, spending my time… Expending my violence... To someone as insignificant as you? Tell me, Michael… Does it keep you up at night? Wondering why I grace you with the attention my violence dictates?” Stevens cocks his head slightly to the side and lifts an eyebrow skyward. The discomfort from his wound on his brow forces him to grimace and then furrow said brow. Narrowing his eyes, he glares forebodingly into the camera. “Y’see, Maddox,” asserts the Aerial Arsonist. “Ever since day fucking one here in Divine Wrestling, I’ve acquired a taste for your blood. At first, I’ll admit that you were just the unluckiest motherfucker who ever lived-- a gory case of wrong place, wrong time. I used you as an example, an unwilling martyr for my cause-- the Greater Good. And in proving that it matters less to me to win than it does to me to brutalize... To mentally scar if they’re even physically capable of having thought any longer… To purge this industry of the filth sullying the sport, clinging to its underbelly like the leech poor excuses for men like him truly are. And since then, I’ve proven my worth as a competitor by striking gold. You, on the other hand? You made it pretty clear that just one time getting the shit stomped out of you and the dignity kicked through the back of your thick skull just… Wasn’t enough. Your arrogance, Maddox? It demands to be punished. Your justice will be served in the form of my BREAKING YOU THE FUCK IN HALF, YOU BOTTOM FUCKING BITCH!” His rage manifests physically, as veins bulge from his neck and temple.
He shakes his head contemptuously, narrowing his eyes as he does so. He runs a hand through his hair and finds even further traces of blood, yet to be cleaned. Chuckling lightly, the Inevitable continues, starting, “As I’ve already proved once before,” with a foreboding smirk. “I’m more than willing to risk my own opportunities, my own chances, my own career if it means I get to bleed someone dry. The Void demands blood, you motherfucker. And I have grown happy to supply it in the form of broken, beaten pissants like bottom feeding sons of bitches like you… Come Seasons Bleedings, I will honor the event’s namesake and cleanse myself in your arterial crimson as you burn at my feet… Because you bend the knee whether you like it or not, Maddox. You join me... Or I end you. And for your time to think? For your time with the illusion of free will, of hope? The end is nigh.” Stevens grins and shoves the camera away as the medical technicians return to working on the wound on his brow. As the scene fades to black, we are left with one question:
How much blood will be shed at Seasons Bleedings?
fin.
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