Post by adm on Aug 19, 2008 22:11:59 GMT -6
“All hope abandon, ye who enter.”
Darkness. The black swirls and engulfs everything. Nothing escapes it. Not even sound. Like a black hole, it is a vortex that sucks all form of matter and life close to it within and crushes it to a quantum singularity. It sucks away all happiness, love, joy…and only leaves behind death and destruction.
Pain. The endless pain of being crushed to death by the weight of the air around you. It feels like a five hundred pound man is standing on your chest. Your heart seizes up, having trouble beating under such immense pressure. In this room, in this void, it is easy to die.
Nothingness. Surrounding and devouring. Nothingness is all that can be seen, all that can be felt, heard, smelled or tasted. There’s nothing to fear in here, as nothing exists within this black void. Not even the boogeyman dare enter this place.
Burning. You feel the heat of Hell’s flames surround you. The thick air turns to fire, and illuminates everything with a blinding orange light. The fire engulfs and burns. There is unlimited supply of burnable oxygen and hydrogen here. The air is as flammable as gasoline, and the fire tastes as gas smells. Death devours all within the flames, and nothing can escape.
“Turn the wheel of time, and all will be forgiven. Nothing can be abandoned without losing hope. Taking away all things from this world by throwing one piece of trash away. As Pandora unleashed all the evils upon the world she left only Hope in the box. But that dim light has grown even dimmer. The world is in shambles. Corrupt politicians control every city and state in the known world. The world is slowly watching the chips fall to the floor. And when the chips are down, this world will devour itself and tear everything we know to shreds. All it takes is one wrong button push and this horrible excuse we know as existence on Earth will be quickly exterminated with the detonation of hundreds of nuclear warheads. Trivial, it may seem; our life in this moment in time. Only in hindsight will we truly be able to know our folly. The darkness that consumes the air around me spreads beyond this place, this room within my head. As he grows stronger, the world begins to take the form of his “reality”, not just for me, but for everything and everyone around me. And Xander speaks of cold, unequivocal hatred and inability to feel emotions. But he should realize, the only emotion Angelo Della Muerte, one of my other selves, feels…is the joy of the slaughter. And that joy will be fed at Battle Grounds. But I am not done with this scenery yet, Xander.”
Fate’s voice comes out of the flames that emerged from the nothingness. Inside this place, his voice travels as if it were miles between him and the camera, but the travel does nothing to distill the veracity and volume of his words. Here, where not a single thing grows but flame. Here, where you must abandon all hope to enter. Here, where the Gates of Hell and the Gates of Heaven meet. Here, where the line between reality and unreality is so blurred, you cannot tell one from the other.
“All hope, abandon, ye who enter. Those are the words written, in Dante’s Inferno, above the door to Hell. But this isn’t Hell…not yet. This is closer to the darkest portions of Purgatory than Hell, but soon things will change. You see, madness is what has brought us both to this place. Madness for me from my other selves. Madness for you, from the persecuting voice of your legendary father. He hates you, and you hate him. But even though you hate, you respect. But for you, there shouldn’t be respect, not until you earn it. You’ve been here a few short weeks, but you have yet to show us why we should respect you. You’ve never faced anyone of importance, not yet. You have yet to do battle with the big names. You are a rookie, but there is indeed potential for growth. But you must Abandon all the things you know to even HOPE to be half the man you could be. You must Abandon all your ego, all your hatred, and check it at the door because no matter how much you say it helps you, it is only a burden. When you step into the ring, you should shed everything, strip to the bone. The only thing you carry into that ring is your body; you leave everything else on the apron. When you leave the ring, you can put them back on, if you so wish. Only men like your father and my mentor, Dark Prophet, could teach these lessons to men like us. You stand at the door to a career that could be legendary, perhaps even greater than your father’s. But as you look through the door, you must not fear what you see. You must not fear the darkness, the void, the crushing weight of the air. You must step forward, and shed your very life from your mortal corpse before you can truly understand the whims of this world. You have to die before you can live. And you must live in order to die. The paradox wrapped within the enigma, and the enigma thus creates the paradox. Everything is nothing and nothing is EVERYTHING. Reality is not what you see, hear, touch, feel, taste, or smell. Reality is what you make it. You can call me an Angel, a Demon; God or Lucifer; whichever you like. I am what you perceive me to be. And you are only what I perceive you to be. And nothing can change that.”
The fire subsides, and darkness resumes. The weight of the air has lightened; the fire cleansed the air of its heaviness. But cleansing the air of the heaviness hasn’t cleansed it of the stench of gasoline.
Light. Like a streak of lightning, it flashes for but a moment. It flashes again, like a lightbulb burning out as soon as it turns on. Again, it comes and goes in a flash. Bright as the mid-day sun, and as warm against our skin as desert heat. The light finally fully turns on, and we realize we are in a vacant hospital. Long this place has not held a living patient. Long since the doctors abandoned it and left it behind. There’s nothing but cobwebs, but the green-tinged fluorescent lights still work as good as they day they were installed. Fate is nowhere to be found in this corridor, but we hear the demented chuckles of the one known as Angelo Della Muerte behind us. We turn, but the hall on the other side is just as empty. Where is the sound coming from? The laugh fades, and comes back loud. It is as if the laugh comes from all sides, maddening the air with the venomous cackles of something that should not be. We rush through the doors, to the next hall, still no Fate, or whoever he is at this moment. The cackles continue, and we rush to the elevators, but they don’t seem to be operating. The stairwell, the cackles is coming from downstairs, it seems. As soon as we get to the stairs, the laugh is coming from upstairs, then downstairs, then behind us again. We turn, and there he is. Fate…or Angelo Della Muerte, standing at the other end of the hall with that twisted maniacal smile upon his face.
“Welcome to the abandoned hospital we will be staying in today, Xavier. You see, you train in a rusty, dingy, crappy gym like WE were trained in. But I have learned that within a hospital you can find things that could be improvised weight training pieces. Stuff a body bag full of napkins and toilet paper and hang it from the padded cell’s roof. Pile the carts full of heavy medical equipment and lift them high above your head. Use the EKG machines as improvisional weights as you do squats, sit-ups, and whatever else you feel like using them for. And of course, when you are done, you can always help stimulate a bit of muscle healing with everything in the physical therapy areas of the hospital. I’m amazed they would just up and leave everything behind, but then again, this equipment is not new, it’s as old as this hospital. It’s been almost 20 years since someone was housed here, and God only knows why they left the building standing. There are but a handful of these so-called “haunted hospitals” in the United States. But it isn’t TRULY haunted, at least not with the small amount of corpses fed through this place. It being closed is more the result of the city being abandoned, it is a ghost town. A place that was built up around one specific thing the area was good for, and when that dried up, they couldn’t get the land to do anything else. Coal, Gold, Oil…even some farmland has done this to so many places in this country, and few really care to try and go back to these places. The first and second floor, along with the basement, has a lot of vegetation growing now, and some of it is crawling through the cracks and air ducts to the other floors. There’s nothing here that you could call haunted, not a ghost, corpse, suicide…nothing. It was just a regular hospital in a Podunk **** town that lost the one thing they were there for. Xander, there’s nothing to be afraid of here, but I just like the location. It’s empty, and it’s different. I hate being boring, I truly do hate it.”
He takes a step toward the camera, and we take a step back. His smile turns into a wider smirk as his head tilts to the side.
“Oooh, you are afraid of me, cameraman? Are you afraid I’m going to kill you? Are you afraid I’m going to pull your skull out of your body and beat you to the death with it while you scream “This isn’t physically possible!”? Seriously, I’d never do that to you; at least not as long as you have videotape to confirm I did it. I’m not a complete idiot; I know what will and won’t get Fate fired from this place. I can’t **** corpses. I can’t send people pieces of dead people, or dead animals. I can receive such gifts, I guess, but even that is stepping on the line of what is and isn’t appropriate here. You can get fired for just a TASTE of what I’ve done before. There’s no real FUN here, except in the ring, decimating people and watching them scream in pain. It is so BORING, so ORDINARY…we need to create some chaos, or at least bend the lines of reality enough to scare the living hell out of you people. Not that my reputation hasn’t preceded itself. You know what Fate…correction…what I have done. You know what Angelo Della Muerte can do to this world. You know that I could turn reality on its head and make everything around me turn to the truth that you people have hid since you were cast out of Eden. You speak of myths and legends used to scare people, but you fail to realize you and the world is scared to see what things truly look like around here. Your reality is not as objective as you think it is, it’s more of a subjective thing. The crazy homeless on the corners of the city streets who cry out about seeing a totally different, darker, world are seeing the truth. A truth that drives their fragile minds over the edge. It’s the funny thing about Madness; it’s so easy to just tip someone over the edge. For some people, just a bad day at work can cause them to come home and slaughter their family. Or maybe abuse of steroids and drugs complicated by neck and head injuries. It’s so simple to make someone crack, but the hardest thing is to show just enough of the truth, in small enough doses, that people get used to it. You probably wonder where “Fate” is, aren’t you? You are probably wondering why I am here. Why it isn’t Fate, or that retard Jaques. No…they aren’t dead. Just…disposed of, for now. The funny thing about that place Fate keeps hearing about, Dwayberry, is that it does exist. It exists on the borders of reality and unreality. It exists on that thin line between the lie you tell yourselves every day and the truth I want you to see. It is a place that fell off both the map of TRUE reality and the map of YOUR reality at the same time. It is plunged into a thick fog of untruth to both worlds. In essence, it is its own world. No entrance, no road in…no escape. Just like Battle Grounds. There is no real ROAD there, there is no ENTRANCE, it is what it is. There is no escaping Battle Grounds. It will happen. But I’m not going to go and say I’ll win, or that I’ll cripple your ass, because I know you are indeed quite a bit larger than WE are. Fate’s body is smaller than it once was. You probably know about his struggles with drug addiction, trying to kill me using heroin and cocaine. He failed miserably with those drugs, and he fails miserably with these prescriptions he’s got. Soon he’ll lose all hope in curing himself of me and finally cave to the truth. Soon he’ll see what he’s hidden from himself for eight long years. But we won’t get into that tonight…no…what we must get into is the details as to why Battle Grounds will be the first time you truly step into the ring.”
Angelo takes another step toward the camera, and we move back again. Looking behind us, we realize we are getting very close to the stairs. One wrong step backwards and we’ll be tumbling down them and likely be seriously hurt.
“There’s a lot of things you “know” Xander. You know a lot about mythology, about the Moirae, about Dante’s Inferno and such. You probably also recognize the line “All hope abandon, ye who enter.” But the thing is, that line applies so much to the “real world” as it were. To abandon hope is to shed ones self of their ego, to strip their soul away at the door and get their ticket as they turn it into the coat check. Naked is how man is born into this world, and it is that way for a reason. Babies are not blameless or lacking of sin, no…they are very selfish creatures. But they are also very simple. They rely on their simplest of wants and needs. Food, warmth, affection; they look to their parents, or whomever is just there, for what they want and need. But because they can’t speak, because their minds have yet to realize their selfish ways or create their sense of self and ego, they are a perfect slate to create an entire life upon. You may think it is free will, or you may think life is predetermined. Pick whichever you like and you’ll know what is right after you’re dead. Am I a God or the Devil? Whichever you want me to be, is what you will convince yourself I am. There is no good, no evil; those are just relative to who you speak to. To Hitler, he was the good guy. To Stalin, he was the good guy. To Caesar, he was the good guy. Your mind creates good and evil to suit whoever you are. Some people who are serial killers see someone they hate in their victims, usually their mother or abusive father. You could say the same thing for people who commit murder and claim they were in the right. Some may even go so far to say the “people” they killed weren’t even people; they were demons, monsters, etc. Reality is only as real as you want it to be. Look into the mirror long enough and you’ll see it isn’t as objective as you think. Look long enough and you’ll see your reflection change, sometimes slightly, sometimes a bit more violently. Say your own name for long enough in a row and the name becomes foreign, and you lose sense of yourself for a short period of time. “Reality” is perception. You perceive yourself to be the son of a legend. You perceive yourself to be a cold, emotionless creature. You perceive yourself to act only out of pure hatred. You act like you are Neutral Evil. But don’t fool yourself, Xander. You aren’t emotionless. Slap your hand hard enough against a wall and you’ll feel pain. Pain is an emotion as much as it is a physical injury. If you can still feel pain, if you can still bleed, you have emotion. From the first heartbeat in the womb to the last heartbeat before you die, you have emotion. And at Battle Grounds I will show you exactly what emotions you can feel. I will show you that you can bleed, that you can feel pain. You will also see that my body may bleed and feel pain, but there is something else here, something that you do not understand, and probably never will. But you will, for a single moment, understand the fact that after all is said and done, Angelo Della Muerte is a force you should not **** with. Enter the ring at Battle Grounds. Enter, and Abandon all hope.”
Angelo quickly runs toward the cameraman, who promptly falls backwards down the stairs. The camera flies out of his hand and smashes against the first wall it hits, and the transmission ends in static.
Darkness. The black swirls and engulfs everything. Nothing escapes it. Not even sound. Like a black hole, it is a vortex that sucks all form of matter and life close to it within and crushes it to a quantum singularity. It sucks away all happiness, love, joy…and only leaves behind death and destruction.
Pain. The endless pain of being crushed to death by the weight of the air around you. It feels like a five hundred pound man is standing on your chest. Your heart seizes up, having trouble beating under such immense pressure. In this room, in this void, it is easy to die.
Nothingness. Surrounding and devouring. Nothingness is all that can be seen, all that can be felt, heard, smelled or tasted. There’s nothing to fear in here, as nothing exists within this black void. Not even the boogeyman dare enter this place.
Burning. You feel the heat of Hell’s flames surround you. The thick air turns to fire, and illuminates everything with a blinding orange light. The fire engulfs and burns. There is unlimited supply of burnable oxygen and hydrogen here. The air is as flammable as gasoline, and the fire tastes as gas smells. Death devours all within the flames, and nothing can escape.
“Turn the wheel of time, and all will be forgiven. Nothing can be abandoned without losing hope. Taking away all things from this world by throwing one piece of trash away. As Pandora unleashed all the evils upon the world she left only Hope in the box. But that dim light has grown even dimmer. The world is in shambles. Corrupt politicians control every city and state in the known world. The world is slowly watching the chips fall to the floor. And when the chips are down, this world will devour itself and tear everything we know to shreds. All it takes is one wrong button push and this horrible excuse we know as existence on Earth will be quickly exterminated with the detonation of hundreds of nuclear warheads. Trivial, it may seem; our life in this moment in time. Only in hindsight will we truly be able to know our folly. The darkness that consumes the air around me spreads beyond this place, this room within my head. As he grows stronger, the world begins to take the form of his “reality”, not just for me, but for everything and everyone around me. And Xander speaks of cold, unequivocal hatred and inability to feel emotions. But he should realize, the only emotion Angelo Della Muerte, one of my other selves, feels…is the joy of the slaughter. And that joy will be fed at Battle Grounds. But I am not done with this scenery yet, Xander.”
Fate’s voice comes out of the flames that emerged from the nothingness. Inside this place, his voice travels as if it were miles between him and the camera, but the travel does nothing to distill the veracity and volume of his words. Here, where not a single thing grows but flame. Here, where you must abandon all hope to enter. Here, where the Gates of Hell and the Gates of Heaven meet. Here, where the line between reality and unreality is so blurred, you cannot tell one from the other.
“All hope, abandon, ye who enter. Those are the words written, in Dante’s Inferno, above the door to Hell. But this isn’t Hell…not yet. This is closer to the darkest portions of Purgatory than Hell, but soon things will change. You see, madness is what has brought us both to this place. Madness for me from my other selves. Madness for you, from the persecuting voice of your legendary father. He hates you, and you hate him. But even though you hate, you respect. But for you, there shouldn’t be respect, not until you earn it. You’ve been here a few short weeks, but you have yet to show us why we should respect you. You’ve never faced anyone of importance, not yet. You have yet to do battle with the big names. You are a rookie, but there is indeed potential for growth. But you must Abandon all the things you know to even HOPE to be half the man you could be. You must Abandon all your ego, all your hatred, and check it at the door because no matter how much you say it helps you, it is only a burden. When you step into the ring, you should shed everything, strip to the bone. The only thing you carry into that ring is your body; you leave everything else on the apron. When you leave the ring, you can put them back on, if you so wish. Only men like your father and my mentor, Dark Prophet, could teach these lessons to men like us. You stand at the door to a career that could be legendary, perhaps even greater than your father’s. But as you look through the door, you must not fear what you see. You must not fear the darkness, the void, the crushing weight of the air. You must step forward, and shed your very life from your mortal corpse before you can truly understand the whims of this world. You have to die before you can live. And you must live in order to die. The paradox wrapped within the enigma, and the enigma thus creates the paradox. Everything is nothing and nothing is EVERYTHING. Reality is not what you see, hear, touch, feel, taste, or smell. Reality is what you make it. You can call me an Angel, a Demon; God or Lucifer; whichever you like. I am what you perceive me to be. And you are only what I perceive you to be. And nothing can change that.”
The fire subsides, and darkness resumes. The weight of the air has lightened; the fire cleansed the air of its heaviness. But cleansing the air of the heaviness hasn’t cleansed it of the stench of gasoline.
Light. Like a streak of lightning, it flashes for but a moment. It flashes again, like a lightbulb burning out as soon as it turns on. Again, it comes and goes in a flash. Bright as the mid-day sun, and as warm against our skin as desert heat. The light finally fully turns on, and we realize we are in a vacant hospital. Long this place has not held a living patient. Long since the doctors abandoned it and left it behind. There’s nothing but cobwebs, but the green-tinged fluorescent lights still work as good as they day they were installed. Fate is nowhere to be found in this corridor, but we hear the demented chuckles of the one known as Angelo Della Muerte behind us. We turn, but the hall on the other side is just as empty. Where is the sound coming from? The laugh fades, and comes back loud. It is as if the laugh comes from all sides, maddening the air with the venomous cackles of something that should not be. We rush through the doors, to the next hall, still no Fate, or whoever he is at this moment. The cackles continue, and we rush to the elevators, but they don’t seem to be operating. The stairwell, the cackles is coming from downstairs, it seems. As soon as we get to the stairs, the laugh is coming from upstairs, then downstairs, then behind us again. We turn, and there he is. Fate…or Angelo Della Muerte, standing at the other end of the hall with that twisted maniacal smile upon his face.
“Welcome to the abandoned hospital we will be staying in today, Xavier. You see, you train in a rusty, dingy, crappy gym like WE were trained in. But I have learned that within a hospital you can find things that could be improvised weight training pieces. Stuff a body bag full of napkins and toilet paper and hang it from the padded cell’s roof. Pile the carts full of heavy medical equipment and lift them high above your head. Use the EKG machines as improvisional weights as you do squats, sit-ups, and whatever else you feel like using them for. And of course, when you are done, you can always help stimulate a bit of muscle healing with everything in the physical therapy areas of the hospital. I’m amazed they would just up and leave everything behind, but then again, this equipment is not new, it’s as old as this hospital. It’s been almost 20 years since someone was housed here, and God only knows why they left the building standing. There are but a handful of these so-called “haunted hospitals” in the United States. But it isn’t TRULY haunted, at least not with the small amount of corpses fed through this place. It being closed is more the result of the city being abandoned, it is a ghost town. A place that was built up around one specific thing the area was good for, and when that dried up, they couldn’t get the land to do anything else. Coal, Gold, Oil…even some farmland has done this to so many places in this country, and few really care to try and go back to these places. The first and second floor, along with the basement, has a lot of vegetation growing now, and some of it is crawling through the cracks and air ducts to the other floors. There’s nothing here that you could call haunted, not a ghost, corpse, suicide…nothing. It was just a regular hospital in a Podunk **** town that lost the one thing they were there for. Xander, there’s nothing to be afraid of here, but I just like the location. It’s empty, and it’s different. I hate being boring, I truly do hate it.”
He takes a step toward the camera, and we take a step back. His smile turns into a wider smirk as his head tilts to the side.
“Oooh, you are afraid of me, cameraman? Are you afraid I’m going to kill you? Are you afraid I’m going to pull your skull out of your body and beat you to the death with it while you scream “This isn’t physically possible!”? Seriously, I’d never do that to you; at least not as long as you have videotape to confirm I did it. I’m not a complete idiot; I know what will and won’t get Fate fired from this place. I can’t **** corpses. I can’t send people pieces of dead people, or dead animals. I can receive such gifts, I guess, but even that is stepping on the line of what is and isn’t appropriate here. You can get fired for just a TASTE of what I’ve done before. There’s no real FUN here, except in the ring, decimating people and watching them scream in pain. It is so BORING, so ORDINARY…we need to create some chaos, or at least bend the lines of reality enough to scare the living hell out of you people. Not that my reputation hasn’t preceded itself. You know what Fate…correction…what I have done. You know what Angelo Della Muerte can do to this world. You know that I could turn reality on its head and make everything around me turn to the truth that you people have hid since you were cast out of Eden. You speak of myths and legends used to scare people, but you fail to realize you and the world is scared to see what things truly look like around here. Your reality is not as objective as you think it is, it’s more of a subjective thing. The crazy homeless on the corners of the city streets who cry out about seeing a totally different, darker, world are seeing the truth. A truth that drives their fragile minds over the edge. It’s the funny thing about Madness; it’s so easy to just tip someone over the edge. For some people, just a bad day at work can cause them to come home and slaughter their family. Or maybe abuse of steroids and drugs complicated by neck and head injuries. It’s so simple to make someone crack, but the hardest thing is to show just enough of the truth, in small enough doses, that people get used to it. You probably wonder where “Fate” is, aren’t you? You are probably wondering why I am here. Why it isn’t Fate, or that retard Jaques. No…they aren’t dead. Just…disposed of, for now. The funny thing about that place Fate keeps hearing about, Dwayberry, is that it does exist. It exists on the borders of reality and unreality. It exists on that thin line between the lie you tell yourselves every day and the truth I want you to see. It is a place that fell off both the map of TRUE reality and the map of YOUR reality at the same time. It is plunged into a thick fog of untruth to both worlds. In essence, it is its own world. No entrance, no road in…no escape. Just like Battle Grounds. There is no real ROAD there, there is no ENTRANCE, it is what it is. There is no escaping Battle Grounds. It will happen. But I’m not going to go and say I’ll win, or that I’ll cripple your ass, because I know you are indeed quite a bit larger than WE are. Fate’s body is smaller than it once was. You probably know about his struggles with drug addiction, trying to kill me using heroin and cocaine. He failed miserably with those drugs, and he fails miserably with these prescriptions he’s got. Soon he’ll lose all hope in curing himself of me and finally cave to the truth. Soon he’ll see what he’s hidden from himself for eight long years. But we won’t get into that tonight…no…what we must get into is the details as to why Battle Grounds will be the first time you truly step into the ring.”
Angelo takes another step toward the camera, and we move back again. Looking behind us, we realize we are getting very close to the stairs. One wrong step backwards and we’ll be tumbling down them and likely be seriously hurt.
“There’s a lot of things you “know” Xander. You know a lot about mythology, about the Moirae, about Dante’s Inferno and such. You probably also recognize the line “All hope abandon, ye who enter.” But the thing is, that line applies so much to the “real world” as it were. To abandon hope is to shed ones self of their ego, to strip their soul away at the door and get their ticket as they turn it into the coat check. Naked is how man is born into this world, and it is that way for a reason. Babies are not blameless or lacking of sin, no…they are very selfish creatures. But they are also very simple. They rely on their simplest of wants and needs. Food, warmth, affection; they look to their parents, or whomever is just there, for what they want and need. But because they can’t speak, because their minds have yet to realize their selfish ways or create their sense of self and ego, they are a perfect slate to create an entire life upon. You may think it is free will, or you may think life is predetermined. Pick whichever you like and you’ll know what is right after you’re dead. Am I a God or the Devil? Whichever you want me to be, is what you will convince yourself I am. There is no good, no evil; those are just relative to who you speak to. To Hitler, he was the good guy. To Stalin, he was the good guy. To Caesar, he was the good guy. Your mind creates good and evil to suit whoever you are. Some people who are serial killers see someone they hate in their victims, usually their mother or abusive father. You could say the same thing for people who commit murder and claim they were in the right. Some may even go so far to say the “people” they killed weren’t even people; they were demons, monsters, etc. Reality is only as real as you want it to be. Look into the mirror long enough and you’ll see it isn’t as objective as you think. Look long enough and you’ll see your reflection change, sometimes slightly, sometimes a bit more violently. Say your own name for long enough in a row and the name becomes foreign, and you lose sense of yourself for a short period of time. “Reality” is perception. You perceive yourself to be the son of a legend. You perceive yourself to be a cold, emotionless creature. You perceive yourself to act only out of pure hatred. You act like you are Neutral Evil. But don’t fool yourself, Xander. You aren’t emotionless. Slap your hand hard enough against a wall and you’ll feel pain. Pain is an emotion as much as it is a physical injury. If you can still feel pain, if you can still bleed, you have emotion. From the first heartbeat in the womb to the last heartbeat before you die, you have emotion. And at Battle Grounds I will show you exactly what emotions you can feel. I will show you that you can bleed, that you can feel pain. You will also see that my body may bleed and feel pain, but there is something else here, something that you do not understand, and probably never will. But you will, for a single moment, understand the fact that after all is said and done, Angelo Della Muerte is a force you should not **** with. Enter the ring at Battle Grounds. Enter, and Abandon all hope.”
Angelo quickly runs toward the cameraman, who promptly falls backwards down the stairs. The camera flies out of his hand and smashes against the first wall it hits, and the transmission ends in static.