Post by Danjon no Unmei on Jun 4, 2019 21:09:13 GMT -5
“What, may I ask, is a Romeo Jackson?”
GRIM looks up from the tome of dark lore he was studying from to look over at his advisor, Esior the Necromancer. The masked mage wage looking over the list of GRIM’s matches for the J1 Summit and was shaking his head with obvious mirth.
“And that buffoon, Billy Danielson. Really? I handed him the reigns of one of the most destructive forces in all of professional wrestler and he squandered using him. That man could be ruling companies with an iron fist and instead he’s now allied himself with people who would turn at him at the drop of a hat.”
GRIM snorted, more because he was growing tired of hearing the Necromancer prattle on than out of any sort of agreement.
“Just more examples of why people from North America are inferior than we from Japan,” he answered, looking straight at Esior as if to emphasizing his statement.
Esior laughed the obvious insult off and looked back at the list.
“Naoki Ojima? How very interesting. I will take great delight watching you making that little boy squirm and cry out in agony. Let it be a warning to his meddlesome tag team partner, Red Tiger Kid. That young one thought he had ruined my plans, little does he realize it’s only delayed the inevitable!”
“And what exactly are your plans,” GRIM asked, closing the tome and standing to his feet, “You have been speaking of nothing but plans for a long time and yet nothing has come from them.”
“You just worry about winning some singles matches for a change,” Esior retorted, “is it any wonder why my monster was unable to complete his task when he’s been in the regular company as one such as you.”
“What is that supposed to mean,” GRIM growled.
“It means that for one who has long claimed himself superior to the western world you haven’t been able to live up to your claims. You were the least of the three original members of the Demon Brigade and are only their leader because they’ve both buggered off to their tombs, or something. Where is the mighty GRIM who fell the likes of Julian Cutlass and Alexander Irvine? Where is the GRIM who forced champions to change up their game so much because they knew that needed to something drastic to defeat you. When did that GRIM disappear and how did he become such a pathetic, little bitch?”
A roar escaped GRIM’s throat and before the Necromancer could flinch, the dark wizard of the Demon Brigade had his hands around his throat.
“I WILL RIP THAT TONGUE OF YOUR’S FROM YOUR MOUTH,” he roared.
GRIM couldn’t see it, but beneath his mask Esior was smiling. He eased GRIM’s hands from his throat with ease.
“And what will you do to Billy Danielson, my I ask?”
“I will make him suffer for everyone of his condescending comments he has ever made towards me,” GRIM growled, “Treating me like some sort of hired man to keep the beast in check. I will wipe that arrogant smile from his face and make him scream in pain! My poison will seep into his very soul and corrupt his flesh until he begs for death!”
“And what of this Romero Jackson?”
GRIM, still in the midst of his rage flipped over his desk.
“He wants to come into my house and behave like he owns it? I will snuff him out before his career ever has a chance to begin! History books will not feature his name and the world will forget that he ever existed. He will be little more than fodder for the worms in the ground and his eyes a snack for the crows!”
GRIM chuckled to himself. It was working and GRIM didn’t even realize it.
“And Ojimi…”
“I WILL TAKE GREAT JOY IN LISTENING TO HIM SCREAM,” GRIM yelled, “He is an insult to our people and needs to be ended once and for all. I will gouge out his eyes and tear the hair from his head. I will line his skull on my wall with those of Danielson and Jackson as trophies and as a warning to all those who would oppose my will!”
He spun to face Esior and pointed at him.
“All will fear me and tremble in my presence. Understood?”
Esior bowed low.
“Understood, my lord,” he said.
Esior smiled beneath his mask again. I’ve got him now!
GRIM looks up from the tome of dark lore he was studying from to look over at his advisor, Esior the Necromancer. The masked mage wage looking over the list of GRIM’s matches for the J1 Summit and was shaking his head with obvious mirth.
“And that buffoon, Billy Danielson. Really? I handed him the reigns of one of the most destructive forces in all of professional wrestler and he squandered using him. That man could be ruling companies with an iron fist and instead he’s now allied himself with people who would turn at him at the drop of a hat.”
GRIM snorted, more because he was growing tired of hearing the Necromancer prattle on than out of any sort of agreement.
“Just more examples of why people from North America are inferior than we from Japan,” he answered, looking straight at Esior as if to emphasizing his statement.
Esior laughed the obvious insult off and looked back at the list.
“Naoki Ojima? How very interesting. I will take great delight watching you making that little boy squirm and cry out in agony. Let it be a warning to his meddlesome tag team partner, Red Tiger Kid. That young one thought he had ruined my plans, little does he realize it’s only delayed the inevitable!”
“And what exactly are your plans,” GRIM asked, closing the tome and standing to his feet, “You have been speaking of nothing but plans for a long time and yet nothing has come from them.”
“You just worry about winning some singles matches for a change,” Esior retorted, “is it any wonder why my monster was unable to complete his task when he’s been in the regular company as one such as you.”
“What is that supposed to mean,” GRIM growled.
“It means that for one who has long claimed himself superior to the western world you haven’t been able to live up to your claims. You were the least of the three original members of the Demon Brigade and are only their leader because they’ve both buggered off to their tombs, or something. Where is the mighty GRIM who fell the likes of Julian Cutlass and Alexander Irvine? Where is the GRIM who forced champions to change up their game so much because they knew that needed to something drastic to defeat you. When did that GRIM disappear and how did he become such a pathetic, little bitch?”
A roar escaped GRIM’s throat and before the Necromancer could flinch, the dark wizard of the Demon Brigade had his hands around his throat.
“I WILL RIP THAT TONGUE OF YOUR’S FROM YOUR MOUTH,” he roared.
GRIM couldn’t see it, but beneath his mask Esior was smiling. He eased GRIM’s hands from his throat with ease.
“And what will you do to Billy Danielson, my I ask?”
“I will make him suffer for everyone of his condescending comments he has ever made towards me,” GRIM growled, “Treating me like some sort of hired man to keep the beast in check. I will wipe that arrogant smile from his face and make him scream in pain! My poison will seep into his very soul and corrupt his flesh until he begs for death!”
“And what of this Romero Jackson?”
GRIM, still in the midst of his rage flipped over his desk.
“He wants to come into my house and behave like he owns it? I will snuff him out before his career ever has a chance to begin! History books will not feature his name and the world will forget that he ever existed. He will be little more than fodder for the worms in the ground and his eyes a snack for the crows!”
GRIM chuckled to himself. It was working and GRIM didn’t even realize it.
“And Ojimi…”
“I WILL TAKE GREAT JOY IN LISTENING TO HIM SCREAM,” GRIM yelled, “He is an insult to our people and needs to be ended once and for all. I will gouge out his eyes and tear the hair from his head. I will line his skull on my wall with those of Danielson and Jackson as trophies and as a warning to all those who would oppose my will!”
He spun to face Esior and pointed at him.
“All will fear me and tremble in my presence. Understood?”
Esior bowed low.
“Understood, my lord,” he said.
Esior smiled beneath his mask again. I’ve got him now!