As the scene fades in we see Bad Luck Fale , his trademark Balor club t-shirt on underneath his leather jacket as his sunglasses sit shielding his eyes from both the sun and the cold wind. He walks down a gravel path as the sound of rocks crunching underneath every step he takes crackle with his brisk pace. The green grass on either side slowly dying meeting the same seasonal fate as the leaves on the branches have already done. The branches hang over the path that Bad Luck Fale walks as he takes a deep breath.
Bad Luck Fale You’ve been led astray for too long, EBWF. Left to the devices of these... Incompetents, Who aren’t fit to bear the mantle of greatness in this sport
He closes his eyes for a moment and takes another deep breath, his chest and shoulders noticeably in movement as he continues walking down the gravel path
Bad Luck Fale CM Punk your stay here in the EBWF has been perpetrated on by these limp-wristed wastes of time for far too long. It’s time for all that to change. It is time for a new standard of excellence in the EBWF. It is time for this business to be reinvigorated by the man who was meant to run it from birth. You see my infatuation with you is less one man worshipping the unattainable woman of his dreams and more a savage smelling the sweet scent of a victim who knows what’s coming and has no chance of preventing the impending doom. A beast that comes eye to eye with his prey takes in the scent of the fear and vulnerability of his victim. You’re my infatuation Punk, my current obsession. Will I move on from it, possibly? Will that happen after our first encounter, I highly and hopefully doubt it
As Bad Luck Fale continues to walk he takes a moment to appreciate the cold, brisk wind of night blowing into his face. The world is changing along with the tides of the EBWF , as Bad Luck Fale walks the earth the environment around him has clearly taken notice
Bad Luck Fale Your proclaimed knowledge of me is now an obsession which has become an obsession within itself. This business. This world. It’s my blood. It’s my birthright. I was built for this. No one. Not a single man or woman walking this planet, can stand up to me when it comes to these four ropes. Some men are meant to serve, to scrape, grovel, and claw at the dirt...common street trash. Good for menial labor...But nothing to aspire to. Other men are meant for more. True greatness is to grind out the lesser men who carve their names into the mountains
Bad Luck Fale stops his walking, turns to the camera on his right that has kept pace with him the entire time. With his right hand he lowers his sunglasses and winks before holding his arms out to the side
Bad Luck Fale Here I am. My ritual has worked and you have grown fond of Bad Luck Fale
He returns his sunglasses to the proper position on his face and a devious smile grows. A small, yet audible, laugh emerges from his mouth. He knows the words coming from his mouth are backed with truth. Fact is, he’s told Punk everything he wants to hear while being one of the only members of this roster that has promised him an unfortunate demise with merit to back it.
Bad Luck Fale When you say that our encounter will be just like my fantasies of winning and becoming king I have to only assume that you mean the ones I have of me holding your face. We’re in the middle of the ring. The crowd has nearly exhausted their voices in conflicting chants of support for each of us. Instead of your telling of the story I’m actually the one on top. You’ve been momentarily stunned physically on your back. You try to shake the cobwebs but can’t before I drop to one knee straddling your body. My hands tremble in anticipation as I reach down and they approach your face. I gently take you by your head, noticing the sweat that’s built up in it yet appreciating its context. My hands then grasp down, controlling as many individual strands as it can. You’ve finally shaken the cobwebs and as your eyes open that lock with mine…
He stops again, with his hands motioning out the actions he’s previously stated. He looks down at his hands; they gently tremble as he clinches his fists.
Bad Luck FaleIn that moment you’re unsure of your future, your health, and your life. I pull your head and face closer to mine so we nearly meet nose to nose. I can feel your rapid breath against my cheeks as your chest expands as you inhale. Trying to get the most of each breath, and in this moment I see your vulnerability. You’re not the tough CM Punk who beat Raven I have heard so much about. You’re Phil Brooks. A man, a son and most importantly a victim. I stare deep into your eyes and past your pupils directly into your soul and we connect. Albeit brief there is a moment where it’s not Bad Luck Fale versus CM Punk, it’s us. Both of our inner struggles connected and intertwined. My hands loosen for a moment in a slight tease of compassion, but swiftly they regain a grip unrivaled from the first as I viciously extend my hands and arms and smash the back of your skull into the canvas. Your dazed, confused and look to me in disbelief as I bring you close to me again. Your vision slightly blurred from the direct impact but you have no moment to comprehend it as I repeat this movement and attempt to break you open like a pirate with a treasure chest and no key. Your brain sloshes around in your head as your hands reach out in desperation and grab my cheeks. Your grip slightly less than full strength due to the duration of the match. You cry out in pain and fear as I repeat this over and over again…
He’s miming the motion of smashing Punk’s head into the canvas of the ring. He bites down gritting his teeth as every word is said with more vigor than the last.
Bad Luck Fale Your nails dig into the skin on my face and you break skin. Hoping at any second I’ll stop and release the hold. Perhaps the agony is near its end, but as it does you suddenly can’t hear the crowd’s chants. They’ve dimmed to a shock and awe. Your vision, still blurred begins to tighten in a tunnel as the world around you goes black and the last thing you see is my face.
Bad Luck Fale shakes his arms and shudders almost as if the cold wind has given him a chill, but it hasn’t. Instead he’s worked himself up into a stupor and his clear excitement is showing through. He looks into the camera as he rubs his chin.
Bad Luck Fale I have a look of both concern and satisfaction as you fade out of consciousness and only then will you believe in the Devil. You were right though, Warfare sure is going to be interesting and our match will steal the show. Perhaps later, hours after the match someone will tell you all about it. Maybe you can watch it back on the Internet as the video of your demise goes viral and children make memes and gifs or whatever the fuck they are called of what I’ve done. You can read the play by play-on EBWF.net. My lust, much like the adoration that my favorite movie monster had, will turn abhorrently violent by no fault of my own. Mother nature does not question the actions of the predator in the hunt, and no man can be blamed for his actions once he’s been challenged. I must fight for survival, and the establishment of my EBWF kingdom. You don’t have to be a rung on my ladder that leads to the top of this company. I offer you solace in my remembrance of our moment together.
Bad Luck Fale turns from the camera and continues down the path, the familiar sound of this scene of the gravel under his shoes heard again. He can almost taste it, nearly smell it. The pheromone release he spoke of and the victory he has assured. It’s nearly in his grasp.
Bad Luck Fale Our familiar pasts and journeys were probably always meant to meet. Why else would we have been in the same company? Our destinies, if you believe in such a thing, have chosen to go perpendicular in an effort for us to meet. You may not have always been CM Punk, but I’ve always been this demon. My religion is a belief within myself; Satan is merely a symbol for how I choose to live my life. Indulgence. Binging upon the things I want until I’ve determined that I’ve had enough. Becoming the king of not only this company, but this business through means that most will not dive to.
The camera remains tight on Bad Luck Fale as the sound of the gravel underneath is feet has gone silent. We can see that the path has turned to weathered red brick with weeds growing between the weakened cement. The path has also taken on a slight incline, each of Fale’s steps taken a little more emphatically.
Bad Luck Fale Or perhaps, for the sake of this little game you do win Phil. You over power me and apply your will. Pin my shoulders to the mat. What then? You’ll wave your little fingers and move on to the next? No. You won’t. You won’t let yourself move on. In the end my obsession over you halting Raven’s journey to become King of the Ring has led me to the throne. Whether I win or not Phil, you and I. We aren’t through. Not now, and not until I say so.
The camera pulls back as Bad Luck Fale turns completely around, his back now to the landscape behind him. The shot widens to show a dilapidated castle. It’s half of what it used to be. The stairs have fallen apart and it sits in the middle of a national park. Children, Dogs, and couples sit in the grass in front of it. They play unknowing that where they currently are once the scene of heinous crimes against humanity.
Bad Luck Fale Right there, where that little girl throws a Frisbee to her dog as her father laughs along…. many Kings were executed for reasons beyond knowledge of most. Our story will draw near comparisons but the differences will strain it from being something used as a modern day love story – you’re right about that.
He walks backwards towards, each step he approaches the castle behind him. The closer we get to it we can see it’s weathered stone matches the wear and tear of the path before it. Fale takes his sunglasses and extends his arms, motioning to the dead trees around him. His voice rises in decibel
Bad Luck Fale Can you imagine the stories these trees could tell, if only they were given the time. They’d speak the truths of so many things that they’ve seen for centuries. Lovers scorned, a King gone mad. Generations of families before modern day and the secrets they took to their death. Imagine these trees were humans, human beings who paid to watch the Kings slaughter. Imagine they had the mouths and were given the time to speak of the horrors they saw. The blood slain and the souls lost. Imagine this castle, where the lovers lay slain, was a EBWF ring. The trees would speak of awful things after Warfare, Punk whether I achieve a victory or not. I will leave my mark, and I’ll live in your head to forever remind you….
He stops for a moment, the castle behind him. A hole in the wall, presumably where a window would have been centuries ago, is nearest him. Fale’s approach is swift; using both hands he hops up and quickly gets to his feet. Taking his sunglasses off for no reason other than simply winking into the camera, be then clears his throat before bellowing out for those of the park and all of the world to know
Bad Luck Fale I AM THE FUCKING DEVIL. AND I. AM. REAL.
Jumping down from the window he slides his sunglasses on and walks up towards the camera. He stops, his face the only visible thing in front of the lens. He breathes in, a long inhale that seemed to never end. Then exhaling audibly with a slight moan.
Bad Luck Fale You see Punk, Raven was suppose to be the King of The Ring, and you ruined that…I can’t let that go unpunished...QUOTE RAVEN’s KING OF VIOLENCE NEVERMORE....
Fale moves his head forward into the lens leaving little light peaking through the outside. Soon it’s all black, and the scene fades