PROMO: One last loose end

[Guest Thoth]

“Are the preparations ready, my Lord?” The acolyte bows to his master, addressing him.

 

“Yes,” comes the cold and emotionless reply. The acolyte leaves, and the master waits... soon, several hundred robed men and women pour into the huge meeting room, A flame pours forth from a large cauldron which stands at the foot of a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs stands the man. He addresses the throngs of people beneath him.

 

“My children... today is the today that has been promised to us for so long. For today, we shall shed our worldly beliefs and grasp the truth and power found in the heavens!”

 

The followers all nod in acquiesence. “Spread out before you,” he continues, “Are the tools we shall use to achieve that goal. Fear not, and hesitate not, for only power and knowledge await you beyond the bounds of mortality!”

 

Spread out in front of them are hundreds of wine glasses, in rows, each with a good amount of black liquid. In a highly orderly fashion, each robed person stands behind a glass. If any of them have any trepidation about what they are about to do, then they are doing an extraordinary job of hiding it.

 

In unison, they grab the glasses, lift, and sip, following the lead of their master, who says, “Now, there is no force on earth that can stop us!”

---

“Reports have it that the body count is currently at a rough estimate of six hundred... but this number could change as we get more hard figures. According to police, this has been classified as a cult mass suicide. This cult was known as the Supaido-Kuma Clan, a group of people who apparently had dealings in the black market. Most notably, a branch of theirs was featured in the IGN Wrestling Federation and Smarks Wrestling Federation. While we have nothing further to report at the moment, as details are extremely sketchy, it is important to note that twenty years ago, there was another mass suicide... with only one survivor. We’ll get back to you as-”

---

*CLICK* The TV is turned off. Thoth was standing in the back, doing an interview with Ben Hardy about Mak Francis and the Bemani Cross Wizards when he heard the news from a monitor in the back. He excused himself to watch the news report... but found that he could not stomach it for an extended period of time. He walks back to the interveiw position.

 

“So, Thoth, before the interruption... why exactly have you enlisted Mak Francis in the Bemani Cross Wizards?”

 

“Two things: Number one, I’ve found Mak to be a worthy competitor, one that has even bested me... and I figured that the best way to get back at Tom Flesher was to take one of his best talents. And two... you just called what we saw in the news... an interruption. This interview is over. Thoth gets up out of his chair and walks far off camera, far far away to a remote corner of the arena they’re in right now.

 

Tonight, he faces Tom Flesher in a massive blow-off of his months long feud. And he doesn’t care. Because when he watched that news report, memories came flooding back.

 

You’ll never be as powerful as me.

 

Someday you’ll avenge your father.

 

By god! Thoth has sold his soul and joined the Clan!

 

So Says The Clan.

 

And now the Clan is dead. Thoth looks down at his hands... they look so powerless. Before... with the Clan, he had power. Prestige. Championships. Now, on his own, all he’s managed to do is become a sideshow circus act. Bemani Cross Wizards. What the hell was he thinking? This was, quite possibly, the dumbest idea ever. In the Clan... when he didn’t have to make decisions, he was powerful. Part of a group.

 

Now he feels like shit. He has no more reason to fight. He walks out of the room and into the piercing, unforgiving light of the world.

 

Perhaps it is time to call it a career...

---

*CLICK* The TV is turned off. Nathan Kibagami gets up from a squatting position and turns back towards his heavy bag. He leans in, throws another kick to the bag. He watches the bag sway back and forth, registering the force of his kick. He’s been getting better – the collarbone might end up being beneficial to him, in the long run. He throws another kick, harder this time, and watches as the bag sways back and forth…

 

He watched the SWF sway back and forth, as a result of the impact of the Clan.

 

The bag swings back, nudging him in the leg. It causes the slighest amount of discomfort.

 

The Clan swung back, as it always had... saving his physical body when he needed something –anything—to keep him going, and nearly destroying him and his life when his body had finally healed. It had taken the unconditional love of a woman to make him even a shadow of what he had been...

 

“Nathan, dear...” says Angel, standing on the stairs, waiting for him to finish. “Are you done?”

 

He shakes his head. “I got distracted... the TV. I’ll just be a few more minutes, okay?”

 

“Alright.” She blows him a kiss, smiles at him, and turns around without looking over her shoulder, without worrying... because she knows he’s here to stay. The echoes of kicks against heavy bag echo through the large gym room, light piercing through a skylight and shining through the whole room.

 

... Except for the corner of the room farthest from the punching bag, where a worn black cane rests against the wall – waiting. Ready to be used.

---

*CLICK* The TV is turned off. The darkness that fills the room blankets the man’s figures. It’s a good darkness; it gives him room to think.

 

“Those fools. I didn’t think they’d actually do this again. History truly is the best teacher.”

 

He leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on top of the TV. In the end, he muses, they weren’t really good for anything. Truly inefficient. Mass suicide was probably their best idea ever.

 

No wonder they did it twice.

 

No one knows that this man is sitting in this room, alone, in the darkness. The media and the rest of the world thinks he is dead. Which is perfectly fine with him, as the spotlight of the media never suited him. It helps to explain his stints in and out of the IGN Wrestling Federation and it’s progeny. He didn’t belong in the spotlight. And when he did, he preferred to wear a mask. He didn’t like the people looking at his face. They shouldn’t know who he was. Because he was the man behind the curtain, manipulating everyone into doing his bidding. Even now, things were still going according to plan.

 

And according to his calculations, the next phase of his plan was about to come to fruition. He is reminded of something he once told a younger Nathan Kibagami some time ago.

 

“Soon, his true power will become known to us.”

 

The darkness permates all. No light can get in. The light cannot pierce here. For he is beyond the light. He is Reece Black, also known as Spider Nekura. And he is beyond judgement.

 

So Says The Clan.

[Secret Agent 0]

....

 

 

 

Woah, that was some sweet shit there Thoth. So ends The Clan? Or is there more to come... dun dun duhhh!!

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

*sigh* At least in leaving, you setup more for others. Giving all the time, probably why we've been such good friends. You're the one that let me evolve my character so much, even if it happened chaotically.

 

*raises glass*

 

good tidings bud.

 

-Annie

[Guest CED Ordonez]

...whoa, this is news to me...

[Guest kelloggs]

same here Ced

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

...Kool-Aid is eVil.