AoD Preview: Beyond the Bell goes Ultraviolent!!!
Feb 26, 2021 13:36:35 GMT -5
Mitch 'The Broken' Heart likes this
Post by The Madness Menagerie on Feb 26, 2021 13:36:35 GMT -5
Special thanks to mystifyingoracle, Lab Rat King, and Mitch 'The Broken' Heart for making this interview possible! Had a blast and hope you all did too!
MECU Pavillion
Baltimore MD
The crowd standing around the stage is abuzz as Carnage crews get everything set up for Beyond the Bell, Act of Defiance edition! They don’t have long to wait as Belle comes out and waves at everyone enthusiastically. She isn’t alone and The Legion pops once again as Zephyr Quinn makes her way out behind Belle. Taking her seat, Belle picks up her mic as Zeph stands behind her, eyes on the entryway for the people Belle was about to introduce.
Belle Silva: Legion! How is everyone?!
The crowd pops and Zephyr can’t help but smile along with Belle, even though her eyes never leave the entryway.
Belle Silva: Now as you can probably guess by my, erm… Bodyguard…
Zephyr twitches and looks down at Belle. The two share a quick and amused look and Belle continues.
Belle Silva: This special Act of Defiance edition of Beyond the Belle is going to feature the participants of the UV Title match. A match that has been made incredibly personal and has the potential to explode at any possible moment. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first, the number one contender to the Ultraviolent Championship, Mitch “The Broken” Heart!
The guitar intro to ‘Can’t Trust Anyone’ keys up as Mitch Heart makes his way out, the crowd reaction decidedly mixed as the Detroit native saunters onstage. He throws a fist up to the crowd, the portion of the Legion still behind him favoring him with a pop before he makes his way to his seat.
Belle Silva: Perfect! Mitch, thanks for joining! Now for our next guest, he is Ultravio…
Mitch Heart: Hold up.
He holds up a hand, clearing his throat.
Mitch Heart: Sorry to cut you off, Belle, but I got something I should probably put out there to your bodyguard over there before we go any further.
Shifting his gaze to Zephyr, he gives the Crazy Angel a curt nod and scratches his cheek beneath his eye patch a bit sheepishly.
Mitch Heart: I owe you an apology. I realize I stepped on your toes a few shows back. Wasn’t my intention. I dunno if you saw the video I put out for this, but I got some raw beef with the Rat. Only had eyes for him. What I’m saying is, it wasn’t my intention to crap in your punchbowl, so I apologize for that.
Zephyr hadn’t planned on being put on the spot. Her eyes go wide for a moment as she takes in Mitch’s apology and beckons Belle for her mic.
Zephyr Quinn: I appreciate the gesture but… This isn’t about me right now. When this is all done with King, you and I can hash out whatever differences we happen to have.
Mitch Heart: Sure, sure. You just seemed pretty cheesed off, and I figured I’d better apologize. After all, I know what it’s like to have somebody rob you of your moment. So, I’m sorry. Truly.
Zephyr looks ready to say something but Belle grabs the mic from her instead.
Belle Silva: Remember, it isn’t about you right now…
Her voice is tense and Zephyr eases up as Belle coughs and calms herself down.
Belle Silva: Right, sorry Mitch but I think it’s time to move onto bringing out the champion that you’ll be facing at Act of Defiance. Accompanied by Grace King, I give to you, The Lab Rat King!
As Belle speaks, the opening electric riffs and thump of a kickdrum of Hail to the King, of Avenged Sevenfold fame, rise up beneath her voice. The Ultraviolent Champion steps into view--on one shoulder, he carries his title belt, marred by the fresh bite mark delivered in his most recent promotion. On the other shoulder, riding there as if she’s done it a hundred times, is Grace King--the Lab Rat’s Queen.
King kneels to allow her to step down, and then rises to his full height, a low, menacing growl bubbling in his throat behind his black leather muzzle. His eyes don’t leave Mitch Heart’s face, cold and predatory.
Grace reaches out and lays a hand gently on King’s arm, sparing a glance at Mitch before looking up into her husband’s face.
Grace King: Soon, okay, big guy?
Lab Rat King: … Sssssoon.
Zephyr tenses but doesn’t move as Belle clears her throat and smiles nervously.
Belle Silva: Fantastic.
Mitch’s eye narrows at King, muscles tensed, a snarl growling through his teeth. Still, he manages to keep his composure for the time being. This time, Belle tenses and Zephyr lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. No one was going to attack, yet. When that happened though, Zeph was ready to get Belle away as quickly as possible.
Belle Silva: Alright, let’s cut to the chase, starting with the champion, what does this match mean to you?
The Lab Rat King seats himself very slowly beside his wife, rumbling in his throat. Still watching his opponent like a wolf guarding his den, he answers the question--Grace’s presence seems to keep him more level-headed than usual.
Lab Rat King: Hnnnh… in days past… spinning back the hour’s hand again and again to a span before the knife had yet to land… it would have been my greatest revelry. Something I had been salivating for. Now… the battle ahead represents only the retention of my property, Pretty Red, so I can carry my crown into a clash with carnivores that bite with conviction…
His eyes flicker briefly toward Zephyr Quinn, and then back again.
Lab Rat King: Rather than contending with foes who have forgotten their prrrrinciples.
Belle nods and turns to Mitch.
Belle Silva: Alright Mitch, feel free to respond and just to keep things on an even playing field, the same question to you.
Mitch Heart: Maybe I lost my principles. I don’t know. But at least I had some to lose.
He smirks coldly, and shrugs.
Mitch Heart: What this match means to me, Belle, is everything. You see, people don’t get second chances often. They roll around once in a blue moon if you sit by and wait for them. But I couldn’t wait that long. I reached out, grabbed my destiny as hard as I could, and this. This is my second chance. I’m sure if His Majesty has his way, it’ll be my last chance.
Rolling his shoulders, he looks the mountain of a man in the eye without a drop of fear.
Mitch Heart: So I plan to make the absolute fucking most of it. Crawl from the gutter to the throne with my own two hands.
King laughs, low and slow. Grace raises a brow, looking bored.
Grace King: So, when you do this kind of thing it’s justified but when King does it, it’s unacceptable? And didn’t you *just* try to pressure Zephyr into accepting your public apology for the thing you’re now saying was you grabbing your rightful destiny? Which is it, Mitch? A mistake or righteousness?
Mitch Heart: Pardon me, Your Grace, but nobody asked for your input.
He narrows his eye at the woman in a startling amount of spite and Grace just grins in return.
Grace King: Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Figuratively for now, at least. I’m sure if you make a special request, King can make it literal, too.
Mitch Heart: Fuck you, bitch. You know, believe it or not, I was glad you showed up for a hot minute. When I told King I was glad you found him? I meant that. But you’re not in this brotherhood. You got no right to judge. Unless you think you’re better than me.
King’s low, perpetual growl begins rumbling the moment the word ‘bitch’ leaves Mitch Heart’s mouth, and does not stop as Grace continues to speak.
Grace King: Really? Because it sounds like from the moment I got there, you were upsetti spaghetti that I had...somehow chosen to...help my husband steal the spotlight from you?
She shrugs, rolling her eyes.
Grace King: I mean, if your latest video is to be believed. Honestly, Mitch, not everything is about you. Can’t help but notice you’re dipping into the well of self-degradation yet again. Also notice you still aren’t refuting my first point.
She shrugs and looks back to Belle politely. Belle takes that as a sign to move forward with the interview.
Belle Silva: What did I say Legion? The tension can be felt and all that’s left to do is to do! With that said, onto the next question.
Lab Rat King: Hnnnn… one… little… thing.
A surprisingly polite interruption from King, as he stares across the way at his opponent. His fingers curl against his legs in tight vices, turning his knuckles white.
Lab Rat King: Our thoughts swim in syrup… dribbling in between the words we want to wrestle into the grasp of the tongue. When the language doesn’t come, our Queen is our tongue… Her poetry… is spun from the threads of my thoughts. From her voice my song is still sung. Ssssso… I suggest… you let her ssssspeak… and reign in your poor… choice… of sssssexist sssssyllables.
Grace King: Basically, I’m his interpreter and you should knock it off with the gendered insults.
Mitch Heart: My sincerest apologies.
He gives an exaggerated bow.
Mitch Heart: I could understand him fine before you showed up, but I suppose not everybody else took the time to learn to do that.
Grace King: You know when you, ‘apologize,’ or, ‘compliment,’ someone and it involves self-degradation, it’s not actually an apology or a compliment, right? That’s just a method of either guilting someone into dropping the subject or making them switch modes to comfort you.
Mitch Heart: Noted. You gonna get off your high horse and continue the interview, or do you wanna lecture me all night?
Grace shakes her head with a little laugh.
Grace King: There it is again with the self-abasement.
She looks at Belle.
Grace King: Pardon me. Please continue.
Belle shifts in her seat and looks up at Zephyr who continues to watch silently.
Belle Silva: Guess that’s why you insisted upon being here? Gas and fire… Anyways, The Lab Rat King, this question is to you; since your arrival here at Carnage, rumors of your origins have swirled in your wake. A lot of people stood toe to toe with you and several of them have fallen, claiming that you’re nothing more than a mindless beast. How do you respond to that now that you have found Carnage gold?
The Lab Rat King smirks beneath his muzzle, the expression reaching his eyes.
Lab Rat King: They… were right.
He cocks his head to the side; his eyes still have yet to leave his opponent.
Lab Rat King: But therein the key… the past carries the truth, but the present is unfolding…! Piece by piece, bite by bite, I remember who I am. The shell that so many have fallen to was a beast born of survival, violent desperation, seeking the next conflict to claw into a sense of purpose… but anchors have at last been plunged into the oceans of the moon. The raging sea still torments me--still batters and bruises, threatens to drown. The fight is never over and our lungs are filling, filling, filling up! But we’re not done. We have more to fight for, now that the flotsam and jetsam begin to craft a continuum we can comprehend. And now that the shell--the monster--is regaining balance with the mind… how much more dangerous do you think I will become? My clock is ticking… but my heart is ticking so, so much louder.
Belle looks over at Mitch.
Belle Silva: And Mitch; most would say that you’re probably the first to truly understand The Lab Rat King. We’ve seen the evolution let’s say that King has mentioned, and heard it from his own mouth. Do you have a response?
Mitch Heart: I’ve always thought King was smarter and more wily than people gave him credit for. I still do. That is a clever motherfucker. I mean, he was smart enough to put one over on me, after all.
He shrugs.
Mitch Heart: ...I wish I could be happy about all this. Maybe one day I can be. But there’s too fucking much... there right now.
Sighing, Mitch rubs his temples.
Mitch Heart: ...yeah. That’s about it.
Belle nods and then presses forward.
Belle Silva: You mentioned ‘putting one over on’ you. I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that, do you mind elaborating?
Mitch Heart: Sure, Belle. I said as much in my promo addressing this match. I made the challenge for the Ultraviolent title to Kyra on my own steam. I got the guts up to do it. I made it. You can do that, you know- make open challenges at any time. But it wasn’t until I challenged Kyra that King decided he was impatient and wanted in on my action. He knew I wouldn’t object. I should have, but I didn’t.
Lab Rat King: Wrong.
The word is abrupt, low, and husky. King’s eyes are level with Mitch’s face as he speaks--slowly, clearly making an effort to work in as plain English as he could.
Lab Rat King: You’re wrrrrong… Broken Boy. My intent… was never… to sttttep in front of you.
His voice trembles--it’s unclear if it’s rage, sorrow, or both.
Lab Rat King: I sought only to claim… what would eventually be mine. I sought to plant my teeth in leather as a reminder--to the Goddess, to *you*, that I would be waiting in the dark… ready to take it when the time came. I never called for territory in your tumble. I never demanded a place to sign my name… I only wanted them--all of them--to know… that the crowned Rat would take the throne in the end.
He exhales through his nose, eyes narrowed.
Lab Rat King: Carnage… the orchestrators of the roped cage were the ones who made that choice. I wasn’t possessed of enough self-control to mmmmake that call… you blame me, spite me for something I did not choose. And you buried the blade without whispering a word before.
Mitch pales a bit, his fists clenching and unclenching.
Mitch Heart: ...what the fuck was I supposed to think? You run in, slam the shit out of me and Kyra and say you’re tired of waiting, put teeth in the belt, walked around calling it yours before it even was, what was anyone supposed to infer from that?
His lip trembles slightly, breaths quick.
Mitch Heart: Nothing you said to me the whole time before even had a damn inkling that you being in the match wasn’t your idea. You didn’t seem surprised at all! If that was the case, why didn’t you tell me?
King snarls, shaking his head in frustration.
Lab Rat King: YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND. NOT SO WELL AS YOU BELIEVE. I want WAR! I want BLOOD! Invite me into the fray and watch me SSSALIVATE! He signs on the dotted line, I know only his volatile love for violence that resonates with mine! The Little Man, he couldn’t spit out words you’d understand. If my Heart Pounder had asked me to step down--I would have tried, if I had known, but he said nothing, and--I don’t even know that I could without snapping my own bones!!
He slams his fists on his legs, shaking.
Lab Rat King: You long for violence… but I… need it…! I can’t sssstop when I start…!!
Eyes widening, Grace comes closer to King, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning gently against him. She murmurs something into his ear, squeezing his hand soothingly. He seems to calm down, marginally, drawing in a steadying breath.
Mitch, contrastingly, is trembling, his one-eyed gaze upward at the evening sky. His breath seems to hitch in his throat slightly before looking back down, his eyes only tilted up as far as they needed to be to look at his opponent level.
Mitch Heart: ...you’re telling me… all of this, all of it… is a giant goddamn misunderstanding?
The question doesn’t seem to be rhetorical.
The Lab Rat King snarls, standing up abruptly. His chair is knocked back with a clatter.
Lab Rat King: YOU SHUT ME OUT! YOU SHUT ME OUT! I DESPISED LISTENING TO YOU--WATCHING YOU--DESTROY YOURSELF! I TRIED TO OPEN YOUR CAGE DOOR AND YOU HELD IT SHUT FROM THE OTHER SIDE! WHY? WHAT COULD I ASSUME WITHOUT YOUR WORDS TO SHOW ME THE TRUTH?
Mitch Heart: I’M SORRY!!
The Broken jumps to his feet as well. Screamed as they were, for once, the words didn’t seem sarcastic or facetious.
Mitch Heart: I’VE...I’ve…
Inhale. Exhale. In the spotlights, Mitch’s uncovered eye seems a bit damp.
Mitch Heart: I should’ve fucking talked to you. I should’ve said I was going through some shit. I had a ton of weight on my shoulders of all fucking sorts and I didn’t feel I could trust anybody because I’m fucking… wired weird. There’s a lot of shit I shouldn't have said, shouldn’t have done.
Mitch grinds his teeth.
Mitch Heart: But it’s too late. This is the fucking point in an argument where there isn’t a safe way down, isn’t it? I mean, we both said some pretty heinous shit to each other. No matter what, this shit later tonight, it’s gonna happen, and it’s gonna be ugly.
After a beat of silence, his chest heaving with adrenaline-driven breath, the Lab Rat King’s shoulders relax. Something comes across his eyes--like a release of tension, or something close to it.
Lab Rat King: Hnnh.
He cracks his neck, pressing his hand against the side of it as he does.
Lab Rat King: Too late… for a safe way down? Yessss. You’re right… but since when… has that been our prrrreference?
He cocks his head, a smile in his voice. Surprisingly, he returns to his seat, picking it up and replacing it.
Lab Rat King: You’ve climbed all the way up here… so take off that coward’s mask… and jump.
He sits down beside his wife.
Lab Rat King: Jump… Mmmm-mmitch. Battle… is never ugly. Jump… and make something beautiful.
Belle coughs nervously as Zephyr looks ready for anything. For a moment everything is frozen in time before Belle decides to continue.
Belle Silva: At Chaos 106 we, the Legion saw a unique set of matches made by the three of you involved in the Ultraviolent match at Age of Defiance; starting with Mitch this time, did you learn anything from your experience?
Mitch Heart: I learned that Trent Steel is an absolute fucking psycho. And I mean that in the most complimentary way possible.
He grins.
Mitch Heart: I mean, did you see that? Had to dislocate the dude’s arm to put him down. I respect that kind of resilience in a fighter. And the violence?
Mitch makes a ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture.
Mitch Heart: Ten out of ten, would fight again.
Zephyr shakes her head with a small smile on her face. For the first time since the beginning of the interview she speaks, her voice barely containing a note of rage.
Zephyr Quinn: Watch any Trent Steel match and anyone will learn that same. Exact. Thing. I chose Trent for a reason to face you Mitch and would you like to know why?
Mitch Heart: Doing and watching are two entirely different animals. But please, enlighten me.
Zephyr goes to respond but Belle hisses at her and Zephyr stops herself.
Zephyr Quinn: Nevermind. It can wait until we have our sit down.
Belle Silva: Damn straight. This is a tense situation as it is, you know that. King, same question to you.
Despite the day’s revelations, King still watches Mitch with a hawklike eye as he answers.
Lab Rat King: The Tarot Terror is one of ourssss… no lessons to learn beyond what we already know. A worthy warrior… but not one who warrants my wrrrrath. Together, we can deliver to the mad masses a mind-splitting show--but there is no hostility from blow to blow. In a moment of peril, witnessed by the populace… he did not strike. His shelter since my spawning here has sweetened my sleep. The Tarot Terror possesses the deepest of my trust… and I’ll bleed those who bring him any suffering.
A low growl rumbles from his throat.
Lab Rat King: Suffering of any kind.
Belle stares briefly at the monster before cracking a smile and looking at him.
Belle Silva: And we wouldn’t want THAT!
She straightens her index cards and resituates herself before continuing, unsure how to ease the high tensions. An idea forms in her head quickly though and she holds up a finger long enough to grab another stack of notecards from beneath her chair.
Belle Silva: Ok! So to take a break from some of the seriousness of this match, I opened the floor to the roster members to send in their questions for anyone on this stage. First question…
Belle flicks through her phone and her eyes widen in surprise.
Belle Silva: Goes to Grace King! Axton Gunn writes in wanting to know…
Another pause as she registers the question that she’s about to ask.
Belle Silva: Wh… Why do you look like his babysitter from when he was nine years old?
Grace shrugs with a little smirk.
Grace King: Because I am. You still got a puppy love crush on me, rock star?
Belle smiles.
Belle Silva: Another interview for a different time is in the works! Unfortunately we have to keep this train moving.
Lab Rat King: CHOO CHOO.
Flipping to her next card, a mischievous smile crosses her face.
Belle Silva: I have one VERY important question left, each requiring an answer from both Mitch Heart and The Lab Rat King. Now…
She’s interrupted by a beep on her phone and her eyes flicker, seeing who it is from. Another vibration tells her a new message has popped up and her eyes widen.
Belle Silva: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been contacted by the one and only Ken Davison! He writes in to ask The Lab Rat King, when are you going to face him…
Belle gulps, suddenly afraid to finish the question. Zephyr peers over her shoulder and she smirks.
Zephyr Quinn: When are you facing Ken like, ‘a man’ champ?
Lab Rat King: Never.
He laughs, a little more malicious than usual. His amber eyes glimmer with bloodlust.
Lab Rat King: I’ll face the Fallen God like a Monster. Our war will begin and end within the rusted beams of the RAT CAGE. As for the hour… tick, tock, TICK, TOCK! I’m waiting. I remember your charming challenge; you didn’t like that I savoured the bite of your pretty lady’s fight. Once I’m finished tightening my grip on Pretty Red, you’d better come get me. Hurry hurry hurry!!
Zephyr smiles at King’s response as Belle once again takes command.
Belle Silva: Alright! Gentlemen, the evening has been amazing, Grace…
She pauses to acknowledge Grace.
Belle Silva: Thank you for joining as well. Last question and we’ll start with the number one contender to the UV Title! Mitch Heart, assuming that you win at Act of Defiance, how will you elevate not just your reign but the division itself as its figurehead?
Mitch Heart: That’s a good question.
Closing his eye for a moment, he let out an exhale, his lips curling into a slight smile.
Mitch Heart: I think Kyra had the right idea, to start. The name on the marquee is MOTHERFUCKING CARNAGE!
Grinning, he pauses to let the Legion pop, continuing once the cheers die down.
Mitch Heart: Now, no disrespect to Leon and the World Champions that came before him, but in a company named for carnage, shouldn’t the most carnage-a-licious title, with the most brutal and fearless people in the world gunning for it, be the focal point?
Reaching up with one hand, Mitch combs his fingers back through his short hair.
Mitch Heart: I want to elevate the Ultraviolent Championship to the level of the World Championship and beyond. I want to be a fighting champion- if it was up to me, I’d defend that belt at every opportunity against all comers. Now, I’m not as magnanimous as Leon. I’m not going to restrict myself to three defenses on the notion that I’d hold the belt in perpetuity otherwise. What I do plan on is having an open door policy. You want a shot? All you gotta fucking do is ask.
His smile is probably more genuine than it’s been since before Christmas.
Mitch Heart: That’s what I want, and when I win, that’s what I’ll do.
Belle nods.
Belle Silva: Lofty goals and entirely possible to do. However, there is one more mountain to climb…
She looks over at The Lab Rat King.
Belle Silva: King, as champion I’ll grant you a short response if you’d like, otherwise, same question to you.
King is staring at Mitch, his eyes narrowed as he sneers behind his muzzle.
Lab Rat King: Ssssstill such a pretty liar.
He cracks his knuckles, sitting forward.
Lab Rat King: He claims to desire what I have already done… what I am already doing. Yet his ranting and raving before this facade of an exchange sssspeaks volumes otherwise. He pried for Pretty Red because she pays. He spoke of nothing else. Prrrrecious paper drives him, and he lays the blame on the Rat for rrrruining Christmas.
He laughs, low and raspy.
Lab Rat King: If he had spoken to us, even a whisper, we would have offered from our meagre hoard. No salary supports our Queen, no hospital is hospitable to a dog on the run… he is wrong, and wrong, and wrong again. He ssssteals the strap he seeks to elevate… but we remember, Broken Boy. We remember.
Grace shrugs, raising a brow.
Grace King: Yeah, I don’t know what he meant by salary. I’m a novelist. I’d *love* to find out where my salaried novelist job is, because that sounds like a sweet deal. We don’t have hospital bills because we can’t *go* to hospitals. We have to figure out other ways to try and make things work, and it’s not cheap or easy.
He taps his temple, points to the Legion, and then slowly looks to Belle.
Lab Rat King: I’ve told you and the mad masses already, Sonorous Silver. I am War. I am violence, personified. If any bold, bloody bastard desires to prove they are a disciple of true bloodlust, they will come for me… and as I have done since I broke Baltimore’s Champion over my knee, I will take any challenge, anywhere, any hour, lest my battling blood go sour.
His eyes return to Mitch again, his fingers tightening on the red strap draped over his shoulder.
Lab Rat King: No need to crawl around in the dark… sssskittering and THIEVING. THEY NEED ONLY ASK… AND I WILL GLADLY GRIND THEM TO DUST BETWEEN MY TEETH TO FEED THE LEGION’S HUNGER FOR TRUE!! CARNAGE!!
The Legion’s clambering noise rises under his voice in a fever between cheering and jeering.
Mitch Heart: There you fucking go again. I said I was wrong. I said I was sorry. I should have talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions and letting shit spiral from that. I own that. But you keep calling me ‘boy’ and a fucking liar and your wife keeps shitting on me. You took something you know rubs me raw and mocked me for it for everyone to see. You assumed things of me that I would never fucking do. Why am I the only one apologizing here?
He snorts, eye flaring up, his eased mood starting to visibly go hot again. He also sounds significantly hurt.
Mitch Heart: Yeah, you got me. I needed the money. But if you think that’s the only reason I wanted it you’re out of your mind. If that’s all I wanted, any title would do. Shit, I could be doing anything if that’s all I wanted, stuff that doesn’t involve an hours long commute. But I want to be here, doing this, for this belt, because I fucking believe in it. Judge on me all you want, but making this division and this title the best it can be is something I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on it, and I’d want that even if there wasn’t an extra dime involved. But there is, and sure, I’ll cop to the fact that the champion’s purse would really help me out- then and still. Guilty as charged.
Grace King: Whether or not you knew you were wrong when you said those things in your promotion, we have a right to clarify the truth for the sake of the Legion. They deserve to know our honest situation as much as they know yours.
King snorts softly, a bull pacing behind a fence.
Lab Rat King: He doesn’t understand the severity of what he’s done… the barrier he breached. He is not the only creature slow to trust… and that trust is precarious, always swaying on the edge of death. Words cannot mend what has been broken… only action. Only time.
He lifts his head, grinding his teeth behind his mask.
Lab Rat King: I have no proof you would not transgress further than you already have… your words are empty. If that ssssstings you… Meet me in the cage of cords, between the steel and sky. Show me you can still speak my language.
Mitch Heart: Fine. And I’ll sweeten the pot. If I lose? I’ll stand if I can. I’ll put my hands behind my back. And you can freely take as many pounds of flesh from me as you want. Well, what’s left of it afterwards, anyway. Would that make us square?
King snarls, raking his hand across the plate of his title belt.
Lab Rat King: I’m sick of your self-destruction. Your mmmmasochism. If you think that’s what I wwwwant from you, you’re still not LISTENING.
He simmers himself, growling low in his throat.
Lab Rat King: I told you what I’m aching for, right at the beginning. I told you. If you lose… if you fall to my feet, when your Act of Defiance fails… I want you to Get. Back. Up.
There’s a malicious smirk under his mask.
Lab Rat King: And try. Again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN.
Mitch Heart: That’s it? That’s what you want?
His smirk, unknown, slowly matches his opponent’s.
Mitch Heart: Easy peasy.
Belle looks between the two and then smiles to the camera.
Belle Silva: Well there you have it folks! The stage has been set for the Ultraviolent Title to be defended. The Lab Rat King as champion but will he walk out STILL the champion? Mitch Heart. A challenger like no other tests his drive against a champion who has yet to lose a one on one match. This is going to be a match that will forever remain in our minds as what the UV Division is all about! Dearest Legion, thank you SO much for making this all possible and we’ll see you all at Act of Defiance!
With that “She’s a Genius” by Jet rings out and the cameras come to a close.
MECU Pavillion
Baltimore MD
The crowd standing around the stage is abuzz as Carnage crews get everything set up for Beyond the Bell, Act of Defiance edition! They don’t have long to wait as Belle comes out and waves at everyone enthusiastically. She isn’t alone and The Legion pops once again as Zephyr Quinn makes her way out behind Belle. Taking her seat, Belle picks up her mic as Zeph stands behind her, eyes on the entryway for the people Belle was about to introduce.
Belle Silva: Legion! How is everyone?!
The crowd pops and Zephyr can’t help but smile along with Belle, even though her eyes never leave the entryway.
Belle Silva: Now as you can probably guess by my, erm… Bodyguard…
Zephyr twitches and looks down at Belle. The two share a quick and amused look and Belle continues.
Belle Silva: This special Act of Defiance edition of Beyond the Belle is going to feature the participants of the UV Title match. A match that has been made incredibly personal and has the potential to explode at any possible moment. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first, the number one contender to the Ultraviolent Championship, Mitch “The Broken” Heart!
The guitar intro to ‘Can’t Trust Anyone’ keys up as Mitch Heart makes his way out, the crowd reaction decidedly mixed as the Detroit native saunters onstage. He throws a fist up to the crowd, the portion of the Legion still behind him favoring him with a pop before he makes his way to his seat.
Belle Silva: Perfect! Mitch, thanks for joining! Now for our next guest, he is Ultravio…
Mitch Heart: Hold up.
He holds up a hand, clearing his throat.
Mitch Heart: Sorry to cut you off, Belle, but I got something I should probably put out there to your bodyguard over there before we go any further.
Shifting his gaze to Zephyr, he gives the Crazy Angel a curt nod and scratches his cheek beneath his eye patch a bit sheepishly.
Mitch Heart: I owe you an apology. I realize I stepped on your toes a few shows back. Wasn’t my intention. I dunno if you saw the video I put out for this, but I got some raw beef with the Rat. Only had eyes for him. What I’m saying is, it wasn’t my intention to crap in your punchbowl, so I apologize for that.
Zephyr hadn’t planned on being put on the spot. Her eyes go wide for a moment as she takes in Mitch’s apology and beckons Belle for her mic.
Zephyr Quinn: I appreciate the gesture but… This isn’t about me right now. When this is all done with King, you and I can hash out whatever differences we happen to have.
Mitch Heart: Sure, sure. You just seemed pretty cheesed off, and I figured I’d better apologize. After all, I know what it’s like to have somebody rob you of your moment. So, I’m sorry. Truly.
Zephyr looks ready to say something but Belle grabs the mic from her instead.
Belle Silva: Remember, it isn’t about you right now…
Her voice is tense and Zephyr eases up as Belle coughs and calms herself down.
Belle Silva: Right, sorry Mitch but I think it’s time to move onto bringing out the champion that you’ll be facing at Act of Defiance. Accompanied by Grace King, I give to you, The Lab Rat King!
As Belle speaks, the opening electric riffs and thump of a kickdrum of Hail to the King, of Avenged Sevenfold fame, rise up beneath her voice. The Ultraviolent Champion steps into view--on one shoulder, he carries his title belt, marred by the fresh bite mark delivered in his most recent promotion. On the other shoulder, riding there as if she’s done it a hundred times, is Grace King--the Lab Rat’s Queen.
King kneels to allow her to step down, and then rises to his full height, a low, menacing growl bubbling in his throat behind his black leather muzzle. His eyes don’t leave Mitch Heart’s face, cold and predatory.
Grace reaches out and lays a hand gently on King’s arm, sparing a glance at Mitch before looking up into her husband’s face.
Grace King: Soon, okay, big guy?
Lab Rat King: … Sssssoon.
Zephyr tenses but doesn’t move as Belle clears her throat and smiles nervously.
Belle Silva: Fantastic.
Mitch’s eye narrows at King, muscles tensed, a snarl growling through his teeth. Still, he manages to keep his composure for the time being. This time, Belle tenses and Zephyr lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. No one was going to attack, yet. When that happened though, Zeph was ready to get Belle away as quickly as possible.
Belle Silva: Alright, let’s cut to the chase, starting with the champion, what does this match mean to you?
The Lab Rat King seats himself very slowly beside his wife, rumbling in his throat. Still watching his opponent like a wolf guarding his den, he answers the question--Grace’s presence seems to keep him more level-headed than usual.
Lab Rat King: Hnnnh… in days past… spinning back the hour’s hand again and again to a span before the knife had yet to land… it would have been my greatest revelry. Something I had been salivating for. Now… the battle ahead represents only the retention of my property, Pretty Red, so I can carry my crown into a clash with carnivores that bite with conviction…
His eyes flicker briefly toward Zephyr Quinn, and then back again.
Lab Rat King: Rather than contending with foes who have forgotten their prrrrinciples.
Belle nods and turns to Mitch.
Belle Silva: Alright Mitch, feel free to respond and just to keep things on an even playing field, the same question to you.
Mitch Heart: Maybe I lost my principles. I don’t know. But at least I had some to lose.
He smirks coldly, and shrugs.
Mitch Heart: What this match means to me, Belle, is everything. You see, people don’t get second chances often. They roll around once in a blue moon if you sit by and wait for them. But I couldn’t wait that long. I reached out, grabbed my destiny as hard as I could, and this. This is my second chance. I’m sure if His Majesty has his way, it’ll be my last chance.
Rolling his shoulders, he looks the mountain of a man in the eye without a drop of fear.
Mitch Heart: So I plan to make the absolute fucking most of it. Crawl from the gutter to the throne with my own two hands.
King laughs, low and slow. Grace raises a brow, looking bored.
Grace King: So, when you do this kind of thing it’s justified but when King does it, it’s unacceptable? And didn’t you *just* try to pressure Zephyr into accepting your public apology for the thing you’re now saying was you grabbing your rightful destiny? Which is it, Mitch? A mistake or righteousness?
Mitch Heart: Pardon me, Your Grace, but nobody asked for your input.
He narrows his eye at the woman in a startling amount of spite and Grace just grins in return.
Grace King: Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Figuratively for now, at least. I’m sure if you make a special request, King can make it literal, too.
Mitch Heart: Fuck you, bitch. You know, believe it or not, I was glad you showed up for a hot minute. When I told King I was glad you found him? I meant that. But you’re not in this brotherhood. You got no right to judge. Unless you think you’re better than me.
King’s low, perpetual growl begins rumbling the moment the word ‘bitch’ leaves Mitch Heart’s mouth, and does not stop as Grace continues to speak.
Grace King: Really? Because it sounds like from the moment I got there, you were upsetti spaghetti that I had...somehow chosen to...help my husband steal the spotlight from you?
She shrugs, rolling her eyes.
Grace King: I mean, if your latest video is to be believed. Honestly, Mitch, not everything is about you. Can’t help but notice you’re dipping into the well of self-degradation yet again. Also notice you still aren’t refuting my first point.
She shrugs and looks back to Belle politely. Belle takes that as a sign to move forward with the interview.
Belle Silva: What did I say Legion? The tension can be felt and all that’s left to do is to do! With that said, onto the next question.
Lab Rat King: Hnnnn… one… little… thing.
A surprisingly polite interruption from King, as he stares across the way at his opponent. His fingers curl against his legs in tight vices, turning his knuckles white.
Lab Rat King: Our thoughts swim in syrup… dribbling in between the words we want to wrestle into the grasp of the tongue. When the language doesn’t come, our Queen is our tongue… Her poetry… is spun from the threads of my thoughts. From her voice my song is still sung. Ssssso… I suggest… you let her ssssspeak… and reign in your poor… choice… of sssssexist sssssyllables.
Grace King: Basically, I’m his interpreter and you should knock it off with the gendered insults.
Mitch Heart: My sincerest apologies.
He gives an exaggerated bow.
Mitch Heart: I could understand him fine before you showed up, but I suppose not everybody else took the time to learn to do that.
Grace King: You know when you, ‘apologize,’ or, ‘compliment,’ someone and it involves self-degradation, it’s not actually an apology or a compliment, right? That’s just a method of either guilting someone into dropping the subject or making them switch modes to comfort you.
Mitch Heart: Noted. You gonna get off your high horse and continue the interview, or do you wanna lecture me all night?
Grace shakes her head with a little laugh.
Grace King: There it is again with the self-abasement.
She looks at Belle.
Grace King: Pardon me. Please continue.
Belle shifts in her seat and looks up at Zephyr who continues to watch silently.
Belle Silva: Guess that’s why you insisted upon being here? Gas and fire… Anyways, The Lab Rat King, this question is to you; since your arrival here at Carnage, rumors of your origins have swirled in your wake. A lot of people stood toe to toe with you and several of them have fallen, claiming that you’re nothing more than a mindless beast. How do you respond to that now that you have found Carnage gold?
The Lab Rat King smirks beneath his muzzle, the expression reaching his eyes.
Lab Rat King: They… were right.
He cocks his head to the side; his eyes still have yet to leave his opponent.
Lab Rat King: But therein the key… the past carries the truth, but the present is unfolding…! Piece by piece, bite by bite, I remember who I am. The shell that so many have fallen to was a beast born of survival, violent desperation, seeking the next conflict to claw into a sense of purpose… but anchors have at last been plunged into the oceans of the moon. The raging sea still torments me--still batters and bruises, threatens to drown. The fight is never over and our lungs are filling, filling, filling up! But we’re not done. We have more to fight for, now that the flotsam and jetsam begin to craft a continuum we can comprehend. And now that the shell--the monster--is regaining balance with the mind… how much more dangerous do you think I will become? My clock is ticking… but my heart is ticking so, so much louder.
Belle looks over at Mitch.
Belle Silva: And Mitch; most would say that you’re probably the first to truly understand The Lab Rat King. We’ve seen the evolution let’s say that King has mentioned, and heard it from his own mouth. Do you have a response?
Mitch Heart: I’ve always thought King was smarter and more wily than people gave him credit for. I still do. That is a clever motherfucker. I mean, he was smart enough to put one over on me, after all.
He shrugs.
Mitch Heart: ...I wish I could be happy about all this. Maybe one day I can be. But there’s too fucking much... there right now.
Sighing, Mitch rubs his temples.
Mitch Heart: ...yeah. That’s about it.
Belle nods and then presses forward.
Belle Silva: You mentioned ‘putting one over on’ you. I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that, do you mind elaborating?
Mitch Heart: Sure, Belle. I said as much in my promo addressing this match. I made the challenge for the Ultraviolent title to Kyra on my own steam. I got the guts up to do it. I made it. You can do that, you know- make open challenges at any time. But it wasn’t until I challenged Kyra that King decided he was impatient and wanted in on my action. He knew I wouldn’t object. I should have, but I didn’t.
Lab Rat King: Wrong.
The word is abrupt, low, and husky. King’s eyes are level with Mitch’s face as he speaks--slowly, clearly making an effort to work in as plain English as he could.
Lab Rat King: You’re wrrrrong… Broken Boy. My intent… was never… to sttttep in front of you.
His voice trembles--it’s unclear if it’s rage, sorrow, or both.
Lab Rat King: I sought only to claim… what would eventually be mine. I sought to plant my teeth in leather as a reminder--to the Goddess, to *you*, that I would be waiting in the dark… ready to take it when the time came. I never called for territory in your tumble. I never demanded a place to sign my name… I only wanted them--all of them--to know… that the crowned Rat would take the throne in the end.
He exhales through his nose, eyes narrowed.
Lab Rat King: Carnage… the orchestrators of the roped cage were the ones who made that choice. I wasn’t possessed of enough self-control to mmmmake that call… you blame me, spite me for something I did not choose. And you buried the blade without whispering a word before.
Mitch pales a bit, his fists clenching and unclenching.
Mitch Heart: ...what the fuck was I supposed to think? You run in, slam the shit out of me and Kyra and say you’re tired of waiting, put teeth in the belt, walked around calling it yours before it even was, what was anyone supposed to infer from that?
His lip trembles slightly, breaths quick.
Mitch Heart: Nothing you said to me the whole time before even had a damn inkling that you being in the match wasn’t your idea. You didn’t seem surprised at all! If that was the case, why didn’t you tell me?
King snarls, shaking his head in frustration.
Lab Rat King: YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND. NOT SO WELL AS YOU BELIEVE. I want WAR! I want BLOOD! Invite me into the fray and watch me SSSALIVATE! He signs on the dotted line, I know only his volatile love for violence that resonates with mine! The Little Man, he couldn’t spit out words you’d understand. If my Heart Pounder had asked me to step down--I would have tried, if I had known, but he said nothing, and--I don’t even know that I could without snapping my own bones!!
He slams his fists on his legs, shaking.
Lab Rat King: You long for violence… but I… need it…! I can’t sssstop when I start…!!
Eyes widening, Grace comes closer to King, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning gently against him. She murmurs something into his ear, squeezing his hand soothingly. He seems to calm down, marginally, drawing in a steadying breath.
Mitch, contrastingly, is trembling, his one-eyed gaze upward at the evening sky. His breath seems to hitch in his throat slightly before looking back down, his eyes only tilted up as far as they needed to be to look at his opponent level.
Mitch Heart: ...you’re telling me… all of this, all of it… is a giant goddamn misunderstanding?
The question doesn’t seem to be rhetorical.
The Lab Rat King snarls, standing up abruptly. His chair is knocked back with a clatter.
Lab Rat King: YOU SHUT ME OUT! YOU SHUT ME OUT! I DESPISED LISTENING TO YOU--WATCHING YOU--DESTROY YOURSELF! I TRIED TO OPEN YOUR CAGE DOOR AND YOU HELD IT SHUT FROM THE OTHER SIDE! WHY? WHAT COULD I ASSUME WITHOUT YOUR WORDS TO SHOW ME THE TRUTH?
Mitch Heart: I’M SORRY!!
The Broken jumps to his feet as well. Screamed as they were, for once, the words didn’t seem sarcastic or facetious.
Mitch Heart: I’VE...I’ve…
Inhale. Exhale. In the spotlights, Mitch’s uncovered eye seems a bit damp.
Mitch Heart: I should’ve fucking talked to you. I should’ve said I was going through some shit. I had a ton of weight on my shoulders of all fucking sorts and I didn’t feel I could trust anybody because I’m fucking… wired weird. There’s a lot of shit I shouldn't have said, shouldn’t have done.
Mitch grinds his teeth.
Mitch Heart: But it’s too late. This is the fucking point in an argument where there isn’t a safe way down, isn’t it? I mean, we both said some pretty heinous shit to each other. No matter what, this shit later tonight, it’s gonna happen, and it’s gonna be ugly.
After a beat of silence, his chest heaving with adrenaline-driven breath, the Lab Rat King’s shoulders relax. Something comes across his eyes--like a release of tension, or something close to it.
Lab Rat King: Hnnh.
He cracks his neck, pressing his hand against the side of it as he does.
Lab Rat King: Too late… for a safe way down? Yessss. You’re right… but since when… has that been our prrrreference?
He cocks his head, a smile in his voice. Surprisingly, he returns to his seat, picking it up and replacing it.
Lab Rat King: You’ve climbed all the way up here… so take off that coward’s mask… and jump.
He sits down beside his wife.
Lab Rat King: Jump… Mmmm-mmitch. Battle… is never ugly. Jump… and make something beautiful.
Belle coughs nervously as Zephyr looks ready for anything. For a moment everything is frozen in time before Belle decides to continue.
Belle Silva: At Chaos 106 we, the Legion saw a unique set of matches made by the three of you involved in the Ultraviolent match at Age of Defiance; starting with Mitch this time, did you learn anything from your experience?
Mitch Heart: I learned that Trent Steel is an absolute fucking psycho. And I mean that in the most complimentary way possible.
He grins.
Mitch Heart: I mean, did you see that? Had to dislocate the dude’s arm to put him down. I respect that kind of resilience in a fighter. And the violence?
Mitch makes a ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture.
Mitch Heart: Ten out of ten, would fight again.
Zephyr shakes her head with a small smile on her face. For the first time since the beginning of the interview she speaks, her voice barely containing a note of rage.
Zephyr Quinn: Watch any Trent Steel match and anyone will learn that same. Exact. Thing. I chose Trent for a reason to face you Mitch and would you like to know why?
Mitch Heart: Doing and watching are two entirely different animals. But please, enlighten me.
Zephyr goes to respond but Belle hisses at her and Zephyr stops herself.
Zephyr Quinn: Nevermind. It can wait until we have our sit down.
Belle Silva: Damn straight. This is a tense situation as it is, you know that. King, same question to you.
Despite the day’s revelations, King still watches Mitch with a hawklike eye as he answers.
Lab Rat King: The Tarot Terror is one of ourssss… no lessons to learn beyond what we already know. A worthy warrior… but not one who warrants my wrrrrath. Together, we can deliver to the mad masses a mind-splitting show--but there is no hostility from blow to blow. In a moment of peril, witnessed by the populace… he did not strike. His shelter since my spawning here has sweetened my sleep. The Tarot Terror possesses the deepest of my trust… and I’ll bleed those who bring him any suffering.
A low growl rumbles from his throat.
Lab Rat King: Suffering of any kind.
Belle stares briefly at the monster before cracking a smile and looking at him.
Belle Silva: And we wouldn’t want THAT!
She straightens her index cards and resituates herself before continuing, unsure how to ease the high tensions. An idea forms in her head quickly though and she holds up a finger long enough to grab another stack of notecards from beneath her chair.
Belle Silva: Ok! So to take a break from some of the seriousness of this match, I opened the floor to the roster members to send in their questions for anyone on this stage. First question…
Belle flicks through her phone and her eyes widen in surprise.
Belle Silva: Goes to Grace King! Axton Gunn writes in wanting to know…
Another pause as she registers the question that she’s about to ask.
Belle Silva: Wh… Why do you look like his babysitter from when he was nine years old?
Grace shrugs with a little smirk.
Grace King: Because I am. You still got a puppy love crush on me, rock star?
Belle smiles.
Belle Silva: Another interview for a different time is in the works! Unfortunately we have to keep this train moving.
Lab Rat King: CHOO CHOO.
Flipping to her next card, a mischievous smile crosses her face.
Belle Silva: I have one VERY important question left, each requiring an answer from both Mitch Heart and The Lab Rat King. Now…
She’s interrupted by a beep on her phone and her eyes flicker, seeing who it is from. Another vibration tells her a new message has popped up and her eyes widen.
Belle Silva: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been contacted by the one and only Ken Davison! He writes in to ask The Lab Rat King, when are you going to face him…
Belle gulps, suddenly afraid to finish the question. Zephyr peers over her shoulder and she smirks.
Zephyr Quinn: When are you facing Ken like, ‘a man’ champ?
Lab Rat King: Never.
He laughs, a little more malicious than usual. His amber eyes glimmer with bloodlust.
Lab Rat King: I’ll face the Fallen God like a Monster. Our war will begin and end within the rusted beams of the RAT CAGE. As for the hour… tick, tock, TICK, TOCK! I’m waiting. I remember your charming challenge; you didn’t like that I savoured the bite of your pretty lady’s fight. Once I’m finished tightening my grip on Pretty Red, you’d better come get me. Hurry hurry hurry!!
Zephyr smiles at King’s response as Belle once again takes command.
Belle Silva: Alright! Gentlemen, the evening has been amazing, Grace…
She pauses to acknowledge Grace.
Belle Silva: Thank you for joining as well. Last question and we’ll start with the number one contender to the UV Title! Mitch Heart, assuming that you win at Act of Defiance, how will you elevate not just your reign but the division itself as its figurehead?
Mitch Heart: That’s a good question.
Closing his eye for a moment, he let out an exhale, his lips curling into a slight smile.
Mitch Heart: I think Kyra had the right idea, to start. The name on the marquee is MOTHERFUCKING CARNAGE!
Grinning, he pauses to let the Legion pop, continuing once the cheers die down.
Mitch Heart: Now, no disrespect to Leon and the World Champions that came before him, but in a company named for carnage, shouldn’t the most carnage-a-licious title, with the most brutal and fearless people in the world gunning for it, be the focal point?
Reaching up with one hand, Mitch combs his fingers back through his short hair.
Mitch Heart: I want to elevate the Ultraviolent Championship to the level of the World Championship and beyond. I want to be a fighting champion- if it was up to me, I’d defend that belt at every opportunity against all comers. Now, I’m not as magnanimous as Leon. I’m not going to restrict myself to three defenses on the notion that I’d hold the belt in perpetuity otherwise. What I do plan on is having an open door policy. You want a shot? All you gotta fucking do is ask.
His smile is probably more genuine than it’s been since before Christmas.
Mitch Heart: That’s what I want, and when I win, that’s what I’ll do.
Belle nods.
Belle Silva: Lofty goals and entirely possible to do. However, there is one more mountain to climb…
She looks over at The Lab Rat King.
Belle Silva: King, as champion I’ll grant you a short response if you’d like, otherwise, same question to you.
King is staring at Mitch, his eyes narrowed as he sneers behind his muzzle.
Lab Rat King: Ssssstill such a pretty liar.
He cracks his knuckles, sitting forward.
Lab Rat King: He claims to desire what I have already done… what I am already doing. Yet his ranting and raving before this facade of an exchange sssspeaks volumes otherwise. He pried for Pretty Red because she pays. He spoke of nothing else. Prrrrecious paper drives him, and he lays the blame on the Rat for rrrruining Christmas.
He laughs, low and raspy.
Lab Rat King: If he had spoken to us, even a whisper, we would have offered from our meagre hoard. No salary supports our Queen, no hospital is hospitable to a dog on the run… he is wrong, and wrong, and wrong again. He ssssteals the strap he seeks to elevate… but we remember, Broken Boy. We remember.
Grace shrugs, raising a brow.
Grace King: Yeah, I don’t know what he meant by salary. I’m a novelist. I’d *love* to find out where my salaried novelist job is, because that sounds like a sweet deal. We don’t have hospital bills because we can’t *go* to hospitals. We have to figure out other ways to try and make things work, and it’s not cheap or easy.
He taps his temple, points to the Legion, and then slowly looks to Belle.
Lab Rat King: I’ve told you and the mad masses already, Sonorous Silver. I am War. I am violence, personified. If any bold, bloody bastard desires to prove they are a disciple of true bloodlust, they will come for me… and as I have done since I broke Baltimore’s Champion over my knee, I will take any challenge, anywhere, any hour, lest my battling blood go sour.
His eyes return to Mitch again, his fingers tightening on the red strap draped over his shoulder.
Lab Rat King: No need to crawl around in the dark… sssskittering and THIEVING. THEY NEED ONLY ASK… AND I WILL GLADLY GRIND THEM TO DUST BETWEEN MY TEETH TO FEED THE LEGION’S HUNGER FOR TRUE!! CARNAGE!!
The Legion’s clambering noise rises under his voice in a fever between cheering and jeering.
Mitch Heart: There you fucking go again. I said I was wrong. I said I was sorry. I should have talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions and letting shit spiral from that. I own that. But you keep calling me ‘boy’ and a fucking liar and your wife keeps shitting on me. You took something you know rubs me raw and mocked me for it for everyone to see. You assumed things of me that I would never fucking do. Why am I the only one apologizing here?
He snorts, eye flaring up, his eased mood starting to visibly go hot again. He also sounds significantly hurt.
Mitch Heart: Yeah, you got me. I needed the money. But if you think that’s the only reason I wanted it you’re out of your mind. If that’s all I wanted, any title would do. Shit, I could be doing anything if that’s all I wanted, stuff that doesn’t involve an hours long commute. But I want to be here, doing this, for this belt, because I fucking believe in it. Judge on me all you want, but making this division and this title the best it can be is something I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on it, and I’d want that even if there wasn’t an extra dime involved. But there is, and sure, I’ll cop to the fact that the champion’s purse would really help me out- then and still. Guilty as charged.
Grace King: Whether or not you knew you were wrong when you said those things in your promotion, we have a right to clarify the truth for the sake of the Legion. They deserve to know our honest situation as much as they know yours.
King snorts softly, a bull pacing behind a fence.
Lab Rat King: He doesn’t understand the severity of what he’s done… the barrier he breached. He is not the only creature slow to trust… and that trust is precarious, always swaying on the edge of death. Words cannot mend what has been broken… only action. Only time.
He lifts his head, grinding his teeth behind his mask.
Lab Rat King: I have no proof you would not transgress further than you already have… your words are empty. If that ssssstings you… Meet me in the cage of cords, between the steel and sky. Show me you can still speak my language.
Mitch Heart: Fine. And I’ll sweeten the pot. If I lose? I’ll stand if I can. I’ll put my hands behind my back. And you can freely take as many pounds of flesh from me as you want. Well, what’s left of it afterwards, anyway. Would that make us square?
King snarls, raking his hand across the plate of his title belt.
Lab Rat King: I’m sick of your self-destruction. Your mmmmasochism. If you think that’s what I wwwwant from you, you’re still not LISTENING.
He simmers himself, growling low in his throat.
Lab Rat King: I told you what I’m aching for, right at the beginning. I told you. If you lose… if you fall to my feet, when your Act of Defiance fails… I want you to Get. Back. Up.
There’s a malicious smirk under his mask.
Lab Rat King: And try. Again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN.
Mitch Heart: That’s it? That’s what you want?
His smirk, unknown, slowly matches his opponent’s.
Mitch Heart: Easy peasy.
Belle looks between the two and then smiles to the camera.
Belle Silva: Well there you have it folks! The stage has been set for the Ultraviolent Title to be defended. The Lab Rat King as champion but will he walk out STILL the champion? Mitch Heart. A challenger like no other tests his drive against a champion who has yet to lose a one on one match. This is going to be a match that will forever remain in our minds as what the UV Division is all about! Dearest Legion, thank you SO much for making this all possible and we’ll see you all at Act of Defiance!
With that “She’s a Genius” by Jet rings out and the cameras come to a close.