Chapter 1: Prologue
“I don’t like them up there Cole, this is too dangerous.” Jerry the King Lawler said his voice progressively growing in octaves.
“I see what you mean King! That scaffolding has to be over twenty-five feet in the air, they're not only risking their careers but their lives as well!” Michael Cole exclaimed, his voice teetering with the two figures.
“What are you two blabbing about now? This is great! Our champion is putting on a great show and personifying sports entertainment.” JBL snidely remarked, completely unphased by the physical harm the situation implied.
Upon said scaffolding were the intellectual savior of the unwashed masses, Damien Sandow, still in his trademark blue robe. On the other side was the current World Heavyweight Champion Alberto Del Rio, in his normal wrestling attire. The scaffolding they were on was not even a foot wider than they were. Just behind Damien, one half of a screaming audience. Behind Del Rio, the titantron.
This war had only began four weeks ago, but it had already formed into something truly callous.
The first encounter resulted in a win for Del Rio. But Damien had proven to be relentless. As the proceeding weeks came and went, the intellectual savior constantly interjected himself into the matches of the champion by taunting said champion with the Money in the Bank briefcase. Most of these interference's resulted in a loss for Del Rio. The champion was unencumbered however, because he dealt out his revenge in the form of assaults backstage.
Each week the encounters grew more and more violent until it reached new levels the week before this current one. Damien had been walking in the parking lot during one of his musing sessions. It was abruptly interrupted when a million dollar car came roaring his way. Swiftly he jumped out of the way, and the car had sped off before he could retaliate. So the Raw directly after that week, the current week, Alberto Del Rio came out to give his weekly monologue about being World Heavyweight Champion.
Damien would have none of that.
The Mexican aristocrat sauntered down to the ring, brash and egotistical as ever. It wasn't long though before a forearm came from behind and pelted him in the head. Damien, so enraged from the attack last week, didn't even care to remove his robe before he made his move.
After the champion was knocked down, he was immediately lifted up again and thrown into the barricade, inches away from the WWE fans. A flurry of punches fell upon his brow as Damien vented a weeks worth of anger on him. Alberto quickly grew desperate and aimed for the easiest weak spot he could see at the time.
“A low blow, what a dirty move.” Michael Cole commented.
“A dirty move!?! This mad man just came down and attacked our champion out of nowhere, Alberto should do whatever it takes to defend himself.” JBL retorted, which lead to his broadcast colleagues sighing deeply.
The champ was on the run. Still disoriented from the blows to the head. He jumped off the ramp leading back up to the backstage, and went over to the soundboard. Damien, slowly recovering from the damage to his nether region, tentatively followed behind him.
Over by the soundboard Alberto came up with a brilliant plan.
“Alberto, is he climbing the set?” Jerry asked astonished.
“He is! He thinks that Damien can’t climb after that low blow.”
“It’s genius Michael, Our world champion is putting his brain to good use.”
Standing atop the scaffolding, the champion gave a pompous wink to the audience but directed it mostly to his pursuer. The intellectual savior smirked behind his grimace.
‘That’s your fatal flaw simpleton, so very short sighted.’ Damien thought as he looked at position Alberto was in.
Sure he was out of the saviors reach, but there was only one way down. Finally making it to the base of the set piece Damien took a few deep breaths in and out. He regained his composure in a matter of seconds and he looked up at the beaming Del Rio. That beam disappeared as soon as Alberto backed up and realized he was trapped.
“Alberto has nowhere else to run. He’s trapped.” Michael said joyfully.
“How can you be so happy? That’s our champion up there!”
“Quiet John, Alberto got himself in this mess now he has to deal with it.”
A few failed attempts to climb up the scaffold, due to still lingering groin pains, Damien began up to finally get to his foe again.
‘He’s probably going to kick you in the head when you get up there. Best course of action would be to grab onto the biggest part of his leg, so he can’t get away, and so I have the most leverage.’ Damien sorted his plan out in his head, ensuring he wasn’t going in blind.
Sure enough the frightened champion attempted to ram his foot down the gullet of the Lord of Literacy. But Damiens’ prediction turned to out to be beneficial as he ducked the kick and grabbed hold on the back of the tibia. The champions distorted the vestibular sense and the height he was at cause him to retreat quickly, scooting back away from the edge. Damien took his time lift himself up and walk over to his enemy, who quickly regained his footing.
“I don’t like them up there Cole, this is too dangerous.” Jerry the King Lawler said his voice progressively growing in octaves.
“I see what you mean King! That scaffolding has to be over twenty-five feet in the air, there not only risking their careers but their lives as well!” Michael Cole exclaimed, his voice teetering with the two figures.
“What are you two blabbing about now? This is great! Our champion is putting on a great show and personifying sports entertainment.” JBL snidely remarked, completely unphased by the physical harm the situation implied.
Fists tossed back and forth between the enemies, both teetering with each blow. Damien dodged the last punch by Del Rio and quickly thumbed him in eyes. The Mexican aristocrat reeled in agony, temporarily blinded and vulnerable. Damien lunged taking the opportunity he needed. Del rio was quick though and he sidestepped the intellectual savior. Teetering on the edge he turned around, only to be greeted by two golden feet.
Damien was launched off the platform and directly into the titantron causing an electrical eruption.
It took an hour of the show to sort the the mess. The crowd was in a tizzy and you could of sworn to the idea that the commentators were having a seizure at their table. But the rescue paramedics couldn’t find the Damien anywhere.
Twilight Sparkle slept soundly next to her number one assistant, Spike. She wanted to stay up late that night to study something about bipedal mammals, but she figured one night off wouldn’t be too bad. This conclusion of course resulted after Spike took an hour to convince her that she wasn’t going to go stupid if she took one night off.
Both breathed quietly and contently as absolutely nothing could go wrong.
Until an over two hundred pound creature came flying in on top of them.
With a shriek Twilight sat up, followed by her assistant. The fright was enough to scare Spike in to hiccups. And with a single hiccup he sent Damien away, engulfed in a green flame, not a word coming from the human.
“Spike.”
“Twilight?” Spike hiccuped.
“We are going to get the girls and go to Canterlot.”
“In the morning?” He hiccuped again.
“In the morning.” And with that Twilight magiced a glass of water from the base floor kitchen and levitated over to Spike, ending his hiccups.
They both went to sleep undisturbed by the rest of the night.
Damien had no time to compute the image of a pony and a baby dragon, as his series of frankly unrealistic events continued. Next thing he knew, he was dropped from the air onto a comfortable if lumpy bed. Looking around he saw that the was very. . . Regal in design, and obviously belonging to royalty. He then noted the dark atmosphere and concluded that it was night.
“If it’s dark then shouldn’t someone be occupying the bed?”
“Well, actually somepony is.” Damien quickly turned, bowing his head and profusely apologizing. grimacing from his injuries.
“It’s quite alright, but how did you get here?”
“Actually I was wondering if--” Damien stopped as he lifted his head and actually saw Celestia.
“Hi.”
Damien proceeded to black out. . . Well he would've, if he wasn’t so damn fascinated.
“You’re a talking equine.”
“Indeed I am.”
“How are you speaking?”
“By contorting certain sounds into organized language.”
“Of course. . . Of course that’s what. Where am I?”
“Equestria.”
“Oh that place north of. . .”
“Actually it’s west of the Gryphon Kingdom.” Celestia corrected.
“Very well than. And you’re the ruler of this, Equestria.”
“Well deduced human.” At this point her words were enunciated very well.
“I am the intellectual savior of the unwashed masses, t’was childs play.”
“Yes I’m sure it was.”
“Why are you talking so slow?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you dare say that I’m stupid.”
“What makes you think I'd say that?”
“I’ll have you know that I have an I.Q. of 152, and my family created the most popular dictionary in the world and--”
“I’m sure that’s all well and good but it’s shooshy time.”
“Shooshy ti--”
“Shooooooosh.” Celestia whispered, her hoof against his mouth. She then placed her head back on her pillow and went to sleep.
Damien just blinked at the reaction.
‘Either I am in a drug induced coma and I’m experiencing an elaborate hallucination, or I just got outsmarted by a pony. . . What ignoramus put LSD in my transfusion tube?’
