Promo: Chains of Restraint

The cawing of a crow broke through the otherwise heavy silence as the camera panned across crooked slate gravestones, their shadows stretching and mingling amongst the twilight that surrounded them. The large suited figure of Viktor Kriegson stepped into frame, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet etching out a rhythm as he did. His striking gaze moved over to the camera as he weaved between the headstones, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.
“Greg Salazar. The Paragon. Sergeant. So fortuitous that we finally get to meet in the ring.” Viktor turned to face the camera, his hands meeting behind his back “I wish I could say I was surprised… but after our most recent meeting, I was expecting you to come for me.”

A knowing exhale left Viktor as he stood a little taller “I will say, Mr. Salazar, you do have some impressive credentials. You’re a proven big-match performer. Hell, you were a Marine Scout Sniper, and were even the inaugural Conquest Champion… quite the resume, I shan’t lie. You even beat Drago. I fully understand how dangerous you can be… Kronin’s equally dangerous, and his resume is arguably just as respectable, and yet, I beat him clean…”

A short, derisive snort left Viktor as he found the single, gnarled tree within the graveyard to lean against “You do approach things differently to Kronin. You still have that mission mindset. Take your Elite Championship win against Armand von Krauss. The title was always secondary to you, wasn’t it? Your ‘mission’, so to speak, was to remove von Krauss, to take him out. Tell me… when you’re in the ring, do you fight the wrestler in front of you, or is there always one of your self-constructed missions to satisfy?”

Viktor’s hand moved to rest on a nearby headstone as he continued to speak “It’s rather clear that your current mission is to take out the Eternal Grove. I hear you’ve talked about us fighting on too many fronts, that we’re solidifying people against our cause. You’ve seen the same problem that I have. Our understandings of it, however, differ. You see it as a strategic failure. This opposition, Mr. Salazar, is proof. It is proof that the Grove is succeeding in its goals to change CWF. Before the Age of Monsters, the CWF was rife with schoolyard infighting and petty grievances. Now, as they become our enemies, they discuss standing shoulder-to-shoulder against us. We’ve angered quite a few people… Bad Company, Dynasty Era, The Upstarts, Father Nathan… If it takes all of you standing together to feel safe against four people, what does that say about the Eternal Grove?”

“One thing I will grant you though…” Viktor smiles, standing himself up straight before walking back towards the camera “...you do understand the Age of Monsters better than most. Whilst your interpretation of us bringing out the worst in people isn’t quite right, your claim that some within the CWF are already monsters who simply hold themselves back is a lot closer to the truth. You seem to include yourself there, Mr. Salazar. Do those chains of yours really make you virtuous? Or are you afraid of what might happen if you embrace that inner monster of yours? The Paragon you show the world, the monster you chain within, they are both in you. Yet… you condemn our ways, even warning us to be careful what we wish for, whilst using yourself to prove our philosophy. I had you down as many things, Mr. Salazar, but a hypocrite? That was not on my list. Speaking of being careful with wishes…”

Viktor’s face darkens, his grin becoming more menacing “You should really have taken your own advice and been more careful with what you wished for. That interference in your championship match? You dared The Grove to interfere against Father Nathan. Your wish was granted, and look what happened: you lost your title. Granted, crowning Nathan wasn’t planned… but that makes this irony all the sweeter!” 

Taking a moment to let that hang in the air, Viktor’s face steels, the smile retreating into his usual cold, stoic expression. “From what I know of you, Greg… you’ll likely see me as no more than another objective on your conquest to defeat the Eternal Grove. To me, Greg, you are a consequence of my actions, one I will happily take accountability for. You’ve warned us about fighting a war on multiple fronts, and that tells me exactly where your mind is. Your mind is on this war, whilst mine… mine’s not on Father Nathan, that Elite Title, or even Bad Company… no, mine’s on our match, Greg. Just The Paragon and The Hound, standing across from each other in the ring… you’ve spent your whole life completing missions, Greg. But each mission has an endpoint. My hunts, however, only end when someone cannot continue.”

Viktor’s piercing gaze stares directly into the middle of the camera as it fades to black.

-------

RP: Empty Trees and Empty Tables

Different. Viktor couldn’t quite put his finger on it as each footstep moved him deeper into the grizzled, gnarled woodlands he’d visited so many times before, but something felt different. Everything looked exactly how he remembered it: twisted branches, exposed roots, beams of mystical moonlight fighting their way down to the forest floor. The air somehow felt lighter as his icy-blue eyes looked around, taking the scene in, as if something wasn’t there. The Hound continued to walk, his hands buried in his overcoat pockets as he continued onwards, his mind wandering in a different direction: Warzone. 

He hadn’t regretted interfering two shows ago. Hell, he still didn’t. Both Father Nathan and Greg Salazar were obstacles in the way of both The Eternal Grove and the Age of Monsters. Granted, Father Nathan was a bigger obstacle, but both had played their part. He’d even been keeping an eye on clips of that suplex that had sent both Father Nathan and The Paragon crashing through a ladder. “It’s gone viral” Rhiannon’s voice echoed through his mind, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. An indignant chuckle left Viktor’s mouth as he turned his head: he’d gone in wanting to cause damage, to remove obstacles, and had potentially helped create bigger ones in crowning a champion. 

The Hound’s head shook a little as the irony of it all sunk in. Father Nathan hadn’t exploited the chaos for his gain, nor had he stolen the championship. He’d survived Greg, he’d survived the Eternal Grove, and he’d survived him… and amongst all the chaos, there was no celebration. Father Nathan had gone to check on Greg after the match.

By the philosophy he’d built himself, only the strongest would survive in this new world the Age of Monsters had brought forth. Father Nathan had always stood opposed to it, but… he still survived. He’d fought alongside Kronin Reinhardt as their reinforcements arrived to help force the Grove back. Viktor had punished him time and again for opposing the Grove, and yet… Father Nathan O’Connell had not come out of it all weaker, quite the opposite. He’d come out with greater influence.

Finding a tree-stump, Viktor sat himself down and closed his eyes, trying to find focus as thought after thought after thought raced through his head. Viktor hadn’t exposed Father Nathan’s weaknesses… he’d helped prove his strength.

Viktor’s vicious growl echoed off the trees as his fist slammed against the trunk beneath him. How could someone so opposed to the Grove’s philosophy come out stronger? Just the thought of what that man stood for sent fresh waves of anger through Viktor’s chest, and yet… Nathan had survived…
Rising to his feet again, Viktor’s prowl continued, each footstep padding a little harder against the floor as his mind tried to distract itself, only to land on what happened last Warzone. Dynasty Era. Fucking Dynasty Era. He and Drago had simply… lost. Their strategy had worked, they had understood Dynasty Era perfectly. They’d goaded the pair into trying to protect each other, trying to make Eoin and Elizabeth predictable, no… they became predictable. Father Nathan had forced both of them back as they tried to come in to save their spouse. And yet… It ended up being what cost Annwn the match. Launching himself into the ring to break up the pin, Eoin’s hand wrapping around his leg with inches left, being dragged out of the ring as Father Nathan’s third count hit the mat. It hadn’t left Viktor’s mind since that night, lingering alongside a single question: Was he good enough when Drago needed him? The answer was simple. No.
Taking in a deep breath, Viktor’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he stopped. Exploiting Dynasty Era’s protectiveness of each other was his idea, and it had bitten them in the ass. His attention turned to what little he could see of the moon through the woodland’s canopy. Protectiveness, predictability… were they really weaknesses? 

A breeze bustled the leaves around Viktor as he admired the moon. Viktor’s eyes squinted slightly in thought as more of the moon came through as the treetops swayed gently. The Moon… it was as predictable as they came. Each night, it was there. It was not weak, however, not in the slightest. Finally looking away, Viktor’s hands met behind his back, his gaze becoming distant as his head tilted. Predictability could be manipulated, sure, but it could also provide the strength needed to survive. Thoughts of Rhiannon filled his mind as he followed that logic, but with a quick shake of his head, he pushed them back to where he’d tried locking them up.
“Era’s end… I believed we would contribute to that…” Viktor whispered “...we were to pass the Age of Monsters’ Judgement on Dynasty Era, but…” The roles had been reversed. Had the judgement been wrong? No… it had been shifted onto him and Drago. Samael had them on the right path, that was not, nor was it ever, in question. Shivers coursed down Viktor’s spine at the implications of it. Had he really confused purpose with certainty?
One foot fell in front of the other as he resumed walking:  “Let us look at the cost…” he whispered, hands wringing together behind him as he went “It is working, there is no doubt of that… we are creating something different because we existed, but… Bad Company, Father Nathan, Dynasty Era, the Upstarts… all are standing against the Eternal Grove… we must be doing something ri-”
Viktor’s thoughts were cut off as something hit him, harder than it ever had done before: Silence. Stepping into the woodland grove he’d come to know so well, it looked exactly the same as he’d last left it, but it was missing. That pull, that connection, it was gone. Stopping in its centre, he found… emptiness. Pausing, his eyes slowly took in every aspect of the grove, each patch of grass, every bush, every etched tree trunk. It felt empty. No pull, no connection.
Closing his eyes, Viktor searched for that familiar connection to Arawn, to Annwn. Nothing. His eyes scrunched tighter as he pushed harder, reaching out for something, anything… nothing. Pushing harder, Viktor reached for something, anything… still, nothing. Opening his eyes, he saw things exactly how they were. Each twisted tree was just that, a tree. Each blade of grass was just grass, each leaf just a leaf…
“My king?” Viktor whispered, his words carried by the breeze that passed through. Upon receiving no response, Viktor repeated himself a little louder, but once again, his words carried off in the wind, falling upon ears that were no longer here, at least tonight. 

Viktor’s eyebrows pulled together as he went to lean against a tree, lines forming between his eyes as his lips thinned. This… it had never happened before. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt nothing… 

The vibration of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of his thoughts. Taking it from his pocket, an eyebrow raised as he saw the notification on his screen. An Instagram Reel shared by Rhiannon. With a long inhale through his nose, Viktor smirked slightly. It was getting rather late, maybe time to head back.

His ride home was filled with thoughts of what had been left unsaid. Neither of them had discussed what was going on. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d spent the entirety of last match exploiting emotional attachment, and that’s exactly what was developing here. He’d always found violence and death easy, and yet… defining what he and Rhiannon had become seemed his most difficult challenge. He couldn’t help but chuckle. What did that make him? Weaker? Stronger? Human? None sat right with the Hound, but this was the one uncertainty he could get answers to. 

His eyes narrowed as his bike rolled into his parking spot: their apartment light was off. She was usually still up reading at this time. Something balled up in Viktor’s stomach as he made his way inside. 

Viktor’s brow furrowed as he got to their apartment’s door, a steely resolve colouring his features as he noticed it left ajar. Its hinges creaked slightly as he quietly stalked inside, each footfall measured and carefully placed. His gaze darted between each blind corner and doorway for any sign of movement. His furniture was overturned, the once perfectly placed artwork now hung crooked against the walls. Glass crunched underfoot, causing the Hound to freeze, his ears straining for the slightest inkling someone was there. Once he was satisfied, he moved quickly and quietly through to her bedroom: no Rhiannon. Bathroom: nothing, Kitchen: the same. As he moved back into the living room, his stomach clenched as his gaze fell on one specific thing: Rhiannon’s latest romantasy novel left discarded on the floor. Picking it up, Viktor cursed under his breath as torn pages slipped free from their binding, its spine broken and ripped. The silence that hung around the apartment was deafening as a folded piece of paper fell from between the pages. Placing the book back down, Viktor’s hands gently curled around the folded paper, before opening it.

“We have your Persephone, Hound of Hades. We’ll be in contact about her return soon.”

His fists clenched as he reached out for Arawn: nothing. Pale-blue eyes scoured the destroyed apartment once more: the broken furniture, Rhiannon’s broken book, the now crushed note within his fist. This wasn’t Arawn’s hunt to direct - this was Viktor’s.