Honor Amongst Strangers (AV Club)

Sun Nov 08, 2020 10:26 pm

It is that time of year, when the leaves have given up their precarious hold on life, to smother the ground with their decaying bodies. The long hours of the day are not so long anymore, as sunset creeps upon the 9 to 5 crowd before they’ve managed to trade in their work badges and hairnets for a comfortable chair and a glass of bourbon. The children are called inside, as worried parents watch the darkening sky with wary eyes. The jack-o-lanterns leftover from Halloween, disregarded by their inattentive owners, sag on their doorsteps, their once bright expressions now twisted into painful displays of rot.

It’s the time of year when the average, sane people of Suburban America worry about who or what could be lurking past their white picket fences. They peer out of widows, peeking from behind drawn curtains with squinted eyes, telling themselves that they live in a safe neighborhood. That there’s no meaning or purpose behind their irrational fears. That the strangers in the darkness are merely a figment of their imagination.

They are wrong.

The set-up of this particular suburban street is so stereotypical that it could be in your own hometown. It could be your neighborhood. It could be the street just outside the safe circumference of your glowing security light.

The woman who walks along the painted line at the center of the street has no concern for the little people who watch from inside their straw houses. She holds no regard for the rules of society created to bind her to some imagined morality. With a hood pulled over her long dark hair, her violet eyes peering out from beneath it, she walks at a smooth and methodical pace. The cloak hanging from her shoulders brushes against the rough surface of the pavement, it’s silk material creating the illusion that she floats along the ground. When she begins to speak, sharpened teeth glisten between blood-red lips.

Valeria: Honor...to hold something or someone in high regard. To show respect. To cherish something of value.

Another scene, similar to the previous one, where a lone figure avoids the roads and sidewalks, preferring instead to to kick up the dead foliage that swirls about his feet. In the shadow of night that envelops him, one can barely make out the children’s swing set that rests nearby. As it’s chains clank in the evening breeze, he maintains his focus on what lies ahead. His blonde hair is combed back from his face and tied behind his head, allowing anyone who gazes upon him to see the disturbing redness in the irises of his eyes. His black shirt is loose-fitting, and ripples against his body in waves, propelled by the chill Autumn wind. He raises his hand, running a silver full-finger claw ring against his jawline.

Valentine: Honor...an adherence to what is right or to a strict standard of conduct. To follow a code. To stay true to an expected moral compass.

A third scene, this one along a narrow path of pavement that runs parallel to a fenced off yard. The man who walks the path has shorter black hair, but eyes that share a similar hue to that of the previous man. He wears a buttoned-up vest that covers his torso, each side of its deep red collar meeting at the center of his chest in a V. With his every step, the man runs his fingers along the planks of the wooden fence, unconcerned with the idea that someone may consider it their private property.

Ambrosius: Honor...a rare opportunity that brings pride or pleasure. A privilege. The chance of a lifetime.

Then back to the woman, her cloak now drawn open to reveal the black leather corset and tights that squeeze against her pleasing, feminine form. She puts one foot in front of the other with delicate precision, yet her every graceful movement seems to come naturally and without deep thought.

Valeria: Project: Honor...a place where competition is held in high regard. Where respect is given in return for displays of athletic prowess and a mastery of violence. Where the golden rewards for such skills are cherished.

The first man now passes by a children’s slide, which once occupied by happy and carefree little cherubs is now lonely and vacant. His sharpened smile in the presence of such a childlike place is unnerving, to the point where any parent observing him would feel the hairs on the back of their neck stand at attention.

Valentine: Project: Honor...where the standard of conduct is based upon settling issues inside of a 20 by 20 foot ring. Where a code of ethics is meant to keep natural combatants restrained. Where individual morality is tossed aside for glory. For victory. For the pain one person can inflict upon another.

The second man continues to make his way along the sidewalk, his fingertips catching the open space between each delicately painted section of wood. He moves in and out of the orangish spotlights created by interspersed street lights hanging overhead. If the residents of the neighborhood silently question the purpose of his presence, he shows little concern.

Ambrosius: Project: Honor…a rare place that provides pleasure to the masses through the pain of its patrons. A place where only the best among us are privileged to roam. A place where our deepest desires and darkest fantasies are allowed to live and breath.

The woman is still gliding along the street, grasping the edges of her cloak in both of her clenched fists. Her head is slightly tilted forward, but her eyes remain focused ahead, dangerous yet inviting.

Valeria: Many groups have come forward with the announcement of the new Tag Team Championships in Project: Honor. Some of them are familiar competitors, building upon their established legacies. Others are new to the scene, hoping their performance in the forthcoming tournament will shine a bright spotlight upon them. There are even some, it would seem, who are using this as nothing more than a punchline to the joke that is their lives. At first glance, some may look at the way we present ourselves or the lifestyle we choose, and mindlessly place us in that third category. Rest assured my darlings, we are not a joke, and we strive to shatter preconceived notions.

Valentine grasps hold of a metal bar on a Merry-Go-Round, and sends it spinning in the darkness with a simple shove. It rotates with a loud creak as he leaves it behind, crossing the sidewalk that lines the park to emerge under the street lights overhead.

Valentine: We’ve embraced who we are, and in doing so, we accept the taunts and mocking claims our future opponents will no doubt hurl carelessly in our direction. With that acceptance also comes the realization that our chosen path brings with it certain...advantages. For us, being bloodthirsty is not just a character trait, it’s a way of life. We were made for a place like Project: Honor, and we will scratch, claw, and bite our way to the top in order to prove that we belong.

Ambrosius reaches the end of the fence, as it wraps around the corner to secure its owners precious property from the strangers in the darkness. He crosses to his left, entering the street, much to the relief of the suburban father who watched suspiciously from his cracked doorway.

Ambrosius: Chasing storms, dropping a sick beat, admiring a Viking lifestyle, and translating individual success into a prospective team are all interesting approaches. We will overlook none of you as we enter this tournament, but we will test you. We will test your will. We will test your resolve. We will test your dedication to your chosen path and measure it against our own. Inevitably, we will find these wanting.

Valentine joins Valeria to her left, as Ambrosius joins her on the right. Together, they continue to own the street, walking forward as the lights blink at them from either side.

Valeria: We are The Night Stalkers. We are the Children of the Night. We are the lost and the damned. We are the unwanted strangers who give you cause to lock your doors after dark. We are all of those things one might consider cliché, but we take those tired motifs and give them new life. We bring them to Project: Honor, to the Tag Team Championship Tournament, and we bring them first and foremost, to American Grime.

Valentine: Aurora Ray and Euan Hill, who consider themselves to be outcasts, will look across the ring and begin to question that assumption. They were raised up from the gutter, dragged from the bottom of the barrel, and shown a path to redemption by their mysterious “Father”. Yet how did they reward the man who bestowed them with these gifts? With bitter betrayal and thoughtless contempt.

Ambrosius: They chose to forsake their creator in favor of a smooth-talking Lazarus Arjen. Already they show their confusion, their indecision, and their abandonment of one path in favor of another that may have seemed brighter in the heat of the moment. Now they will have to face a team that is wholly dedicated to their way of life. Although, they should not despair…

Without immediate explanation or reason, the street lights that line The AV Club on either side begin to flicker and fade. One by one, they are extinguished, and the illumination of the unnamed street grows dimmer.

Valeria: When you fall in defeat to Ambrosius and Valentine, when they show the world everything they are capable of and you once again question the decisions in your lives, we promise to accept you for who you are. We will welcome you into our warm embrace and finally give you the meaning and purpose you so obviously desire.

Valentine: We can show you how to harness the lust for blood and pain that is stagnating deep in your black souls. We can show you how to shake off the yoke of society’s standards and expectations. We can show you that there is no need for men like Lazarus Arjen or your Father. Don’t be a pawn amongst the sheep, Euan. Don’t be someone who needs the approval of a leader, Aurora. Be the predators that feast upon those sheep. Be the individuals that even Arjen cannot control.

Ambrosius: Be one of us, if you are truly worthy. We can show you the way. Of course, that comes after your defeat. Apologies, but there is no other option.

The last of the street lights flickers, crafting a strobe-like effect on the three individuals who have come to a sudden stop in the center of the road. Its desperate attempt to hold on to its last vestiges of strength eventually gives out, finally plunging the suburban street into complete and total darkness. Although they can no longer be seen, the voices of The AV Club continue to ring out from the void.

Valeria: I’ll be damned if I don’t just adore this time of year.

Valentine: I thank Christianity every day for condemning the season of the witch. They only made it easier for people like us to claim it as their own.

Ambrosius: I still can’t believe we missed Bloodbath. We might just have to have another one...

Valeria: All in due time, my dear. Right now I’m simply ravenous.

Ambrosius: Mmm...I could go for a bite…

Valentine: You’re insatiable...both of you.

The voices begin to fade, an indication that the three members of the team have begun to depart, the darkness accepting them as if they had always belonged within it.

Valentine: I can only imagine their questions right now. “Are they vampires?”

Ambrosius: Maybe…

Valentine: “Are they freaks?”

Ambrosius: Seemingly…

Valentine: “Are they contenders?”

Ambrosius: Probably…

Valeria: Don’t forget the most important one…“Are they dangerous?”

Ambrosius & Valentine: Definitely.