"Blood Soaked Serenade" Proving Grounds 8

March 1st, 2002

The rain clouds had finally broken. It was mid afternoon when the rain would finally stop over the city of New Orleans, Louisiana.  The sun would now finally show it’s face, shining down on the bungalow that rested comfortably on the outskirts of the suburban area of the city. A nice community, picket fences surrounding every property - all lawns perfectly manicured and the houses all painted in vibrant, bright colors. This particular house was painted yellow, but due to age the paint wasn’t as bright as others. Aging has weathered away some of it’s life, but it still looked prim and proper. Inside of the home was as you would expect. Wood flooring throughout the ground floor, probably laminate. Two couches in the living room surrounding a television screen. A rug laid out underneath the couches and coffee table. The coffee table had a couple of cups and typical stuff laying on top of it.

The living room leads through a double-door frame into the dining room. The doors were swung open and natural light flooded into the space from the windows. The open concept dining room was attached to the kitchen, also being lit by sunlight at the moment. The laminate flooring followed into the dining room but stopped at the kitchen, giving way to white tiles with grey texturing. Inside of the dining room was a round kitchen table, and a doorway that led to the backyard of the house. This home belonged to Daniel and Sophie Arjen, a Dutch couple who had just recently immigrated to New Orleans with their son, Lazarus. Daniel was an engineer by trade, shifting his field to petroleum and found a secure job in New Orleans, one that would give him and his family a comfortable life. Sophie was a standard retail worker, finding a job at a local diner after relocating. Lazarus was just three when the family immigrated, and now was four - quickly approaching his fifth birthday.

The Arjen family wasn’t as perfect as everyone assumed. It was a well hidden secret that the marriage of Daniel and Sophie wasn’t working. The two worked opposite hours, rarely ever seeing one another and when they did it was usually arguing and bickering. Daniel was stuck on the night shift at his plant, only having to be awake after the time of Three pm during the week to tend to Lazarus after school until Sophie returned home from work at six. Today being Friday was one of those days. Daniel woke up just in time to see the car belonging to their neighbor a few houses down, stop in front of their walkway. Lazarus was always driven to and from school by this family friend and today was no exception. Daniel rolled over, checking a message on his Nokia 7650 phone; a message from his co-worker, Brianna.

Daniel was seeing Brianna, a co-worker on his night shift, and it was something that Sophie found out not too long ago. Quietly the two put their marriage on hold, agreeing to live together for Lazarus’ sake until it was a proper time for Daniel to leave. Lazarus was the world to them both, and they did everything they could to shield their problems from him. When he heard the sound of the door opening and little Lazarus running into the house, closing the door after himself, Daniel rolled out of bed and made his way into the living room area where he found Lazarus, already removing his backpack and placing it on the couch.

“How was school, Laz?” Daniel asked, moving through the living room into the dining room where he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He picked up a pack of cigarettes, slipping one out of the pack and placing the filtered end into his mouth. His hand moved from the pack to the lighter that sat nearby, turning the sparkwheel and hitting the fork with his thumb to ignite the lighter, lighting up the cigarette. He held it there for a moment, sucking in the smoke before - in one quick motion - releasing the fork with his thumb, and placing the lighter back down onto the table.

Laz wouldn’t answer, the child was preoccupied unzipping the backpack he had thrown onto the couch. Daniel looked away from his cigarette in time to see Laz running toward him, a children's book clutched in both hands. Lazarus stopped at his father’s side, holding the book to him. He didn’t have to say a word, Daniel knew what he wanted. Lazarus loved when his father would read to him, already knowing at a young age that his father wasn’t home at night. Daniel took the book from his son, placing it down onto the table. Before he could turn to pick Lazarus up to sit his child on his lap, Lazarus turned - moving back into the living room where he picked up ‘his’ cup from the table.

‘His’ cup was different from the glassware Daniel and Sophie used. Lazarus’ cup was red plastic, different from the glass that his parents used. It was left on the coffee table the night prior, empty after his drink of water. This was routine, come home to grab ‘his’ cup and refill with water.

It happened that quickly. Lazarus went back into the living room for his cup. Daniel placed the children’s book onto the table, opening to the first page. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, placing it into the ashtray. The door to the back door swung inward, narrowly avoiding Daniel as he sat with his back to it. An unknown figure pushed open the door quickly, pointing the barrel of his handgun into the house and proceeded to pull the trigger three times in rapid succession.

The sudden, thunder cracking sound of the shots filled the house, startling little Lazarus. He jumped, dropping his cup to the floor - which Lazarus wouldn’t hear thanks to the momentary ear-numbing sensation. And as quickly as it happened, the man fled. Lazarus just saw his father now slumped onto the table, his head turned to face him. He was motionless. His eyes open, but lifeless. Lazarus slowly approached his father - unsure of everything at this moment. As he stood next to him, Laz reached up as high as he could - giving his father a little shove, which was all the child could muster. “Daddy?”

His voice was trembling, but his father didn’t answer. Lazarus tried once more which still garnered no response. Figuring he was just sleeping, Lazarus climbed onto his lap, doing his best to shift his body into a position where he could sit. It wasn’t comfortable, but this is all he knew to do.

There Lazarus sat with his back against his father’s chest, weighted down by his father’s body. Blood beginning to transfer from Daniel onto Lazarus. Lazarus could only rest his head on his father’s arm that was still outstretched onto the table. And that is where Lazarus remained until a concerned neighbor came to investigate the noise ...

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“What is it that makes me the way I am? Why do I have a penchant for violence? Why do I have a fixation for brutality?

Maybe it’s the influence of tragedy that has consumed my life. Maybe I’m the product of a broken home; where my step-father would assault me in more ways than one, my mother turning tricks just so she could get enough to score and add another track in her arm. Maybe it’s the exposure to the everyday struggle of growing up in the slums of New Orleans. Maybe it’s all of the above...

More importantly, it’s because … I like it.

I think we all have a little sadist in us, that’s why we’re in this profession right? Because we get to beat up other, like-minded individuals, with no repercussions at all. I could have easily stayed in New Orleans, staining the pavement of Bourbon Street red with the blood with all of the vagrant’s and derelict that fill the city streets on a given night - but the repercussions lay in the rehabilitation of convicted assault and battery felons. The repercussions lay in the form of someone cornering you in the wrong alleyway and leaving your brains covering the sidewall of a building.  All of us have that little hint of sadist in us, that is why we’re here and this industry is our safe haven.

But then you have those individuals who are only here for the violence. People like myself, Aurora and Euan. To us, trivial things like wins, losses, tournaments, championships -- that doesn’t mean anything to us. Our goal is chaos, torture and pain. We want to inflict as much damage as humanly possible. That is the only thing that matters to us.

So the fact that you’ve come to find me days after I lost to Warstein, trying to pick my brain - to see if I’ve buried myself in regret and hard feelings because I lost my first Project Honor match to Warstein is laughable. I don’t care about Warstein or that match. He’ll brag and I will roll my eyes. ‘Experience this, living legend that’ - whatever. The fact is; at Proving Ground Seven I stayed true to my word. After all of Warstein’s premonitions of burning the company down and his promises of some big, bad end of days at his hands fell on deaf ears and turned out to be false, I kept my word when I said Project: Death would leave a message.

The Father was that message. Leaving him broken and bloody was just the beginning for myself, Aurora and Euan.

Wins and losses do not matter to us. All that matters is that we leave bodies at our feet. That is what will be remembered, not some useless gathering of numbers that some people spend their entire careers trying to perfect - only for them to be forgotten about the moment they hang up the boots. No one will remember the umpteen championships you won, your win-loss record, or any of that nonsense. What people will remember is if you were to leave bodies strewn about the place like you’re creating a sadistic version of the Sistine Chapel. People remember the bloodshed. It’s the shock and awe factor that people are drawn to, not titles. So trust me when I say Project: Death and our mission will be remembered for the lifetime of this company, and onward.

Elena DeDraca is someone who understands our mission, to a certain extent. She understands the bloodlust, and surrounds herself with like minded individuals. But she also dips a toe into the waters of wanting to be remembered as being the best. She joins all of these other sheep in the industry following the Shepherd who wears the big gold belt. Following with the thought that capturing that illusive championship will lead to immortality. I’ll leave that mentality to Noah, who everyone loves to bring up simply because I have his endorsement. Doesn’t mean I follow his footsteps. Doesn’t mean I share his ideas. It was an easy target for Warstein to aim for when he put out his little video against me, asif it would somehow hit me with some force. Say what you will about Noah, guaranteed if he were here those words would have changed. It’s easy to target someone who can’t or won’t acknowledge. But just because he does one thing with his career, doesn’t mean I follow suit.

I set out to forge my own path. My own bloody path. Same with Aurora and Euan. They’re out to forge their own path, far from the Father’s intention.

The three of us are a real family. We don’t limit anyone to who, when, and how we unleash our inner beasts. We don’t try to control one another. Aurora and Euan now have free rein as to who they target and demolish, and I was the one that gave them that option. I was the one that freed them from the Father’s control. I was the one that introduced them to the ideal of a real family. That is something you know about right, Elena? Family. You have your brother - Finn Whelan, who I have heard stories about from Reigner. You have Dickie. You have all of these extensions of yourself, so you know what I mean when I talk of a real family setting. How you would die for those, just like Project: Death would do for one another. You know what I’m saying when I say that there is no control, that everyone is free to carve their name into anyone, and anything they want. You are a lot like us, Elena, and if it wasn’t for that stubborn ‘be the greatest’ mentality that you have - you could have fit in perfectly in this family.

I know all about you, Elena. While you preach your toughness and stay true to your family values, you are just like everyone else in the fact that it is success and gold that fuels your drive. If you’re not real to anyone watching the videos you put out, at least be real to yourself. There was something that brought you out of retirement. There was something that pulled you away from your husband and daughter, and it wasn’t a feeling of boredom. You are still chasing that one big achievement that has eluded you all of your career. You’ve held Women’s championships, tag team, Television and the lot. But the Worlds championship that you’ve always eyed has always slipped through your grasp. I know that is why you gave up the comfortable, insulated, safety of home in Garrison, New York. That is why you packed up your gear to see if this was it. To see if you could shoot your shot in Project: Honor. But we both know that won’t happen, don’t we? Elena DeDraca never shoots the big shot. She settles and aims lower to something that is more realistic. Afraid to really put it all on the line because of the chance of getting put on your ass. Afraid of failure. So you settle, you follow the Shepherd like the good little sheep you are. You follow the path that ultimately leads to the slaughterhouse, but you do so begrudgingly.  

I can sense your frustration coming back being thrown into a situation you never wanted to be - in a tag team match. You went into that match with a lot of frustration, and it showed. You had a bite still, and walked away with a victory. You didn’t dominate, you didn’t show the world that Elena DeDraca was someone to fear, despite all of that frustration and despite even winning the match. You showed that you are still the same Elena Deraca that is afraid to really lash out and become what you could be. And now we find ourselves pitted against one another, and if you think I’m going to be an easy one to roll over; if you think I’m going to be an easy mark for you to re-establish yourself in this industry, then you really haven’t been paying attention. Don’t think for a single, solitary second that any frustration that you still have will be taken out on me - and won’t be met with that same aggression and killer mentality. I know you’ve done your homework on me, because that is who you are. So you know that I welcome the fight that I have a feeling you will bring.

And I know that outside of my family in Project: Death, that I don’t mean shit to nobody especially you. So one would think that if Elena DeDraca had teeth, if she had that killer instinct that is needed for the sheep to rise up and play Judas to the Shepard - she would gnash those teeth at me on Proving Ground Eight. It would be a pretty safe assumption that, after years of attempts, my life would finally end - and it would be at Elena DeDraca’s hands. But, that is not the Elena that we know. The one we know is used to playing second fiddle, to allowing others to have the spotlight and allowing herself to sink into a hole. Despite the big talk, she refuses to let her true self show.

Elena, you need to be shown how to shed your skin and evolve. You need to be shown how to to be as vicious and ruthless as you claim to be. I could show you that way. My family can show you that way. And your first lesson will be when you and I meet in the ring. When I leave your pretty little face bruised, swollen, cut, and bloody - you will realize that you have done this wrong the entire time. When I brutalize you to the point of near disfiguration, I will stop and ask you if you want to be shown the way.

There are two paths you can take, Elena. Stay on the tried and true path that you have followed throughout your entire career that leads to nothing but disappointment in yourself due to settling - ultimately finding your way to the slaughterhouse, ending your career in nothing but mediocrity and forgettable moments.

Or, you can become the person that you claim to be. You can become that vicious killer that will finally leave her mark and be remembered, which - judging by the simple fact that you’ve returned to this industry - is something you want more than anything else. All you need to do is stop hiding. Stop shielding yourself. Stop living in the shadows of your brother and your ‘family’ that you surround yourself with, and become the Horror that you long to become.

The choice is yours, Elena, but I will show you. I can either show how to free you from the chains that bind you, or I can show you to the slaughterhouse.

Either way, rebirth or end, prepare for a bloody serenade from lady death.”