Darkness is coming

[The dusty fluroscent tube flickers for just a second, illuminating a black figure, hood over his head, face to the ground with an evil smile.]

Death:There will be no more carefree laughter only silence ever after for you Styles and Punk.

[Total darkness now.]

Death:Walking through an empty house, Where this is where the story ends, this is goodbye for you Styles and Punk.

[The flint of a lighter splits the darkness casting a fleeting shadow all around.]

Death:Memories, good days, bad days. They'll be with me always and Styles and Punk will not be able crown your self Tag Team Champions.

[Sparks again, this time just in front of the camera appears a face, black hair drawn over one eye and skin riddled with scars and a scare a cross the other eye. Darkness, then deliberate footsteps, moving away.]

Death:In these old familiar rooms children would play, but now theres only emptiness, nothing to say nothing to do, that is what you will feel Styles and Punk after are match when we beat you in the middle of the ring.

[Now you can't make out or hear anything again apart from very faint breathing and Laughter.]

Death:Knowing me, i will walk throught any thing you throw at me Styles and Punk.

[Suddenly, fast, heavy steps coming towards the camera. A faint pair of hands grabs the camera and pull a dark face into the lens, a dry grin cracking his lips.]

Death:knowing you Styles and Punk you will do any thing you can to beat us but in the end it will not be anof.

[He lets the camera go, you can just see him throwing his hands up and softly sighing.]

Death:There really is nothing you can do to stop us Styles and Punk from taking you out this week.

[More dark, the camera has adjusted enough so you can see some doors but not all the way back to the chair we first saw.]

Death:I like quiet, dark places like this. I imagine its the kind of place that normal people go when they're having a tough time or a bad day, just close their eyes and drift off to a quiet happy place. Relax and count to ten but you Styles and Punk have no idea what i can do.

[Exhaling.]

Death:Aaaahhh .. thats better.

[No sound of breathing or footsteps now, just a voice.]

Death:Again, here, I just want to be very clear with my message to you Styles and Punk you maybe the so called best but you will meet your end this match.

[Footsteps, a door opens.]

Death:Think of this like your mind, clear and open, plenty of space, tidy arrangement, all the different parts of the brain seperate but still one.

[More doors swing open as Death Angel's shadowed form moves back and forth across the screen faster and faster.

Death:Left brain for your more artistic side, right for the more efficient, cerebellum for your memory and motor skills. Your a living, learning machine that you can't beat me again Styles and Punk.

[A light switches on in one of the rooms.]

Death:Electricity is passed between parts of the brain and so requests are processed. Energy transfered. Data received to show me your weakness Styles and Punk.

[The light goes out and the deliberate, heavy steps return.]

Death:Through different mediums and devices the brain then gives orders to the rest of the 'body' so that it can function properly, so it can achieve. Progress. Evolve even. Good things prevail as long as energy lasts and all the parts work together, something could be made here.

[The footsteps stop.]

Death: ... I wonder then what, in my little analogy, do I represent?

[The sound of metal sliding across stone, slowly.]

Death: Styles and Punk you say you do not fear nightmares but you will be in one when we step into that ring this week with me.

[Footsteps again. Doors slam closed.]

Death: Styles and Punk you can keep saying to your self that you are not scare of nightmares or that you do not fear nightmares but in the end you will.

[The metal grinds, screaming against the rough concrete floor, sparks fly up and around Apocalypse and his 'weapon'. It's just a piece of copper tubing.]

Death: Hate and Respect is what i have for Styles and Punk?

[The metal clatters to the floor, dropped, more quick steps and a face is just in sight again, only stubble and one dark red eye. Not a foot away from the lens itself.]

Death: I said I wanted to be clear. If you want to talk about names, great, named yourself after a strong anti-depressant. They always said, if only they'd had xanex when the Apocalypse came, we'd have been ok. What I want to be clear about is not my name, but my character. I wouldn't want anyone, least of all you, Styles and Punk', to get the wrong idea about me. See, despite first appearances, I am in fact .. not a particular-ly nice guy. Not really at all. What I mean to say is that if maybe, say, a blunt metallic seating object were to cross my path during the course of our encounter I might then be disposed to pick it up and say, maybe .. I may just beat six shades of *bleep* out of you with it. I also may not of course, depending on my mood. It would all depend. But I wouldn't go betting dollars to dimes on my leaving it sitting there with out using it on you.

[He pauses.]

Death: So I guess if I make you sick, I'm not desperately surprised. I'm not exactly here to smoke up, star-gaze and talk about Kelly Clarksons movies with you and your friends, again you might be shocked, but I intend to walk out of Direct hit as a winner, regardless of what happens in the match.

[He starts to move away from the camera.]

Death: So don't spend too much time waiting around, hoping for me to see your light. When I'm done with you, they'll only be you, the darkness ...

[The metal rails across the concrete again, sparks scatter.]

Death: .. and The Career Killer Death Angel. You Will Hear the Thunder...Hear the Drums...Fear the Battle....For Mayhem comes.

[The scene fades to black]