Three days had passed since Drake Nygma had signed his UOW Contract. Those three days had been mostly a blur of events, events that had transpired in what felt like fast forward. First there had been the mandatory Psych evaluation with the UOW officials, then came his introductory tour of UOW, and finally he had been directed to participate in a press conference of sorts that would serve as his response to the interview that his opponent had recently participated in.
The very last memory Drake had was of a sternly worded warning from the UOW governing body, a selection of mortal individuals who had seen both someone who would bring acclaim to the company and a ruthless entity that if left unchecked could very well ruin the reputation that had been built around the company. “Do NOT under any circumstance… lay your hands on anyone before the bell rings” was all that had been said.
It had been heavily implied that failure to follow this instruction would not bode well for Drake Nygma.
Multiple pairs of eyes scanned the area, the medium sized conference room was packed, a mixture of reporters, wrestling fans and non fans alike all crowded into the room, word having been spread of the interview that had been scheduled for today. It did feel like the entire room had drawn its breath as a set of loud ominous footsteps echoed along the stage.
Each step was akin to a thunderous boom, an ominous feeling lay about the conference room. Lights flickered, lightbulbs cracked, sending shards of glass all over the floor, a display of frightening power though Drake had not even touched a lightbulb, his spectral shadow flexing its muscles just a little.
“What is that… he cannot be fully human? Those eyes are like that of a monster straight out of a horror movie” one reporter whispered, trembling as dark eyes probed the skull of the reporter who had spoken.
Silence held sway for a short period of time, though it would feel like an eternity for that reporter naturally. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead, the middle aged man still quivering from the effects of that cold empty stare that said more than a thousand words ever could.
A loud coughing sound and a clearing of throat sounded, a tall slender male starting to speak.
“My name is Francois Benedict and I am your host of today’s press conference in which you’ll get your chance to hear the thoughts of Drake Nygma on his upcoming match. There will be no photos, nor questions taken as per the request of Drake Nygma. With that said lets get the press conference underway shall we.”
Francois reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pad upon which he had a list of questions that he wanted to ask Drake Nygma as he sat on a hard backed chair, his expression defiant.
“Question one: From all outside appearances you seem to be suffering from the delusion that you house an ancient entity inside your body? You do realise that is impossible right? An entity known as The Sphinx?” Francois scoffed, his tone full of derision.
Drake’s hand clenched in obvious fury, a red haze entering his eyes. Darkness swam in his eyes like a great serpent uncoiling. “I am no mere impossibility, I have existed for untold centuries. Francois… Benedict… your life is but the blink of an eye. You’ll live for what 80 years? Maybe 75? Tread very carefully mortal…”
Francois gulped, panic showing upon his features, eyes widening at the mention of how long he might live.
“Question two: Your debut opponent has the moniker of ‘The Snow Leopard.’ How do you plan to fight this opponent? What is your strategy? Do you even have one?”
“My strategy is very simple. I will use brute force to break this man who calls himself ‘The Snow Leopard’ you see there is always a bigger threat on the horizon, a predator with bigger teeth, a force you cannot comprehend. I am that force. I am the force you cannot fathom with your tiny mind… My planning… my strategic skill has had eons to improve, to be honed to a fine point”.
Francois now looked slack jawed at the thought that this entity had lived for eons, that this entity had a countless array of strategies that they could employ in pursuit of their endgame.
“Question three: From what I can see you seem to be assuming that this match will end with your victory, why is that? What makes you so confident that you will be the one to win?”
“You see I’ve long been a fighter, combat is nothing new to me. Fighting is second nature to me, brutality shall be my calling card. My destined path is to fight…. To wage war for eternity… to break all who step in my way. As much as I enjoy physically breaking my opponent in the ring…. I absolutely enjoy getting inside their heads… challenging their thoughts, making them doubt themselves.”
Stunned for several moments Francois looked over at Drake Nygma, seeing the chilling eyes of The Sphinx returning his gaze.
“Question four: “What do you hope to accomplish in UOW? What are your goals?”
“My Goals? To usher in an era of brutality, to leave a path of broken bodies at my feet. To eliminate the weak. To shatter the fragile men who dare to think that there is any universe in which they can defeat me. Soon the roster will learn that I am a hunter… a hunter who deals in violence… who delights in the darker side of life. I’ve heard rumours of a curse surrounding UOW… a curse that calls to me… I plan to uncover the truth about this curse…. To master it…. And add yet another intriguing facet to the legend that exists around me.”
“Final question: Any parting thoughts? A message that you wish to share with the man you are set to fight?”.
“Parting thoughts? Darkness has come to UOW. I don’t expect that anyone will fully appreciate what that means just yet, but you all will in time. Snezhnaya Barsa, this is my message to you, a riddle for you to think about in the days to come. I feel your every move, I know your every thought. I've been with you from birth and I'll see you when you rot, what am I?”.
An eerie riddle spoken from between the lips of The Sphinx. A confused look crossed the expression of Francois Benedict, his look suggesting that he had no idea what The Sphinx was referring to with this riddle.
With no more words spoken Drake Nygma would simply rise to his feet, his form exiting the conference hall, answers given, a riddle posed as was his way of engaging in mind games, any true warrior knew that total victory came from breaking a man both physically and mentally. This was Drake’s mission, to break Snezhnaya, to put doubt into his mind. A doubt that would eat away at the male’s confidence, perhaps even instil a sense of fear in him at the thought of facing a man unlike any other in existence.
Smoke rose with each step, his form obscured, a golden staff rested in his hand, a staff that shone so brightly as to almost be blinding with its sheen.
“I’ll see you soon ‘Snow Leopard’ only time will tell which of us will win… tick tock… the clock is ticking.