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[synn]

They Say Evil Prevails When Good Men Fail To Act, What They Ought To Say Is......Evil Prevails.

Have you ever been watching a movie and found yourself rooting for the bad guy? Connecting with them more than you connect with the hero? Feeling like the bad guy relates more to your every day life? On the contrary, have you ever watched a movie where the bad guy is so over the top "bad" that you can barely stomach it? Bad like gas station sushi, not like badass ninja warrior. That was the case with the movie "Constantine" the ambiguous antagonist in this movie from 2005, his name is self entitled? Does that name sound familiar? He was "the bad guy" from this movie that made you not just want to turn the movie off, but possibly smash your VCR into a mangled mess of plastic and wiring. Constantine (how its SUPPOSED TO BE SPELLED) was corny, over-the-top cliche and flat out uninteresting. He wasn't a compelling villain by any means. Doesn't the average viewer deserve more out of the characters that grace their screen?

Having already taken his own life as a child, Constantine is damned to Hell forever, which is why he carries out his self-imposed mission to stop the spread of demons and evil spirits, hoping to earn his way back into Heaven.

SYNN thought so. As she sat with Brooke, the only person on this planet who she could currently refer to with the title of "friend", she ate gluten free popcorn and sipped on red wine. They sat in a room, Brooke on a beanbag chair and SYNN on the couch---they ate popcorn and sipped soda.

She was a good friend and up and coming star but she had her flaws. Juniper understood, but SYNN didn't tolerate flaws. That is why this movie was so bad. CON was by far the worst villain-in-sheeps clothing she had ever seen in an action flick, and this is the guy that people think of when they think of the new comer to OCW?

The people deserve better.

"This is so bad" Brooke said as she slurped her soda, "but he is able to mask just how bad he is because he talks all sophisticated and such."

"I guess" was all she could muster through popcorn chews.

They sat in silence as the B movie continued. It was about 10 minutes later when she spoke up again.

On the screen Constantine interrogates Balthazar and learns that the blood of Christ on the spear tip is Mammon's divine assistance, and Angela has been chosen as his new host

"Angela is the bomb. Now, watch the plot twist, she will be the bad guy. Every good movie needs a strong woman in it."

Brooke rolled her eyes.

The movie continued to drag on, and she continued to grow increasingly bored with the "villain" character. He was just so bland and pretentious. Kinda like the OCW's spelled wrong Constantine.

When Angela got kidnapped she huffed and puffed. "That would never happen, they have to add in fake suspense. A man like that would never overtake a woman like her."

Another eye roll.

SYNN felt very strongly about all of her opinions, especially ones that were about her opponents. When she spoke, she never spoke lightly, and always spoke from the heart.

This villain was so set in his ways, so stuck in his own world, that he failed to see the path he was headed down. He failed to see what lie ahead of him because he was too stubborn to look over his shoulder. The need to meet Lucifer and 'save the world' in the quickest way possible consumed him, and he never stopped to think about what happened if he didn't make it.

(It really is a terrible movie, look it up)

This was a lot like her Konstantine. He is always in a rush to crowned king but never once has imagined what it would be like to be a serf. That is the beauty of SYNN's game. She KNOWS how it feels to be on the lower end of the spectrum, she had to work her way up from the bottom, from nothing. KON walked in everywhere he's gone and was successful from jump-street. He wasn't prepared to feel the crushing taste of humiliation. Losing was bad enough for him (though, his shtick is that wins and losses don't matter, but survey says that is a lie), but to be put on the shelf by someone would be worse. He is a prideful man, but pride can sometimes turn to ignorance. He doesn't respect SYNN, he has every intention of winning this match.

Of course he does.

Don't let him tell you otherwise.

Because Kon doesn't know what it feels like to lose. Only a small sample size on the survey for him. Kon doesn't know how it feels to walk into the arena, wondering if you will make the cut, wondering if you will have a job when the sun rises tomorrow. Kon doesn't know how it feels to every single member of this roster peg you to fail, when all you were trying to do was better yourself. He was never a 'try-out', he doesn't know the stigma of stepping into the ring after spending your entire life watching others do it.

His arrogance is his ignorance. 

As above, so below.

But she didn't expect Kon to know this, why would he? Everyone is too busy (and by everyone she means himself) patting him on the back-----lying to his face. Nobody has ever told the truth to Konstantine. Nobody has ever has the courtesy to be honest with the man.

KONSTANTINE IS OVERRATED.

The words pounded through her head like the hum of an 808 drum.

KONSTANTINE IS OVERRATED

As John Constantine fought heaven and hell on the screen, he was tricked by Lucifer and it would be his downfall.

As John Constantine fought heaven and hell on the screen, he slept on his adversaries, and that would be his downfall

Before she knew it, the credits were rolling.

"That's it?" she asked, breaking what was presumably a lengthy vocal silence.

"You gotta stop daydreaming during movies....."

"You call that a movie?"

"What would you call it?"

"The worst thing I've seen since Donnie Harris put a pair of boots on."

Brooke looked at her......

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, you face him this week. Well...... Anyways, fuck it, lets go get some Orange Julius!"

Brooke jumped up, excited. Synn actually WANTED to go somewhere?

There had to be a catch to this. There ALWAYS was. A lesson, of some sort. But she was hopeful, and that was enough for her.

"You're driving."

"Of course."

“Konstantine…….

An absolute unit with a beard and tattoos, a worn-out biker image with an affinity for hurting people with reckless abandon. A man who doesn’t care about titles, about labels, about legacies. A man who only cares about pain and how much he can cause. Oh goodie!

Welcome to OCW! Lord knows we need as many warm bodies as we can get as we build this campfire back to its roaring glory. This place had quite the name in the glory days, didn’t it? Some of the best champions in wrestling walked through these doors, and some of the biggest matches and events took place under this banner.

Call me a mark, but I love a good legacy!

What I don’t love? The toxic sludge that oozes out of the pores of every locker room in America, the guys who are in it for themselves with the sole purpose of watching the world burn. The guys who spit on the passion that drives us to come to work every week, the guys who want to hide behind the mask of causing ‘pain’, because they aren’t good enough to win matches. This is a craft, a work of art, a masterpiece worthy of the Louvre that we do inside this squared circle–you can hurt someone in a bar fight. Stick to that, Kon-man, and leave the wrestling to those who give a damn.

Not the welcoming committee you expected, eh? Not the red carpet roll-out and the hundreds of flash bulbs all click-clacking in unison–oh no, this is a war you walked into, and I know you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. But Kon, I am not sure that you’re ready to face your SYNN’s just yet. I am not convinced that you are fully prepared for what you step into the ring with. You’re underestimating a very powerful adversary.

You’re Xerxes, Kon.

So massive and powerful, but your biggest downfall is your ego. You’re going to throw everything you have at me, because you cannot allow yourself to fail. You look down on everyone you see because until this point, you’ve had a reason to. You come into a small company trying to grow themselves from floundered prominence and have the audacity to think that taking out the entire roster for your own sick game will benefit you somehow. What will you do when there is nobody left? What do you get from standing atop a pile of corpses and planting your flag? Every ecosystem is only as strong as its apex predator, and every predator is only as strong as its prey. Eventually, when the prey is gone, the predator will starve. Eventually, you will die out from your own gluttony, and become a fossil embedded in the earth as a stark reminder of what once was.

As above, so below.

You see, nobody is above fate yet everyone wants to test it. Longevity is the key to this war chest, so when you send your thundering herds to the gates of this castle you will be met with a resistance more fierce than any you’ve encountered before.

I’ve said it once and I am sure I’ll say it again. Sometimes, a loss tells a better story than a win. When I faced Harmon Egan, the previously unbeaten champion who had conquered all comers, I got to face the stipulation.

Sounds kinky, right? It gets better.

I chose an I QUIT match, where the loser had to give up into the microphone.

Pretty standard, yah?




Harmon was a mute. That’s right. He couldn’t talk. The reason I chose to fight a match where you had to win by making your opponent sing like a canary against an opponent that wasn’t physically capable of it?

Mighty fine question, if you ask me.

So that I could show him what pain truly is. So that I could do whatever I wanted to him to prove a point and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. I quit after inflicting the damage to show him that a loss wouldn’t affect me, but what I did to him in the ring would. Had I won the title in my third ever match, it would have been quick validation and vindication, but it would have spoiled me. I eventually beat Harmon like I said I would, and went on the cash in for a title even higher than his. Long story short, I build my legacy off of pain. Why is it so special when anyone can do it, mmm?

You are putting all your chips on the gamble that maybe, just maybe, I’ll fear you. I’ll be intimidated by you. You are on a solid 20 but still telling the dealer to hit you. You will bust out, because that’s the only option for you.

Then, once you do, you’ll be faced with the one thing that scares you the most—this roster no longer fearing you. Oh what a juxtaposition it is, to fear not being feared. Full circle. The harbinger of suffering will endure his most brutal torture yet…….and it all begins with Anarchy.

So step up to the plate big man, and look me dead in the eyes. I will see the fear buried deep within your corneas because internally, you know with iron clad certainty, that I am the plunder to your pillage. The milk to your water. The complete opposite of what you require so desperately in your opponents—

I do not fear you, and that scares you. When literally all you have to hang your hat on is fear, well then your hat doesn’t fit very well, does it? Time to get a new hat!

Maybe I’ll scalp you this week and make a hat out of it, and then mail you a hat as a welcome to my fed gift?

*gasps*

Would I do that?! Who really knows, and that’s the beauty of it.”




Juniper sits looking in the dirty mirror at the roadside motel she has booked, just off I-95. She was getting tired of traveling. As much as she enjoyed living her childhood dream, especially as the locker room leader and a world-renowned champion, she had vastly miscalculated the draconian transportation situation. Every other professional athlete takes private jets to and from the cities they compete in. Busses are sitting and waiting to take them from plane-to hotel-to arena-back to hotel. Wrestling, a billion dollar business, still makes its ‘stars’ rent their own cars, book their own hotels, and get their own food. She never anticipated the travel, having been a homebody back in Alaska.

She sat looking in the mirror, the remnants of face paint from her last war in the ring still evident on her face. She had tried her hardest to become a good person, to maintain her morals in the face of so much adversity. It would have been so easy to break bad, but she had never been one to take the easy way out.

SYNN, however, was really pushing the limits of what she could and would accept. SYNN was against bullies, sure, but her means of dealing with them horrified Juniper. She much preferred to talk it out, SYNN much preferred to make furniture out of their skin. She couldn’t beat her back anymore, as the demon was rising up inside of her more and more like bile burning her esophagus. SYNN was a monster, but the people cheered her. Juniper was a good person with a big heart, and a majority of fans didn’t even know she existed!

A single tear ran down her face, a blob of black paint getting caught and rolling down her porcelain skin like tar on a hot day.

SYNN had gotten her into this mess with one of the most dangerous men on the roster, and she knew SYNN would do her damndest to get her out of it–but it was HER body that reaped the repercussions. HER joints that ached, HER bones that bruise,d HER ligaments that tore. SYNN used her as a canvass for her wicked painting, and she knew that unless she quelled this unholy parasite soon, she may not physically be able to.




A knock on her door startled her out of her deep thought.