Post by the outliers on Oct 31, 2016 4:04:01 GMT
From under thick cobwebs strung between naked trees, the hidden driveway ahead is dark and lit only by the anemic glow of candles. Though protected in their caverns of gold, the flickering light struggles to seep through the mouths and eyes of the many jack-o-lanterns that line the street. The carvings themselves as varied as the imaginations of their creators. In the shaggy grass, that would undoubtedly wet their costumes, lie gravestones and severed body parts; a hand, a foot, an ear. From the doorway, a vintage witch from many moons ago stands shrieking and casting spells as she waves her wand up and down. The front door slowly creaks open and from inside spills out the unnerving Tales of H.P. Lovecraft spinning on vinyl, permeating the air.
With the aroma of scorched pumpkin drifting down the halls we enter the ridiculously overdone kitchen. Scooped out innards spread out on newspapers, handfuls of white seeds in their network of viscous threads, some grotesque and radical form of brain surgery; The Matador in the background crouching over the orange heads with spoons and paring knives. A truly mad scientist. They were so intense about it, especially the pint-sized Sawtooth. He wanted his to have horns. Finally someone suggested carrots, and Grin's pumpkin now has lopsided horns in addition to it's haunting rictus. Acido's is more sedate: a curved smile, half-moon eyes upturned; serenity from one angle, idiocy from another. Between his favorite holiday and the upcoming title fight, Sawtooth Grin has a fearsome energy, a super-charged demonic glee.
Dressed fittingly for the occasion, he dons an aged skeleton body suit. The corpse paint covering his slender face is flawless(modeled after the Crimson Ghost popularized by the horror-punk originators - Glenn Danzig's The Misfits). The front of his signature mohawk greased down the center of his face in a devil-lock. Dropping his utensils, Sawtooth smacks both hands down at the head of the table and leans forward, staring down the lengthy table at Matador.
Grin: Glad you've stuck around and kicked it since your last Honor showing, pal. You fucking crushed him. That show delivered. I was stoked it put you here in Portland, and that I was able to come out and witness it first hand. Plenty of carnage ensued that night.. Some we probably shouldn't talk about. Needless to say, we ended up back here at my place. Successfully avoiding the PPD all together.
Accido looks up from his work and winks. The two begin nodding back and forth for an unusually drawn out period, silently sharing an "inside" moment before Sawtooth continues, laughing over his next several words.
Grin: And hey, fella.. This training regime i've been implementing over this last stretch? Fucking forget about it. You've been killing it. Your submission game has come a long way. Shits on point. Like I said, since this last fight? This progression works, man. You're fucking lethal. You've only been getting sharper since your stay here. Course, you have some tricky, real unorthodox methods yourself you've been sharing, so it's been mutually beneficial. It should definitely serve us well going into this Trios scrap. We've teamed together before.. and any prior experience is better than no experience at all as far as i'm concerned.. We're much more in sync than when we lit up the Labyrinth for Taco Tuesday. Couple that with what's been going on here at the Portland Compound, you know? This is turning into something.
Breaking the semi-serious tone is a ringing cellphone, barely audible over the haunting Halloween sounds echoing throughout his residence. Sawtooth spots it and rushes over. Judging by the look on his face, its apparent, this is a face-time call he's excited to take.
Grin: Where you at, motherfucker?! I haven't heard fuck all from you in like.. an entire month. Complete radio silence.
HWC: Blue Fox to Cyborg II, homing pigeon to whirly-bird unit, jacknife to bird-dog -- come in bird-dog, mongoose to cobra... Transmission from area 52 - from beyond the black rainbow.
Grin: ...Motherfucker.
HWC: Well shit, after that Tag title fight at WARPED 108, I stayed behind in Japan for what I'd call a vision quest to end all vision quests.
Grin: That's sick.. So are you mentally and spiritually sound?
HWC: I'm slowly deteriorating into nothing but insanity... I've honestly.. Never felt better. It was definitely time I needed to take. So, in short, amazing, dude. Well, you know how I do. What you're really asking is, 'Am I ready for Mexico City?' Absolutely. Ready to carve 'em up like jack-o-lanterns.. I'll be meeting you morons there.
Grin: That works. Everything is set then. Matt and I will be meeting you at the Hotel..
HWC: There's other Outlier news I need to speak to you about when I arrive.. New shit has come to light. All I'm gonna say is.. You're gonna be super fucking glad I stayed in Japan.
Grin. Suprises.
HWC: How are you on this number one contender business? They're really wanting to send you out there AFTER we fight for the straps?
Grin: I wasn't totally for it, that's for sure. I beat the piss out of seven other men for my contender spot.. So, I don't know.. We're gonna see what happens, man.
HWC: Service where I'm at is about to drop off, man. You guys have a safe flight.
Grin: Take it easy, 'Crups.
HWC: Real quick, how are you enjoying that vinyl I sent you? The last track, "Hell is Alone"? Thought you might get into it.
Grin: That I did.. And it's so true.. Alright.
HWC: See you on the other side..
Sawtooth raises both eyebrows looking down at his phone. He slides his finger across the screen and the video call ends just as quickly as it came. The reunion brief, but concrete. For a split second the house is completely still.
In Mexico City, The Outliers will be that terror, not caring who should see. Their night of mischief.. and a cruel mischief it will be - cold and indifferent. The most vile Halloween tale of all.