Post by cyborg878 on Dec 7, 2020 18:18:21 GMT -5
April 23rd
The date hung over him still.
Sure wounds had healed since that night.
Ribs were no longer broken.
Bruises had cleared up.
Trauma though... it lingered like a monster on Damon's shoulder.
Awww boys isn't that sweet? Two little Cali fags falling in love.. would be a shame if someone ruined their moment.
The words echoed in his mind every day.
No one ever seemed to catch the men responsible.
No one ever seemed to go looking for them either.
Until now.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Damon Warrens found himself in an unfamiliar part of town. He was certainly in the seedier area of San Diego. Broken windows boarded up in almost every building, broken beer bottles scattered across the sidewalk and street. The sun had long set and beyond a few streetlights and the pale moon there was only one significant light source.. the neon sign of a strip club and bar down the end of the street. That was his destination. No not for drunk strippers with sweaty singles stuffed precariously in their g-strings. He was here for a reunion.
It had been over seven months since the night he and his love were viciously assaulted by a group of local thugs. Seven months and not one arrest had been made. Every call or visit to the police station was met with false enthusiasm in solving the case and apprehending the men responsible. Despite living in what many think to be a liberal paradise of California it seemed the police were none too motivated to help a queer couple bring their assailants to justice.
Damon realized as the months went by that no one could bring justice to he and Jaime except...themselves. Upon this epiphany Damon began to reach out to his local connections. Using the eyewitness description of the men who attacked the couple Damon began to ask around for information. Eventually a lead broke and Damon narrowed his search to this run down strip joint: The Nip Slip. It was the frequent nighttime hangout of the leader of that night's gang: Karl Hathings. The other men.. they'd get what they were due eventually, but Karl.... he had to suffer first. He deserved all of Damon's fiery retribution.
So here they were. Damon in all black with his hood up. Beside him a slightly worried Jaime with camera in hand. There was clear anxiety on the younger man's face at having to come face to face with a man who nearly murdered him. Damon reached out and grabbed Jaime's hand in comfort.
Jaime: Are,...are you sure we should be here? We could call the cops...
Damon: What have they done for us? Nothing! How is it that we could find this guy with some minor digging, but an entire police department couldn't with months of work?
Jaime: Because they weren't looking...
Damon: Exactly... because they don't care about people like us... no one wanted to give us justice Jaime... so now we take it. Are you ready? He should be coming out any minute.
Jaime nods and the two men get into a black car with tinted windows which they drive to an alleyway not far from the club. Within minutes as Damon anticipated Karl Hathings exited the club stumbling over his own feet. The man was clearly intoxicated. As he drunkenly tumbled his way down the sidewalk he stopped noticing a young Cuban man with a camera posed seductively on the hood of a black car. He decided to go after the man mumbling something resembling "fuckin queer" under his breath as he approached. With his focus on Jaime Karl failed to notice a hooded figure approaching behind him. It was far too late. Before he could reach Jaime with his fist a metal baseball bat reached his head with a sickening thud. Karl dropped to the ground immediately. Damon put on gloves before grabbing the main and bringing him towards the open trunk of the vehicle. He slumped the man in and closed the trunk before he took off his gloves and got in the driver's seat. The couple then slowly pulled out of the alleyway before driving off away from the ghost town of a street and heading towards a familiar hospital.
----------------------------------------------------------
Karl opened his eyes and looked around the strange room he now found himself in. The entire room lacked light, but once his eyes adjusted he saw he was in what looked like an operating room in a hospital. When he tried to move he was unable and quickly realized he was strapped down on the operating table. Panic began to take over from confusion especially when the door to the room opened and in walked two men in strange white masks. One man, with a smiling mask, held a camera in his hand. The other, with a grim frown, held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.
Karl: What the fuck is going on here!? Let me the fuck out!
Karl struggled against his restraints to no avail.
Damon: Oh Karl are you always so aggressive? Twice now we've your acquaintance and twice you've just been so unpleasant.
Karl: Who the fuck are ya?
Damon: I'm just a man looking to make a nice heart warming home video for his loved one.
Karl: What the fuck are you talking about? I din't do nuthin' to you!
Damon: Oh... but dear Karl you did. In fact you did quite a lot to both of us. And now it's our turn to return the favour. Let me set the scene for you Karl....April twenty third... beautiful California night. Two men walk through a park before one falls to a single knee ring in hand. The two men profess their love to one another and just as they embrace in pure joy....you and your inebriated posse decides to make it the worst night of their lives. What was it you said to me... Awww boys isn't that sweet? Two little Cali fags falling in love.. would be a shame if someone ruined their moment.
Realization hit Karl like a freight train. Here he was completely defenseless while a man who he had almost killed was standing over him with a baseball bat... much like Karl had done to him many months prior. The karma of the situation was not lost on the thug. The fear was clear on his face and Damon reveled in every second of it.
Damon: So Karl... how does it feel? The tables have turned...you are now at our mercy. So what say you?
Karl: I ain't gunna beg a fag for nuthin!
Damon: Wrong answer!
Damon swings the bat down onto Karl's leg. As metal collided with flesh and bone Karl let out a blood curdling roar of pain. Damon watched in glee as the man writhed against the restraints in utter distress. It felt just that finally the man who had he and Jaime so much trauma would now have his own.
Damon: Let's try again Karl...
Karl spat defiantly in the direction of Damon, but of course as he was tied down it mostly just landed on himself.
Karl: You two deserved what happened to you! I bet your little boyfriend wished I had more time with him. Seemed pretty hungry for my dick...nasty fagg-
Karl got cut off by a blow to the ribs, several cracking upon impact. His pain echoes throughout the empty hospital. Damon climbs onto the operating table. He positioned himself so he was sitting on Karl's broken ribs causing a hiss of pain.
Damon: Do you want to make it out of here alive Karl? Because I'm telling you honestly...it's not looking good for you the way you're acting.
Karl decided to make the one good decision of his recent life and stayed quiet.
Damon: You're a smart man Karl... so here's the deal. I decide to free you from your restraints and let you live...maybe I'll be kind enough to drop your sorry ass off in an alleyway. You stay the fuck away from me and my family. I don't turn you into the cops for my assault. You keep your mouth wired shut about what happened here today. We call everything even. Sound fair?
Karl nodded quickly.
Damon: Good, now it sounds like we have a deal.
The scene faded out as Damon hopped off his ribs and began to undo the restraints
---------------------------------------------------------
When the feed flickers to life the APW faithful find themselves looking again at the same dimly lit hospital they saw just before Killing Floor. The lights flash on and off with a quiver in the hallway. From the end of the hall a tune can be heard. As the source of the sound gets nearer the tune can be made out: "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof. The origin point appears revealing of course the Devil Himself Damon Warrens. He is dressed in his ring gear with his two championships fastened together and draped over his shoulders. He absent mindedly swings his barbed wire baseball bat as he strolls down the hall, his tune echoing in the vacant halls.
Damon: Hatebringer, Hatebringer, bring me some hate.... tear at my mind, I cannot wait. Hatebringer, Hatebringer, rip with your hooks, and make this my dying date.
Damon nears the camera, but instead of stopping he continues past and sways down the hall to his parodied lyrics.
Damon: Hatebringer, Hatebringer, I'll bring the nails, you bring the chairs, all to no avail. You will soon perish and I will still be the envy of all I see!
Damon turns back and smiles his devilish grin at the camera.
Damon: You know APW... I'm just terribly excited for the Hatebringer to bring me all the hate and violence he promises to bring everyone. I've been desperate for depravity equal to my own. Since I must wait for America Jackson.... well the Hatebringer will do for now. I hope though that he lives up to his own proclamations. I've already had plenty of so-called evil forces trying to as Corey said " challenge another to lead the pride" They've all failed. Now yes in fairness they've all been Jason Ryan.... over and over again... but regardless they have yet to live up to their own hype. I have hope for you though Corey.
The Nitemare twirls his baseball bat as he looks off in the distance.
Damon: You must be the real deal after all Corey... those years spent in an asylum... well they must have warped you... twisted any semblance of sanity.... You truly must be as mad as a hatter.... your sister Dove being your sad, damaged Alice. But you'll find out quickly Mr. Bull that you aren't in wonderland. When you step inside my kingdom you'll find yourself in my realm, in Hell. You once compared Hell to a unicorn... you said it isn't real... you can't find it.... but that you hoped one day that you would. Well Corey.... you're in luck.
Damon's chest shakes with laughter; maniacal cackles ring through the air.
Damon: Friend you're in Hell. And no I don't mean the same Hell your friend Raging Dead is presumably wasting away in. You're in MY kingdom. MY Hell. A place where only the greatest and most resilient survive. A place where I have become an unstoppable force. You however have proven to be rather... stoppable. Just looking back in the time since I've returned to APW... I'm five for five. I haven't lost a single match. In fact I've won two championships... in less than two months. I got my revenge against Jason Ryan, regained my precious world championship, defended it successfully... and then although by some questionable means found myself with a second championship. You told my that even Devils bow to you.. but let it be known I have yet to bow to anyone. You however.... well for a man who acts as if he is so dominant... the reality says otherwise.
The Devil Himself looks rather unimpressed with Bull.
Damon: You lost your chance in the trios tournament... you were handily defeated by Blake for the Television Championship.... you were brutalized At Turmoil and lost out on the Hardcore Championship. In the same amount of time... two months... I have won these two treasures around my neck and you have failed to capture just as many. No matter what you threw at your opponents including literally the kitchen sink.... you just fail....and fail... and fail. And yet you are my world championship caliber opponent. You are the impending doom I am supposed to fear. A man done away with a single spinebuster. A seven foot monster... no... a sever foot mouse looking to be exterminated.
Damon forcefully twists his neck to crack it. He brings his bat up to rest on his shoulder over the world championship as if to guard the belt from any would be contenders.
Damon: Those matches.... those loses they don't matter though right Bull? After all you've said that fate sometimes requires more than absolute victory. You think that just because your opponent walks away battered and bruised...well you've accomplished something right? Your loss is not at least a total loss.... you took a piece of them with you. And I'm sure you're going to promise to do the same to me. And when I drive my knee into your skull....when I cut off your oxygen... when I leave you as an example of what happens to those undeserving dregs of this business who try to challenge for the throne.... you'll still tell yourself it was all a part of the bigger picture. You'll speak sweet lies to yourself.. or you'll have your voodoo tramp Loa fabricate some re-telling of events to make you feel like at least it wasn't a total loss.
The condescension in Damon's voice drips with disdain and disgust.
Damon: Corey those are the words of a man trying to justify his own failures. It sounds like a man who doesn't realize how in over his head he truly is. I know you believe that because you're some seven foot monster... you weight over three hundred and fifty pounds... you have this penchant for violence... that I must be concerned for my safety and for my reign. I will tell you...you are truly misguided if you believe such delusions. In my time in APW I have proven I fear no being. I have risen to challenges placed before me. I have risen ABOVE challenges placed before me. I am a man who's resiliency and determination is unmatched. I have a silver tongue that no wordsmith can out-speak. I have a mind who constantly plays its opponents into a position of zugzwang. I have a body so accustomed to the pain and exhaustion of sado-masochism that it can seemingly defy death itself. I am not some mere mortal jobber....I am not a demon or devil you claim will bow to you... I am THE DEVIL HIMSELF!
Damon's voice becomes distorted near the end for a moment before returning to normal.
Damon: You have relied on your size, your strength, your brutality...and for some reason your less than adequate mind.. to try to bring you the spoils of victory. Those have all failed you and yet those will be the same weapons you bring to wage war with APW's king. You are out matched. They will not be enough. You may be stronger than I...but I have survived stronger than you.... more vicious than you. I've certainly out-witted wiser than you.
Damon's boastful nature returns.
Damon: When we finally meet... when you have no Twitter account to hide behind... you will realize why no one else has managed to keep me down. You will realize that although you thought Adam Dante was handing you a glorious opportunity he was in fact handing you your death sentence. When you come to my kingdom you will bow to the Devil Himself as all other have had to do eventually. When you fall at my hands you can go to the back and have Loa tell you that it was fate...and you can believe her lies. When you've finished deceiving yourself you can run back to Action Wrestling and tell them all the tale of the wolf who thought he could be king and challenged the Devil for his throne.... you can tell them all that that wolf was publically executed. When you finish your tale.. of course embellishing it to make yourself feel better... you can tell them all that the moral of the story is that no matter how large...how fast... how strong...how smart...how violent you think you are...
The camera cuts abruptly to show only the eyes of Damon Warrens. His voice can be heard again taking the warped demonic tone.
Damon: Never disrespect the Devil Himself.
The date hung over him still.
Sure wounds had healed since that night.
Ribs were no longer broken.
Bruises had cleared up.
Trauma though... it lingered like a monster on Damon's shoulder.
Awww boys isn't that sweet? Two little Cali fags falling in love.. would be a shame if someone ruined their moment.
The words echoed in his mind every day.
No one ever seemed to catch the men responsible.
No one ever seemed to go looking for them either.
Until now.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Damon Warrens found himself in an unfamiliar part of town. He was certainly in the seedier area of San Diego. Broken windows boarded up in almost every building, broken beer bottles scattered across the sidewalk and street. The sun had long set and beyond a few streetlights and the pale moon there was only one significant light source.. the neon sign of a strip club and bar down the end of the street. That was his destination. No not for drunk strippers with sweaty singles stuffed precariously in their g-strings. He was here for a reunion.
It had been over seven months since the night he and his love were viciously assaulted by a group of local thugs. Seven months and not one arrest had been made. Every call or visit to the police station was met with false enthusiasm in solving the case and apprehending the men responsible. Despite living in what many think to be a liberal paradise of California it seemed the police were none too motivated to help a queer couple bring their assailants to justice.
Damon realized as the months went by that no one could bring justice to he and Jaime except...themselves. Upon this epiphany Damon began to reach out to his local connections. Using the eyewitness description of the men who attacked the couple Damon began to ask around for information. Eventually a lead broke and Damon narrowed his search to this run down strip joint: The Nip Slip. It was the frequent nighttime hangout of the leader of that night's gang: Karl Hathings. The other men.. they'd get what they were due eventually, but Karl.... he had to suffer first. He deserved all of Damon's fiery retribution.
So here they were. Damon in all black with his hood up. Beside him a slightly worried Jaime with camera in hand. There was clear anxiety on the younger man's face at having to come face to face with a man who nearly murdered him. Damon reached out and grabbed Jaime's hand in comfort.
Jaime: Are,...are you sure we should be here? We could call the cops...
Damon: What have they done for us? Nothing! How is it that we could find this guy with some minor digging, but an entire police department couldn't with months of work?
Jaime: Because they weren't looking...
Damon: Exactly... because they don't care about people like us... no one wanted to give us justice Jaime... so now we take it. Are you ready? He should be coming out any minute.
Jaime nods and the two men get into a black car with tinted windows which they drive to an alleyway not far from the club. Within minutes as Damon anticipated Karl Hathings exited the club stumbling over his own feet. The man was clearly intoxicated. As he drunkenly tumbled his way down the sidewalk he stopped noticing a young Cuban man with a camera posed seductively on the hood of a black car. He decided to go after the man mumbling something resembling "fuckin queer" under his breath as he approached. With his focus on Jaime Karl failed to notice a hooded figure approaching behind him. It was far too late. Before he could reach Jaime with his fist a metal baseball bat reached his head with a sickening thud. Karl dropped to the ground immediately. Damon put on gloves before grabbing the main and bringing him towards the open trunk of the vehicle. He slumped the man in and closed the trunk before he took off his gloves and got in the driver's seat. The couple then slowly pulled out of the alleyway before driving off away from the ghost town of a street and heading towards a familiar hospital.
----------------------------------------------------------
Karl opened his eyes and looked around the strange room he now found himself in. The entire room lacked light, but once his eyes adjusted he saw he was in what looked like an operating room in a hospital. When he tried to move he was unable and quickly realized he was strapped down on the operating table. Panic began to take over from confusion especially when the door to the room opened and in walked two men in strange white masks. One man, with a smiling mask, held a camera in his hand. The other, with a grim frown, held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.
Karl: What the fuck is going on here!? Let me the fuck out!
Karl struggled against his restraints to no avail.
Damon: Oh Karl are you always so aggressive? Twice now we've your acquaintance and twice you've just been so unpleasant.
Karl: Who the fuck are ya?
Damon: I'm just a man looking to make a nice heart warming home video for his loved one.
Karl: What the fuck are you talking about? I din't do nuthin' to you!
Damon: Oh... but dear Karl you did. In fact you did quite a lot to both of us. And now it's our turn to return the favour. Let me set the scene for you Karl....April twenty third... beautiful California night. Two men walk through a park before one falls to a single knee ring in hand. The two men profess their love to one another and just as they embrace in pure joy....you and your inebriated posse decides to make it the worst night of their lives. What was it you said to me... Awww boys isn't that sweet? Two little Cali fags falling in love.. would be a shame if someone ruined their moment.
Realization hit Karl like a freight train. Here he was completely defenseless while a man who he had almost killed was standing over him with a baseball bat... much like Karl had done to him many months prior. The karma of the situation was not lost on the thug. The fear was clear on his face and Damon reveled in every second of it.
Damon: So Karl... how does it feel? The tables have turned...you are now at our mercy. So what say you?
Karl: I ain't gunna beg a fag for nuthin!
Damon: Wrong answer!
Damon swings the bat down onto Karl's leg. As metal collided with flesh and bone Karl let out a blood curdling roar of pain. Damon watched in glee as the man writhed against the restraints in utter distress. It felt just that finally the man who had he and Jaime so much trauma would now have his own.
Damon: Let's try again Karl...
Karl spat defiantly in the direction of Damon, but of course as he was tied down it mostly just landed on himself.
Karl: You two deserved what happened to you! I bet your little boyfriend wished I had more time with him. Seemed pretty hungry for my dick...nasty fagg-
Karl got cut off by a blow to the ribs, several cracking upon impact. His pain echoes throughout the empty hospital. Damon climbs onto the operating table. He positioned himself so he was sitting on Karl's broken ribs causing a hiss of pain.
Damon: Do you want to make it out of here alive Karl? Because I'm telling you honestly...it's not looking good for you the way you're acting.
Karl decided to make the one good decision of his recent life and stayed quiet.
Damon: You're a smart man Karl... so here's the deal. I decide to free you from your restraints and let you live...maybe I'll be kind enough to drop your sorry ass off in an alleyway. You stay the fuck away from me and my family. I don't turn you into the cops for my assault. You keep your mouth wired shut about what happened here today. We call everything even. Sound fair?
Karl nodded quickly.
Damon: Good, now it sounds like we have a deal.
The scene faded out as Damon hopped off his ribs and began to undo the restraints
---------------------------------------------------------
When the feed flickers to life the APW faithful find themselves looking again at the same dimly lit hospital they saw just before Killing Floor. The lights flash on and off with a quiver in the hallway. From the end of the hall a tune can be heard. As the source of the sound gets nearer the tune can be made out: "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof. The origin point appears revealing of course the Devil Himself Damon Warrens. He is dressed in his ring gear with his two championships fastened together and draped over his shoulders. He absent mindedly swings his barbed wire baseball bat as he strolls down the hall, his tune echoing in the vacant halls.
Damon: Hatebringer, Hatebringer, bring me some hate.... tear at my mind, I cannot wait. Hatebringer, Hatebringer, rip with your hooks, and make this my dying date.
Damon nears the camera, but instead of stopping he continues past and sways down the hall to his parodied lyrics.
Damon: Hatebringer, Hatebringer, I'll bring the nails, you bring the chairs, all to no avail. You will soon perish and I will still be the envy of all I see!
Damon turns back and smiles his devilish grin at the camera.
Damon: You know APW... I'm just terribly excited for the Hatebringer to bring me all the hate and violence he promises to bring everyone. I've been desperate for depravity equal to my own. Since I must wait for America Jackson.... well the Hatebringer will do for now. I hope though that he lives up to his own proclamations. I've already had plenty of so-called evil forces trying to as Corey said " challenge another to lead the pride" They've all failed. Now yes in fairness they've all been Jason Ryan.... over and over again... but regardless they have yet to live up to their own hype. I have hope for you though Corey.
The Nitemare twirls his baseball bat as he looks off in the distance.
Damon: You must be the real deal after all Corey... those years spent in an asylum... well they must have warped you... twisted any semblance of sanity.... You truly must be as mad as a hatter.... your sister Dove being your sad, damaged Alice. But you'll find out quickly Mr. Bull that you aren't in wonderland. When you step inside my kingdom you'll find yourself in my realm, in Hell. You once compared Hell to a unicorn... you said it isn't real... you can't find it.... but that you hoped one day that you would. Well Corey.... you're in luck.
Damon's chest shakes with laughter; maniacal cackles ring through the air.
Damon: Friend you're in Hell. And no I don't mean the same Hell your friend Raging Dead is presumably wasting away in. You're in MY kingdom. MY Hell. A place where only the greatest and most resilient survive. A place where I have become an unstoppable force. You however have proven to be rather... stoppable. Just looking back in the time since I've returned to APW... I'm five for five. I haven't lost a single match. In fact I've won two championships... in less than two months. I got my revenge against Jason Ryan, regained my precious world championship, defended it successfully... and then although by some questionable means found myself with a second championship. You told my that even Devils bow to you.. but let it be known I have yet to bow to anyone. You however.... well for a man who acts as if he is so dominant... the reality says otherwise.
The Devil Himself looks rather unimpressed with Bull.
Damon: You lost your chance in the trios tournament... you were handily defeated by Blake for the Television Championship.... you were brutalized At Turmoil and lost out on the Hardcore Championship. In the same amount of time... two months... I have won these two treasures around my neck and you have failed to capture just as many. No matter what you threw at your opponents including literally the kitchen sink.... you just fail....and fail... and fail. And yet you are my world championship caliber opponent. You are the impending doom I am supposed to fear. A man done away with a single spinebuster. A seven foot monster... no... a sever foot mouse looking to be exterminated.
Damon forcefully twists his neck to crack it. He brings his bat up to rest on his shoulder over the world championship as if to guard the belt from any would be contenders.
Damon: Those matches.... those loses they don't matter though right Bull? After all you've said that fate sometimes requires more than absolute victory. You think that just because your opponent walks away battered and bruised...well you've accomplished something right? Your loss is not at least a total loss.... you took a piece of them with you. And I'm sure you're going to promise to do the same to me. And when I drive my knee into your skull....when I cut off your oxygen... when I leave you as an example of what happens to those undeserving dregs of this business who try to challenge for the throne.... you'll still tell yourself it was all a part of the bigger picture. You'll speak sweet lies to yourself.. or you'll have your voodoo tramp Loa fabricate some re-telling of events to make you feel like at least it wasn't a total loss.
The condescension in Damon's voice drips with disdain and disgust.
Damon: Corey those are the words of a man trying to justify his own failures. It sounds like a man who doesn't realize how in over his head he truly is. I know you believe that because you're some seven foot monster... you weight over three hundred and fifty pounds... you have this penchant for violence... that I must be concerned for my safety and for my reign. I will tell you...you are truly misguided if you believe such delusions. In my time in APW I have proven I fear no being. I have risen to challenges placed before me. I have risen ABOVE challenges placed before me. I am a man who's resiliency and determination is unmatched. I have a silver tongue that no wordsmith can out-speak. I have a mind who constantly plays its opponents into a position of zugzwang. I have a body so accustomed to the pain and exhaustion of sado-masochism that it can seemingly defy death itself. I am not some mere mortal jobber....I am not a demon or devil you claim will bow to you... I am THE DEVIL HIMSELF!
Damon's voice becomes distorted near the end for a moment before returning to normal.
Damon: You have relied on your size, your strength, your brutality...and for some reason your less than adequate mind.. to try to bring you the spoils of victory. Those have all failed you and yet those will be the same weapons you bring to wage war with APW's king. You are out matched. They will not be enough. You may be stronger than I...but I have survived stronger than you.... more vicious than you. I've certainly out-witted wiser than you.
Damon's boastful nature returns.
Damon: When we finally meet... when you have no Twitter account to hide behind... you will realize why no one else has managed to keep me down. You will realize that although you thought Adam Dante was handing you a glorious opportunity he was in fact handing you your death sentence. When you come to my kingdom you will bow to the Devil Himself as all other have had to do eventually. When you fall at my hands you can go to the back and have Loa tell you that it was fate...and you can believe her lies. When you've finished deceiving yourself you can run back to Action Wrestling and tell them all the tale of the wolf who thought he could be king and challenged the Devil for his throne.... you can tell them all that that wolf was publically executed. When you finish your tale.. of course embellishing it to make yourself feel better... you can tell them all that the moral of the story is that no matter how large...how fast... how strong...how smart...how violent you think you are...
The camera cuts abruptly to show only the eyes of Damon Warrens. His voice can be heard again taking the warped demonic tone.
Damon: Never disrespect the Devil Himself.
