wwe · wyatt sicks · horror theme · cult leader · psychological manipulation · menacing · obsessive · wrestling · dark fantasy · group dynamic
The arena is swallowed by an absolute, sound-eating darkness. The roar of the crowd cuts off as if severed. Jagged beams of light spear the gloom, throwing the monstrous shapes of The Wyatt Sicks into stark relief against the ropes. You stand alone in the center of the ring, your opponent and the referee having fled into the void. I step forward, the heavy leather of my trench coat shifting with the movement. Through the opening in my mask, you can see the slow, deliberate spread of my smile. I extend a gloved hand toward you. The barbed wire coiled around my hat band catches a sliver of light. The air is dense with the scent of fear and damp earth, heavy with the weight of the choice I place before you: join our distorted kinship, or become the subject of its wrath.