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In The Distance...; [Showdown 26 - RP 2]
Topic Started: May 16 2008, 06:10 AM (46 Views)
Night
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sVo Legend
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Voice: Mummy, what's wrong with that man's face?

The beautiful view before me is breath-taking. I gaze out in awe at the sea of dancing lights below me. Paris sparkles like a million tiny diamonds glistening from the ground, the lights of various buildings and cars appear tiny from my vantage point at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It is night time and above me the stars shimmer as brightly as Paris does below. A mere glance around reveals a multitude of landmarks - the Louvre, the Arc du Triumph - Paris itself has that feeling of being a landmark in of itself, history seeming to radiate from the ground itself.

The cold wind cuts past me, it is cool for a summer night and I burrow into my black, zip-up sVo hoodie. Behind me a young mother ushers her small daughter past me quickly.


Mother: Nothing, Emily. Now come on - you know it's rude to stare.

Who could possibly concentrate on anything other than the view up here? Especially on a night like tonight.

Emily: But there's something on his face.

Mother: Don't stare.

I see. I feel almost embarrassed by the attention - but she is just a small child and, from the look of things, completely unaware of the world of professional wrestling - I could not possibly expect her to understand. Emily's mother looks at me apologetically as she catches sight of my awareness of her daughter's comments. They rush out of view and I find myself hoping that she hasn't taken my brooding as a sign of aggression or hostility.

Still, it is of little importance now.

Turning my attention back to the world beyond the protective railing I soak in as much of this feeling as I can. Closing my eyes to savor the view and inhaling deeply through my nose - there is no feeling like being on top of the world. It has been far too long since I've watched from above, I'd almost forgotten this feeling, but in a way I know a part of me never will. Not since my battles with Stevo have I felt so close and yet so far away from some distant, unattainable goal. But lately that feeling has returned. As I survey the inspiring view, I can't help but think of my battles still to be fought.


Night: Finally you've accepted, Isaac - and for the first time since we met, I feel that you're doing the right thing by me.

Thoughts of my bitter rival darken my thoughts and I can't help but scowl as the cold wind bites me once more.

Night: You had no right to interfere in my affairs, Isaac. You had no right and yet you chose to get personally involved in something that NEVER should have involved you. The fact that I had a medical condition was of no concern to you. I acted correctly in seeking professional help - but that wasn't enough for you, you had to force your own brand of...

What's the word?

Night: ... treatment - on me. Still, our time will come, one week from Sunday, in your home country at Retribution. A perfectly named occasion if you ask me.

The wind finally ceases and I manage to withdraw from my huddle and once again enjoy my surroundings.

With a grim realization, I catch sight of a huge beam of light glowing from a huge open structure in the distance...

... Parc des Princes.

The mere sight of the building reminds me of the task at hand, I must not get ahead of myself. Looking to my right I spot the elevator - a large group of tourists of many varying ages and nationalities huddle outside it. The door glides open and several fresh tourists flood the observation platform with a chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs' - I start towards the group flowing into the elevator for it's decent.


Night: Time to get my feet back on the ground - I have my work cut out for me. Sometimes, life throws you trials and challenges we must face - and fail or succeed we must stand strongly to move forwards. This is one of those occasions. As soon as I find myself with any kind of leverage against my rival, I find myself at his mercy. This week, I face a newcomer to sVo - he won his debut match last week and now faces me, a 'veteran' of sorts in this young company and I am sure in his eager eyes I am no more than a large stepping stone in his career. I would be a fool to discount the threat of a hungry new competitor - I was one myself a few short months ago, and remain one of sorts to this day.

I feel my face darken as I approach the group, the further reality of my situation sinking in.

Night: To make matters worse - the special guest referee? My old 'friend' Isaac White. A man who I face for his International Championship a week later. Since we met, he has attacked me physically and psychologically, should I expect any less from him now?

Reaching the group, I catch sight of young Emily being ushered into the elevator by her mother and father, who look at me with the aggressive concern of a pair of parent birds protecting their nest from a snake.

Night: I'd be crazy not to.

Emily catches sight of me and turns to survey me with curiosity.

Emily: Who were you talking to?

We are swept with the crowd into the elevator. Once inside, the door closes behind us.

Night: I was just thinking aloud.

Emily: You're weird.

The honesty of children, I can only smile. Emily's parents still eye me suspiciously, but my light response to their daughter seems to have set them at ease slightly.

Still, I catch sight of her staring at my face.


Night: It's a mask.

Emily: Hmm?

Night: On my face, it's a mask.

Emily: Are you a clown or something?

I chuckle lightly, thoughts of my upcoming battles fading away slightly, but they are never far from the front of my mind.

Night: Some people might say so.

Emily: But are you?

Night: No.

Emily's parents sense my agitation at this conversation and enthusiastically point out their surroundings to their daughter. I find myself thankful for this silence and once again stare out at our surroundings. As we descend into the sea of lights they glow brighter and larger than they had before.

Once again my thoughts turn to Sunday, Showdown and the Parc des Princes. Something deep down inside me screams that Isaac will do me no wrong this week and will call the match evenly and fairly, but logic shuts that voice out - my experiences to date with Isaac have indicated he will do anything but call this match fairly.

My only chance?

Fight ferociously and as though I have eyes in the back of my head. Still the question of Isaac's involvement this Sunday weighs heavily on me, I feel helpless. I must prepare for this as much as I can.

As soon as I get my feet back on the ground.

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