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Topic Started: Jul 26 2008, 02:24 PM (74 Views)
ChristianRoman
sVo Champion
[ *  *  *  * ]
Youbegintoloseyourmind.
Youforgettodelineatewordsfromthoughts;sentencesfromparagraphs;realityfromfiction.
Doesitmatterinthegrandschemeofthings?
Ofcoursenot.Butthisiswhatithasbecome.
Yourlifebecomesajumbledmessofemotionsanddreams;desiresandadmirations;hopesandwants.
Andyoustandthere,idly,watchingitallgobyasquicklyasitcametoyouinthefirstplace.
Youneedtoreachoutandgrabit.Youneedtograspitandholdittight,neverlettingitgo.Notforabriefsecond.
Youthinkthatyou'regoingtotakethisawayfromme,Talon?
Youthinkthisisyourshot?Everybodyknowsyouneedtolosefirstbeforeyoubecomeawinner.
AndI'velost.I'velostitall.Paintyourface,kid,it'stheonlywayyoucanhidefromwhat'scoming.Orsoyouthink.

This is what it looks like to be me.

This is what it feels like to be me.

Time swells and disintegrates. You forget where you are, why you were there in the first place, and if you were there with someone. It doesn't matter anymore. Because you're where you want to be. At least you think you are. You shake off the rust and keep going. Stretching your legs. Brushing your shoulders. Shaking your head. You need to look alive, soldier. You need to look alive or you'll be dead. This is what you hear ringing in your head. But you were never in the military. You were never a part of that unit. You were always alone. Cold and alone. You lacked that camaraderie, and let's be serious; you're not exactly in the type of business that promotes long-term relationships. Not that you would want one anyway.

But you're there. You step into the bright lights. People cheer. You grin, knowing that it's your time. YOUR TIME. To shine. To rise above the rest. To put yourself on a pedestal for all to see and all adorn. For all to try and reach in vain. But you'll never let them. You'll push the ladder away, kick their hands from the ledge, shove them off the windowsill. Make it easier for them to forget and move on. Because you can't forget. You keep going back to the same thing. This is your time. This is your time. This is your time. You must never forget those words. If you do, you'll show your weakness. You'll be dead, soldier.

"Why does a man paint his face?"

To hide from his past.


"It's more than that. There's something else there."

He doesn't want you to know. That's why he paints his face.

"But why would he? What is he trying to hide from? What has bothered him so greatly in his life that he shrouds himself with a man-made mask?"

There are just some people that hide from the Truth.

"Could this man, Talon, be one of those people?"

It's possible. Anything's possible.

"You're not helping me out, You know."

What do you want me to say? I don't know why people do the things that they do. I'm not their Keeper.

"And yet You say that You're still their Creator. That You still have some control over their pathetic lives. Remind me next time not to throw my lot in with You."

Why the harsh criticisms?

"I don't know. I'm just fed up with this whole charade."

What charade might that be?

"The one where people claim to have my back; to promote me; to be a part of MY legacy. Only to watch it get flushed down the toilet at the sight of someone younger, faster, and allegedly better."

You're talking about Talon now, aren't you?


"Not just him. But everybody like him. Everybody young and upstart who jumps into the ring with me and thinks it's going to be a piece of cake to walk all over the old man. They can talk about how much of a great competitor I am, that they can learn a lot from me – but at the end of the day, that's what they see. That's all they can ever see."

You know that's not the case. Plenty of –


"Oh no? What if I don't have it anymore? What if all of my critics are right? What if I'm going down in a blaze of glory?"

But you've won the last few weeks in a row – you haven't even been defeated yet in the sVo!

"I still lost to Patrick McCarthy."

That was an aberration.


"How do You know it wasn't just the beginning of something worse that's lurking around the corner, waiting for the right moment to strike?"

I don't know that.


"See, I knew it. What use are You?"

You wake up in a cold room. It's always cold, you think to yourself. Why can't it be hot? What do you, complain about everything nowadays? My God. That's all you do. There's always something that's on your nerves. You always have some axe to grind about something or other. You don't like the way this happened to turn out; you don't like the way that fell through; you don't like the fact that your room is too hot, but you don't like it too cold either. Getting insane with your power? What power, you would say. You have nothing. That's about right. Because you are nothing still. Hardcore Champion? Peanuts. You know you're better than that and scoff at the notion that some newcomer like Talon brazenly thinks he can oust you. You laugh at his pitiful attempts against your might to show that he's worthy, and you think to yourself how funny it will be when he's left to rot like the others have been the last few weeks. But deep down. Deep down in that thick, concussion-prone skull of yours – you know the truth. You know it all too well. You know it doesn't matter to you.

You know that for every second Talon rejoices over what he had accomplished last week, laying out both of his rivals in one sitting – he sits and tries not to think about what's coming for him. Or does he? Is he too green to realize that this isn't just another match? Is he too green to realize what he did to himself? Is he too green to realize who he's stepping into the ring with – and what he has to put on the line to gain victory? He must know this isn't going to be easy for him; he must know how difficult this will be. You're not willing to step into the ring and roll over – not like you used to. Even though this Hardcore Title may not mean a damn thing to you in the long run, it's yours. You worked for it. You put your swear and blood into it. You defied gravity to acquire it. Now you just have to defy expectations.

Nobody wants you to be a winner. Everybody's looking to the kid to finally do some good. To finally pick up that elusive victory – that elusive championship that people see as coming his way. You don't have a problem with that. Why should you? You've always been a proponent for helping out the new competitor – showing them the ropes. But this time is different. This time, it's for your glory. That's it. You're too proud and egotistical to let somebody else – especially a kid – step on your toes and take what you see as rightfully yours. Let me tell you something, that Hardcore Title around your waist – that's only the tip of the iceberg as far you should be concerned. There's more waiting for you around the corner. You need to remember what you're telling yourself to tell the kid. You need to lose before you can win. And you know damn well what you want to win. But that will come in due time. All in good time.

"He laughs at me. Just like all of the others. He laughs at my own expense."

Why does that bother you?

"Because he doesn't know. He doesn't understand. He's not the first one - the list goes on and on. He thinks he's being ground breaking by laying out my faults, manipulating my conversations with you - but he's not. He's just barking up the same tree again."

Then you need to let him know that.


"I will. Don't worry. It's not as if I can't take a joke - You know that more than anything."

You can take a joke?

"Nevermind - the point of the matter being that he's laying the foundation for a typical response to me."

And what might that be?

"There's no conceivable way to defeat me - and You know this. It's either you sink to my level, like William Voorheez did, claiming he speaks to demons and all of that nonsense; you talk about loss and defeat, knowing that I've suffered very similarly in my life (which is blatantly false, by the way); or, you make it into a big joke. A big laugher.

What's wrong with that? The kid must realize that he's out of his league then - he's pulling out the stops and trying to do whatever in his power to take a chunk out of your armor.

"And for that, I give him credit - but it just won't work."

Pride is an ugly thing, Christian.

"I know."

Please don't let it get to you again.


"I won't. Don't worry."

I don't believe a word you just said.


"You shouldn't."
Edited by ChristianRoman, Jul 26 2008, 02:54 PM.
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