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Raven RP#2
Topic Started: Mar 6 2010, 04:26 AM (314 Views)
The Corporation
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Fatalism: A philosophical doctrine emphasizing the subjugation of all events or actions to fate or inevitable predetermination.

Beliefs are, for the most part, nothing more than a choice. Some people choose to believe in God, or some form of a higher power, whereas others choose to believe there is no such thing. Some people choose to believe in free will, that we, as human beings, make our own choices, our own mistakes and good fortune, and generally create our own path through life. Other people, however, choose that no such thing as free will exists, but instead that we have one set path in life. One that begins at birth and ends with the inevitable conclusion of death, and no matter what we try and do, nothing will deviate them from their path.

Raven is one such person.

Discovering that the Sanctioned Violence Organization had returned the way it did, he believed, was an act of fate. What his ultimate destiny there was to be, he had yet to discover, because fate was, as always, constantly in motion, with no thought or concept of rest, and was as unclear as the horizon on a misty morning. What Raven did know was that winning the SVO championship was part of it, one rung on an infinite ladder. And facing Nathan Paradine in the tournament in a few days time was to be another, he could feel it.

It was an intuition, emanating from somewhere deep within. The same intuition that had lead him onwards up and down various streets after he had left his apartment building. The same intuition that had bought him directly to the church on the outskirts of town. According to the cob-webbed covered sign on the jungle of a front lawn, it had once been known as St. Thomas', but now, it was nothing but a dilapidated shadow of it's former self.

'Perfect.' Raven had said as he moved up the cracked stone steps and forced his way through a boarded up window, the leftover fragments of stained-glass window crunched into his boots. It felt like home.

That had been four days ago now. Four days that had been spent training intensely in the quiet and peaceful surroundings of the third floor. A floor that had once been a store-room from what Raven had gathered from the bibles, hymn books, communion goblets and such, but was now nothing but a shadow home to spiders, cockroaches and the occasional rat.

Raven groaned as he pulled himself up on the iron bar that ran along above the large window, once serving as a curtain rail. He was topless but still wearing his usual black pants and boots. Sweat glistened in the moonlight on his forehead and chest, and his muscles showed prominently, as he lowered himself, and pulled himself up again. He had no idea how many he had done or how long he had been doing them, he was completely lost in the groove. - so lost in it was he, that he hadn't seen Michael's car pull up or even the sound of him climbing the spiral staircase that led the way up to this floor. He never even heard him come in through the room's door, which hung carelessly on one hinge.

'What the hell is this place?' he asked, stopping only a few feet behind Raven. 'I thought your apartment was bad, buy you're really moving up in the world.

Raven stopped in mid-repetition, his arms stretched out above him, but it was not a fearful or surprised action; although he hadn't seen him arrive, he had been expecting him. He loosened and dropped back to the floor. His boots thudded loudly on the dust-covered wood, knocking up clouds of it. he turned slowly, breathing heavily and sweating quite profusely.

'It's a church,' Raven answered, wiping the area just above his eyes with the back of his hand as he did so. 'A sanctuary.'

'You don't say,' Michael answered, squinting through the darkness to look around. 'I could have sworn it was a dump.'

'That's because you're as ignorant and blind as everyone else.'

Raven breezed passed Michael to the doorway. More specifically, Michael saw as he turned, to the black bag he had placed in the shadows behind it. He had always wondered what Raven kept in there. Watching intently as he unzipped it, he couldn't help but sigh with disappointment as Raven bought out nothing but a towel and wiped his face.

'So, what did you call me out here for, anyway?' he asked. 'Do you need some more--'

He stopped mid-sentence as Raven slung the towel over his shoulder, reached back into the bag, and pulled out a the small, brown bottle of tablets. He could see they were still half-full as he popped off the cap and downed two of them.

'No. I'm fine.' He dropped the bottle into his pocket. 'Well, on that front, anyway.'

'What front aren't you okay on, then?'

Raven immediate fell to the recurring cramp that had been plaguing his stomach over the last few days, but he dismissed it in favor of another, more pressing issue.

'Nathan Paradine!' His opponent's name poured unconscious from his mouth with unparalleled hatred and venom.

Michael grew confused as he heard this, and then repulsed as he could have sworn an insect scuttled across his foot. 'What about him?'

'I'm not exactly inundated with technology here, but I know you follow the Sanctioned Violence Organization. What have you seen and heard from him.'

Michael thought momentarily and then chuckled. 'Nothing actually.'

'What? No interviews. No appearance. No trash-talk about our tournament title match?'

'Nope. Nothing.'

Michael had barely enough time to register the deeply annoyed expression on Raven's face before he turned around. He watched anxiously as Raven ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. If he had seen Raven's face right now, though, he would have been shocked to see the anger transform into a long, thin smile.

'Well, that settles that. It would seem that this was more than my mystery benefactor at work.'

'What benefactor?' And thought, yet another question about this guy.

Raven turned suddenly but carried on as if he had never heard his question.

'Fate is once again definitely at work. I thought I was merely to coach him in the true nature of being a champion and to send a brutal message to the rest of the company.' He paused, thinking. 'But it's so much more than that.'

Michael carried on remaining silent.

'I'm sick of all these people disappearing into the shadows when they are booked to face me. Am I really that terrifying an opponent?

Raven moved in closer to Michael as he spoke and Michael had to resist the urge to shrink back. But still, he said nothing.

'Well, he'll be schooled in respect, and, like many others before him, that no-shows and inferior ability will not be tolerated. And I hope, for their sake, that the rest of the roster are watching and take note, because they are going to witness first-hand the difference between a champion and a disgrace.'

He turned away to face the shadows in which his bag laid once more.

'You can leave now,' he muttered. 'I have no further use for you. And I need to continue training, even if Nathan Paradine doesn't feel the same.'

Michael looked up at this, surprised and going by the look in his eyes, somewhat annoyed. He walked to the door, though, and exited without a word, except for 'Good luck for Showdown.

Raven would normally have stated that he didn't need luck, he had fate on his side, but he was too busy regaining his previous focus and getting himself back into the groove. The spilling of Nathan Paradine's blood envisioned within his mind’s eye and an eerie, shadow-shrouded smirk spread across his face.
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