Post by Karl Storm on Aug 20, 2009 21:17:13 GMT -5
I'm sorry, Robin.
The scene opens on Karl Storm, kneeling on the floor of a dim room with his head hanging down. The camera moves cautiously around to rest in front of him for all the good that the new angle does, the combination of bad light and lank hair conspire to block most of his face from view. The most that can be made out is the faint presence of smudged make up and the point of focus for his gaze, fixed as it is upon his hands which rest on his thighs.
Three weeks ago I used you to try and prove something to myself. I tried to prove that there was even the slightest shred of human decency in my soul.
I'm not sorry for trying, I need you to understand that. I'm not sorry for trying to buy my redemption--my freedom if you will, at your expense. I'm not even sorry for lying about my motives to everybody. What I'm sorry about is that I'm going to let you down at Anarchy. I won't--can't be what you need tomorrow night.
Want to know what the funny thing about freedom is?
Freedom, when you get right down to it, is just a whore. And like any good whore it is many things for many people.
For me though, you are not freedom. No road to the promised land are you, rather what you offer me is a return to the land of shame and I'm not willing to go back there.
So I'm afraid, Robin that you will be disappointed when we lock horns again. I will welcome any challenge you can present with open arms. I will dance the night away with you in a dizzying spectacle that will make the people scrape their jaws upon the ground as though they were watching Gods themselves make sport with one another. I will look forward to you being the first person to expose my limits, and I will be grateful if you can manage what everybody has failed to accomplish.
However if it comes down to the choice of having to fight you when you are clearly unfit or taking the same humiliating loss that I did three weeks ago?
If it comes down to having to cripple you to put you down for the count or just walking away from the match?
These, Robin, these aren't even choices. I will choose the latter every single time and all I can do is apologise to you if that cheapens anything. However even if it cages you in frustration I'm not willing to cave because for me, your freedom is just a different kind of prison to the one I'm trapped in right now.
End scene.
The scene opens on Karl Storm, kneeling on the floor of a dim room with his head hanging down. The camera moves cautiously around to rest in front of him for all the good that the new angle does, the combination of bad light and lank hair conspire to block most of his face from view. The most that can be made out is the faint presence of smudged make up and the point of focus for his gaze, fixed as it is upon his hands which rest on his thighs.
Three weeks ago I used you to try and prove something to myself. I tried to prove that there was even the slightest shred of human decency in my soul.
I'm not sorry for trying, I need you to understand that. I'm not sorry for trying to buy my redemption--my freedom if you will, at your expense. I'm not even sorry for lying about my motives to everybody. What I'm sorry about is that I'm going to let you down at Anarchy. I won't--can't be what you need tomorrow night.
Want to know what the funny thing about freedom is?
Freedom, when you get right down to it, is just a whore. And like any good whore it is many things for many people.
For me though, you are not freedom. No road to the promised land are you, rather what you offer me is a return to the land of shame and I'm not willing to go back there.
So I'm afraid, Robin that you will be disappointed when we lock horns again. I will welcome any challenge you can present with open arms. I will dance the night away with you in a dizzying spectacle that will make the people scrape their jaws upon the ground as though they were watching Gods themselves make sport with one another. I will look forward to you being the first person to expose my limits, and I will be grateful if you can manage what everybody has failed to accomplish.
However if it comes down to the choice of having to fight you when you are clearly unfit or taking the same humiliating loss that I did three weeks ago?
If it comes down to having to cripple you to put you down for the count or just walking away from the match?
These, Robin, these aren't even choices. I will choose the latter every single time and all I can do is apologise to you if that cheapens anything. However even if it cages you in frustration I'm not willing to cave because for me, your freedom is just a different kind of prison to the one I'm trapped in right now.
End scene.
