Post by Luminous Robin on Aug 28, 2009 10:37:02 GMT -5
"The curtain raises. There's a gracious applause. You take a bow."
"First impressions are everything. You try everything to make a good one, to try and get everything that you represent across. You fail. Some begin to leave. Others boo. Others simply laugh under their breath and carry on watching, because they're enthralled to see how much worse this show can possibly get."
"All the while, you're pretending that you're not seeing this, hiding behind the fourth wall like it was a comfort blanket, and you try to carry on, your facade growing more and more obvious by the second. The brief intermission is like a godsend, and when you return for the second act, the people watching are distraught, having savoured the time you were gone - whereas others have simply snuck out the back door."
"By the time you've taken your final bow, and the curtain closes, you're met with silence. No one knows what to think of you anymore. Those who saw through you from the very beginning have long since left and forgotten you. Those who made an attempt to protest what you represent have long since given up and left with the others. Even those who found you amusing in a cathartic way have grown bored with you. You've lost all appeal. You've got nothing."
"And yet, despite it all, you manage to turn around and tell yourself that you've done well, and convince yourself that the 'spectacle' we all were just forced to witness was something for you to be proud of and help you to sleep soundly at night."
"Angellus. That is your legacy."
_______________________________
The alarm rings. And rings. And rings.
A grunt emerges from beneath the covers. The fabric ripples and distorts as the frame beneath it rolls over, wildly flailing in its attempt to silence the noise that had disturbed it, and soon enough, a hand comes crashing down upon the alarm. A dull thud, followed by silence, and from there, yet another elongated groan of disappointment. This, in itself, is a rarity. How odd it is for a man such as Jason Hearn to not want to get up in the morning and enjoy the day that lies ahead of him.
But no. Today is not a day he wants to wake up for.
He rolls onto his side again, teasing with the idea of just skipping breakfast so that he can get another hour. This hotel bed was much comfier than the last hotel, although not as comfortable as the hotel from three weeks ago, and certainly not a match for the one from five weeks ago, that was a nice hotel bed. How far was the arena from here again? Had he even remembered to ask directions? Was there anyone else in the same hotel that he could maybe hitch a lift with, in that case? Oh, like it matters. Just close your eyes. Count to thirty, savour it. There's no chance that you can fall asleep again in that time, right?
No point. The light's shining in through the curtains. His eyelids part for the briefest of moments to deduce just how bright it is, try and figure out what time it is, and that's enough to ruin any chance he ever had of going back to sleep. He forces himself to sit up, lazily running a hand through his hair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in an attempt to force some form of consciousness into himself, and from there, just hope that the willpower to actually get up, get changed and have an actual day would come thereafter.
Typical. One day of work a week, and he still doesn't want to.
"Fucking Angellus," he mutters to himself with a soft chuckle, swinging his legs around to the side, mused by the fact that he had to make all of this effort - for something that, in his mind, wouldn't last as long as it took him to get prepared. Maybe he was being overconfident, maybe Angellus could live up to his promises. Either way, he was going to get what he wanted. Either a good fight - or a good night.
Sweet dreams are made of these.
_______________________________
"Your attempts to prove yourself fearful have been met with avoidance and mockery behind your back. Your attempts at confidence have been exposed to be little more than bravado."
"Every single ideal that you have attempted to convey has done little more than showcase how much of a little bubble that you exist in, and no matter how much you attempt to venture outside of this bubble, you find yourself forced back in, not because you're afraid of the world, but because the world itself is forcing you there, because it wants the bubble there. Because it wants that level of separation from you, and doesn't want to be associated with you in any way whatsoever."
"So for you to make a death threat towards me? For what? Because we're in a wrestling match together, Angellus? Oh, man. If only I'd known. I would have booked my vacation a week earlier so I could get it in before my funeral."
"That's the truly sad thing, you know. You don't have the slighest clue. You don't know how ridiculous you sound, how ridiculous you look. There's a reason that there's not been any police phonecalls or restraining orders placed, and that's because no one takes you seriously."
"After all, how can they? All things considered, the question isn't even whether or not you're 'willing' to kill me, but if you're even capable. I've seen you in the ring. Hell, I've seen you outside the ring. There isn't a single area of competition where I don't exceed you, dude. I'm faster than you. I'm a better wrestler than you. I'd even lay money on being able to match you in an arm wrestling match, too."
"Just when I was starting to get back into the swing of things again, someone like you has to come along and ruin it."
"I've got to go for another week of absolute boredom. Someone who can't even offer me a good enough challenge to get fired up about the match itself. I'm going to have to deliberately hold back to get any kind of worth out of you. I doubt that if I chose to not make a single move in the first five minutes of the match that you could leave me more beaten than the average scrub here. And it just so happens that I have every other reason to beat you, Angellus. Which is a first for me. I've never really cared too much about the victory, but in your case I'll make an exception."
"Think about if. If I beat you, I get into that 'Ultimate X' match or whatever it's called. For one thing, it's against three other guys, which means there's automatically more chance for me to get a good fight out of it, but what's more is, you add in the element of high risk, and you've got more potential for injury and prolonging the carnage. Add in number one contendership, and you've given the other three incentive to really try and keep me down. Add in the fact that I'm actually going to be aiming for the win as well, and I have potentially the best fight I've ever had in FCW."
"Why am I aiming for the win in the Ultimate X? For the contendership? Well, that much is obvious. But it's not the championship I want. It's the champion. That title alone means that, by default, they're the best fighter in all of FCW. So naturally, that means the best fight, doesn't it?"
"What can you possibly offer, Angellus, that can top that?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing - other than 'brevity'."
"First impressions are everything. You try everything to make a good one, to try and get everything that you represent across. You fail. Some begin to leave. Others boo. Others simply laugh under their breath and carry on watching, because they're enthralled to see how much worse this show can possibly get."
"All the while, you're pretending that you're not seeing this, hiding behind the fourth wall like it was a comfort blanket, and you try to carry on, your facade growing more and more obvious by the second. The brief intermission is like a godsend, and when you return for the second act, the people watching are distraught, having savoured the time you were gone - whereas others have simply snuck out the back door."
"By the time you've taken your final bow, and the curtain closes, you're met with silence. No one knows what to think of you anymore. Those who saw through you from the very beginning have long since left and forgotten you. Those who made an attempt to protest what you represent have long since given up and left with the others. Even those who found you amusing in a cathartic way have grown bored with you. You've lost all appeal. You've got nothing."
"And yet, despite it all, you manage to turn around and tell yourself that you've done well, and convince yourself that the 'spectacle' we all were just forced to witness was something for you to be proud of and help you to sleep soundly at night."
"Angellus. That is your legacy."
_______________________________
The alarm rings. And rings. And rings.
A grunt emerges from beneath the covers. The fabric ripples and distorts as the frame beneath it rolls over, wildly flailing in its attempt to silence the noise that had disturbed it, and soon enough, a hand comes crashing down upon the alarm. A dull thud, followed by silence, and from there, yet another elongated groan of disappointment. This, in itself, is a rarity. How odd it is for a man such as Jason Hearn to not want to get up in the morning and enjoy the day that lies ahead of him.
But no. Today is not a day he wants to wake up for.
He rolls onto his side again, teasing with the idea of just skipping breakfast so that he can get another hour. This hotel bed was much comfier than the last hotel, although not as comfortable as the hotel from three weeks ago, and certainly not a match for the one from five weeks ago, that was a nice hotel bed. How far was the arena from here again? Had he even remembered to ask directions? Was there anyone else in the same hotel that he could maybe hitch a lift with, in that case? Oh, like it matters. Just close your eyes. Count to thirty, savour it. There's no chance that you can fall asleep again in that time, right?
No point. The light's shining in through the curtains. His eyelids part for the briefest of moments to deduce just how bright it is, try and figure out what time it is, and that's enough to ruin any chance he ever had of going back to sleep. He forces himself to sit up, lazily running a hand through his hair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in an attempt to force some form of consciousness into himself, and from there, just hope that the willpower to actually get up, get changed and have an actual day would come thereafter.
Typical. One day of work a week, and he still doesn't want to.
"Fucking Angellus," he mutters to himself with a soft chuckle, swinging his legs around to the side, mused by the fact that he had to make all of this effort - for something that, in his mind, wouldn't last as long as it took him to get prepared. Maybe he was being overconfident, maybe Angellus could live up to his promises. Either way, he was going to get what he wanted. Either a good fight - or a good night.
Sweet dreams are made of these.
_______________________________
"Your attempts to prove yourself fearful have been met with avoidance and mockery behind your back. Your attempts at confidence have been exposed to be little more than bravado."
"Every single ideal that you have attempted to convey has done little more than showcase how much of a little bubble that you exist in, and no matter how much you attempt to venture outside of this bubble, you find yourself forced back in, not because you're afraid of the world, but because the world itself is forcing you there, because it wants the bubble there. Because it wants that level of separation from you, and doesn't want to be associated with you in any way whatsoever."
"So for you to make a death threat towards me? For what? Because we're in a wrestling match together, Angellus? Oh, man. If only I'd known. I would have booked my vacation a week earlier so I could get it in before my funeral."
"That's the truly sad thing, you know. You don't have the slighest clue. You don't know how ridiculous you sound, how ridiculous you look. There's a reason that there's not been any police phonecalls or restraining orders placed, and that's because no one takes you seriously."
"After all, how can they? All things considered, the question isn't even whether or not you're 'willing' to kill me, but if you're even capable. I've seen you in the ring. Hell, I've seen you outside the ring. There isn't a single area of competition where I don't exceed you, dude. I'm faster than you. I'm a better wrestler than you. I'd even lay money on being able to match you in an arm wrestling match, too."
"Just when I was starting to get back into the swing of things again, someone like you has to come along and ruin it."
"I've got to go for another week of absolute boredom. Someone who can't even offer me a good enough challenge to get fired up about the match itself. I'm going to have to deliberately hold back to get any kind of worth out of you. I doubt that if I chose to not make a single move in the first five minutes of the match that you could leave me more beaten than the average scrub here. And it just so happens that I have every other reason to beat you, Angellus. Which is a first for me. I've never really cared too much about the victory, but in your case I'll make an exception."
"Think about if. If I beat you, I get into that 'Ultimate X' match or whatever it's called. For one thing, it's against three other guys, which means there's automatically more chance for me to get a good fight out of it, but what's more is, you add in the element of high risk, and you've got more potential for injury and prolonging the carnage. Add in number one contendership, and you've given the other three incentive to really try and keep me down. Add in the fact that I'm actually going to be aiming for the win as well, and I have potentially the best fight I've ever had in FCW."
"Why am I aiming for the win in the Ultimate X? For the contendership? Well, that much is obvious. But it's not the championship I want. It's the champion. That title alone means that, by default, they're the best fighter in all of FCW. So naturally, that means the best fight, doesn't it?"
"What can you possibly offer, Angellus, that can top that?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing - other than 'brevity'."