Post by Alexander "The Great" Parise on Sept 10, 2009 17:20:16 GMT -5
“I realize I’m just supposed to listen, but I haven’t really been doing this for very long. I’ve seen what goes on out there, I tried to face it head on, to help people, but I couldn’t. I failed.”
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Alexander ‘The Great’ Parise stone alone on the foot of the grand stone steps that led up to the cathedral. People all around the World Champion walked by, some dressed nicely, showing off their cash, some begging for it. Parise barely stood out in his regular old red sport’s jacket and blue jeans. He wore a winter hat that covered his hair and a portion of his hair, making him look rather odd nearing the end of summer. Slowly he stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way up to the large doors. Slowly his hand came free of his pocket and pushed the doors open, in an almost trance-like state.
Despite the cool look on his face Parise was rather tense and worried, not entirely sure what to expect. Alexander wasn’t a holy man, but he was changing, with each week, each new opponent, and each new challenger he felt himself growing farther and farther away from the man he was trying to become. Often times he could feel the evil that he once was crawling inside of him, trying to convince him to do things. Ever since Parise became champion he was trying to be better, to stray away from the path his former partner Jimmy Gimmick went down, but he couldn’t control himself anymore.
At first he thought the World Title was a good thing, always having someone after him to distract him from his mind. But the people he fought, in this business he expected to fight nothing more than devoted athletes, but what he found, he never could have expected. People like Jimmy Gimmick, Seifer Blacke, Randy Orton, and now Luminous Robin. Parise couldn’t help but think of what a strange man Robin was, he didn’t understand him, he wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill loony-bin guy, he was something else.
Parise strode through the entrance of the church, heading straight over to the confession booth. He cuts in front of several people, one man noticing his identity in the process…
“Woah, hey, you’re Alex….”
“Go to hell.”
Parise walks in to find nothing more than the kneeler, and a small window, on the other side the priest speaks to Parise in a calm and caring voice.
“Come my son, sit.”
“You mean kneel?”
Parise replies with a smug smile across his face, but he sees the priest’s expression through the small window and knees, crossing his hands in the process.
“Now, my son, what do you wish to confess to me today?”
“Oh, well nothing. Quite frankly I’m not the groveling type. I doubt you’ve heard of me, which is why my decision to come here today was all the easier. See, I just, felt like talking to someone who didn’t have a microphone and camera dangling in front of my face. I wanted a break, and I wanted an opinion.”
“Well, it's called confession for a reason, but I suppose I can make an exception to talk with you, you seem troubled, so what is it you would like to ask?”
“When I was a kid growing up, my father, nice guy I guess, would read me stories of Alexander ‘The Great’. While all the other kids were out playing road hockey and video games I was touching up on my history, and my fighting, all because my father wanted me to. I thought if I did what he wanted I would end up like him, tons of money, great life, great marriage, boy was I confused. I was so blinded just trying to be like him I didn’t even realize who he was. Sure, he had money, but I’ve come to understand that money, it just ain’t important, importance lies behind the realm of sitting behind a desk, or a window, or smashing some punks head off the ground one too many times, it’s something that we can’t just buy, it’s something that most don’t receive. When Alexander ‘The Great’ was out at war, he didn’t have anyone truly special waiting at home for him. All he had was his army. Granted one man can get a whole lot of thrive out of an army that follows his every command, but he wanted more, that can be said in the fact that he never stopped, never slowed down, and that’s probably a big reason as to why he died so young. Me, and what I do, how am I any different. I just don’t kill people. But when you really look at what I do, I’m nothing more than an appointed enforcer. You wanna know what I do every week? I meet a man one on one, and I beat him. And people cheer. It really is sickening.”
Although concealed behind the wall, the father gulps, he tries to speak, to comfort the man, but he can’t think of anything to say, he just wants the man to continue, hoping for a positive-turn around.
“I didn’t always do this, you know. I used to be a business man. A manipulative and deceptive business man, yes, but who isn’t? I came here for one reason, I was just trying to get away from something, but I’m still here, and so is everyone else, we’re all drawn to the company. But now there’s no more reason for me to be running, and I can do whatever I want, yet still I’m here. And now, now there’s new people, new enemies, enemies that I’m going to be paid to hospitalize, but…but I don’t know if I want. This man, more of a boy, actually, he doesn’t seem like the cold-hearted bastard I usually get to pound on, he’s…he’s different. Jason is his name, he’s a Robin. He’s such a strange man. I mean with Jimmy, Randy and Seifer, I understood them, their goals. But with Robin, he was offered a chance at what I have ages ago, yet he turned it down, quite frankly he could be anything, he could take whatever he wants, yet he doesn’t, he just sits in the backseat. Quite frankly I’m enthralled by his behavior. I at least want to watch him progress for a while before I take him out, I think it’ll be fun.”
Parise lets out a laugh, but he coughs it out, trying to keep himself calm in the house of the holy. Deep down Parise would like nothing more than to punch through the thin wall and grab the father, tell him to say something; he’d like to do that to anyone. He’s imagined it with just about every person he runs in to, but he just receives the cold laugh that he usually gives everyone else, Alexander finally stepped into the other’s shoes, and he didn’t like what he would see. When he looked at himself in the mirror he felt different, he wanted nothing more than to be great, to everyone else he was, but they knew not of any of his flaws. Sometimes even he forgot them. But that didn’t stop him from feeling sorry for his own sorry hide.
“Father, I put on a nice big happy smile for everyone to see, but I’m weak. Something changed me. I’m not the man I used to be. I used to be funny, strong, no one dared fuck with me.”
“Son…”
“No, I get it, you don’t want me saying that, but it just seems to take a weight off my shoulders. But it never really helps. I just want you to understand, sure, I look young, but on the inside I feel old, when I look at myself in the mirror I see a worn out man…I see him.”
“Sorry, but who?”
He didn’t even refer to him as son anymore; I guess that got Parise off the hook with the ‘father’ crap.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s a story that no one is ready to hear. Sorry, I don’t really want to stay focused on something for too long. It’s the mood swings that are annoying. Sometimes I feel like laughing, others, crying. No one would ever understand me. People are weak, father.”
Parise still referred to him as father, it just felt comforting. After the last comment the priest drew back from the wall, but slowly moved back in, he knew what his job was, but even he hadn’t this kind of encounter in quite some time.
“Look at us. We’re a nation in disaster. And I’m not just talking about the failing economy crap; I couldn’t care less about that. I mean won’t see this stuff on the news because it just gets swept underneath the rug; no one wants to lift a finger about it. The streets are filled with scum, and no one can do anything about it. I'm aware what tremendous feats human beings are capable of once they abandon dignity. Are you? You’d be surprised if you looked at the kind of things that go on down in the world outside of this church.”
“I realize I’m just supposed to listen, but I haven’t really been doing this for very long. I’ve seen what goes on out there, I tried to face it head on, to help people, but I couldn’t. I failed. You can’t do everything by yourself, sometimes you need help. Eventually I gave up, I was a coward, hopefully you can fair better. The things you’ve said, they sound bad, but from your voice, your voice tells me your have a heart, and you aren’t just a cold-blooded man. Don’t put yourself down so much, you never know when things will turn around. And you don’t want to end up like me. Sure, I believe in what I do now, but I can’t do much anymore. I just understand what you’re going through right now…”
“No, you don’t. You have no idea who I am, or what I’m capable off. I’ve destroyed men, Not just physically, but mentally. You have no idea what I’ve done, and now, now I just want it to stop. Beating this man, Robin, it may just be the only way. I don’t want to have to do it, but I have no choice. After I’m done, there will be no Robin anymore, this bird will not be flying, I’m sorry, I truly am, but there’s no way in hell I’m gunna end up like the people I have ravaged in my time, I just can’t do, if I ended up in their shoes, I don’t know what would become of me. After Robin I’ll be free, I can feel it, and if that means that Robin will be gone, so be it.”
Parise manages to let a blood-curdling laughs slip through his lips, and the priest gulps one last time, the World Champion letting his sickening side take control, letting himself break free of the ropes that bound him to the ground. The father doesn’t intervene, he wouldn’t know what to see, he seriously didn’t have any idea what was going on inside of Parise’s head.
"I'm not sorry, father, and I'm not sorry for not being sorry. I'm a prisoner in my head, and no apology will be coming from this man for a very long time. As I said I'm not the grovelling type, but I can't be sorry, for some reason I won't let myself give up. It's not over, I will be strong again, and if that means I won't apologize for the awful things I do, so be it, no one will cross me, and I will be great again."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alexander ‘The Great’ Parise stone alone on the foot of the grand stone steps that led up to the cathedral. People all around the World Champion walked by, some dressed nicely, showing off their cash, some begging for it. Parise barely stood out in his regular old red sport’s jacket and blue jeans. He wore a winter hat that covered his hair and a portion of his hair, making him look rather odd nearing the end of summer. Slowly he stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way up to the large doors. Slowly his hand came free of his pocket and pushed the doors open, in an almost trance-like state.
Despite the cool look on his face Parise was rather tense and worried, not entirely sure what to expect. Alexander wasn’t a holy man, but he was changing, with each week, each new opponent, and each new challenger he felt himself growing farther and farther away from the man he was trying to become. Often times he could feel the evil that he once was crawling inside of him, trying to convince him to do things. Ever since Parise became champion he was trying to be better, to stray away from the path his former partner Jimmy Gimmick went down, but he couldn’t control himself anymore.
At first he thought the World Title was a good thing, always having someone after him to distract him from his mind. But the people he fought, in this business he expected to fight nothing more than devoted athletes, but what he found, he never could have expected. People like Jimmy Gimmick, Seifer Blacke, Randy Orton, and now Luminous Robin. Parise couldn’t help but think of what a strange man Robin was, he didn’t understand him, he wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill loony-bin guy, he was something else.
Parise strode through the entrance of the church, heading straight over to the confession booth. He cuts in front of several people, one man noticing his identity in the process…
“Woah, hey, you’re Alex….”
“Go to hell.”
Parise walks in to find nothing more than the kneeler, and a small window, on the other side the priest speaks to Parise in a calm and caring voice.
“Come my son, sit.”
“You mean kneel?”
Parise replies with a smug smile across his face, but he sees the priest’s expression through the small window and knees, crossing his hands in the process.
“Now, my son, what do you wish to confess to me today?”
“Oh, well nothing. Quite frankly I’m not the groveling type. I doubt you’ve heard of me, which is why my decision to come here today was all the easier. See, I just, felt like talking to someone who didn’t have a microphone and camera dangling in front of my face. I wanted a break, and I wanted an opinion.”
“Well, it's called confession for a reason, but I suppose I can make an exception to talk with you, you seem troubled, so what is it you would like to ask?”
“When I was a kid growing up, my father, nice guy I guess, would read me stories of Alexander ‘The Great’. While all the other kids were out playing road hockey and video games I was touching up on my history, and my fighting, all because my father wanted me to. I thought if I did what he wanted I would end up like him, tons of money, great life, great marriage, boy was I confused. I was so blinded just trying to be like him I didn’t even realize who he was. Sure, he had money, but I’ve come to understand that money, it just ain’t important, importance lies behind the realm of sitting behind a desk, or a window, or smashing some punks head off the ground one too many times, it’s something that we can’t just buy, it’s something that most don’t receive. When Alexander ‘The Great’ was out at war, he didn’t have anyone truly special waiting at home for him. All he had was his army. Granted one man can get a whole lot of thrive out of an army that follows his every command, but he wanted more, that can be said in the fact that he never stopped, never slowed down, and that’s probably a big reason as to why he died so young. Me, and what I do, how am I any different. I just don’t kill people. But when you really look at what I do, I’m nothing more than an appointed enforcer. You wanna know what I do every week? I meet a man one on one, and I beat him. And people cheer. It really is sickening.”
Although concealed behind the wall, the father gulps, he tries to speak, to comfort the man, but he can’t think of anything to say, he just wants the man to continue, hoping for a positive-turn around.
“I didn’t always do this, you know. I used to be a business man. A manipulative and deceptive business man, yes, but who isn’t? I came here for one reason, I was just trying to get away from something, but I’m still here, and so is everyone else, we’re all drawn to the company. But now there’s no more reason for me to be running, and I can do whatever I want, yet still I’m here. And now, now there’s new people, new enemies, enemies that I’m going to be paid to hospitalize, but…but I don’t know if I want. This man, more of a boy, actually, he doesn’t seem like the cold-hearted bastard I usually get to pound on, he’s…he’s different. Jason is his name, he’s a Robin. He’s such a strange man. I mean with Jimmy, Randy and Seifer, I understood them, their goals. But with Robin, he was offered a chance at what I have ages ago, yet he turned it down, quite frankly he could be anything, he could take whatever he wants, yet he doesn’t, he just sits in the backseat. Quite frankly I’m enthralled by his behavior. I at least want to watch him progress for a while before I take him out, I think it’ll be fun.”
Parise lets out a laugh, but he coughs it out, trying to keep himself calm in the house of the holy. Deep down Parise would like nothing more than to punch through the thin wall and grab the father, tell him to say something; he’d like to do that to anyone. He’s imagined it with just about every person he runs in to, but he just receives the cold laugh that he usually gives everyone else, Alexander finally stepped into the other’s shoes, and he didn’t like what he would see. When he looked at himself in the mirror he felt different, he wanted nothing more than to be great, to everyone else he was, but they knew not of any of his flaws. Sometimes even he forgot them. But that didn’t stop him from feeling sorry for his own sorry hide.
“Father, I put on a nice big happy smile for everyone to see, but I’m weak. Something changed me. I’m not the man I used to be. I used to be funny, strong, no one dared fuck with me.”
“Son…”
“No, I get it, you don’t want me saying that, but it just seems to take a weight off my shoulders. But it never really helps. I just want you to understand, sure, I look young, but on the inside I feel old, when I look at myself in the mirror I see a worn out man…I see him.”
“Sorry, but who?”
He didn’t even refer to him as son anymore; I guess that got Parise off the hook with the ‘father’ crap.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s a story that no one is ready to hear. Sorry, I don’t really want to stay focused on something for too long. It’s the mood swings that are annoying. Sometimes I feel like laughing, others, crying. No one would ever understand me. People are weak, father.”
Parise still referred to him as father, it just felt comforting. After the last comment the priest drew back from the wall, but slowly moved back in, he knew what his job was, but even he hadn’t this kind of encounter in quite some time.
“Look at us. We’re a nation in disaster. And I’m not just talking about the failing economy crap; I couldn’t care less about that. I mean won’t see this stuff on the news because it just gets swept underneath the rug; no one wants to lift a finger about it. The streets are filled with scum, and no one can do anything about it. I'm aware what tremendous feats human beings are capable of once they abandon dignity. Are you? You’d be surprised if you looked at the kind of things that go on down in the world outside of this church.”
“I realize I’m just supposed to listen, but I haven’t really been doing this for very long. I’ve seen what goes on out there, I tried to face it head on, to help people, but I couldn’t. I failed. You can’t do everything by yourself, sometimes you need help. Eventually I gave up, I was a coward, hopefully you can fair better. The things you’ve said, they sound bad, but from your voice, your voice tells me your have a heart, and you aren’t just a cold-blooded man. Don’t put yourself down so much, you never know when things will turn around. And you don’t want to end up like me. Sure, I believe in what I do now, but I can’t do much anymore. I just understand what you’re going through right now…”
“No, you don’t. You have no idea who I am, or what I’m capable off. I’ve destroyed men, Not just physically, but mentally. You have no idea what I’ve done, and now, now I just want it to stop. Beating this man, Robin, it may just be the only way. I don’t want to have to do it, but I have no choice. After I’m done, there will be no Robin anymore, this bird will not be flying, I’m sorry, I truly am, but there’s no way in hell I’m gunna end up like the people I have ravaged in my time, I just can’t do, if I ended up in their shoes, I don’t know what would become of me. After Robin I’ll be free, I can feel it, and if that means that Robin will be gone, so be it.”
Parise manages to let a blood-curdling laughs slip through his lips, and the priest gulps one last time, the World Champion letting his sickening side take control, letting himself break free of the ropes that bound him to the ground. The father doesn’t intervene, he wouldn’t know what to see, he seriously didn’t have any idea what was going on inside of Parise’s head.
"I'm not sorry, father, and I'm not sorry for not being sorry. I'm a prisoner in my head, and no apology will be coming from this man for a very long time. As I said I'm not the grovelling type, but I can't be sorry, for some reason I won't let myself give up. It's not over, I will be strong again, and if that means I won't apologize for the awful things I do, so be it, no one will cross me, and I will be great again."
