Post by Tempestad on Jun 17, 2010 23:46:25 GMT -6
“...robbery...miscarriage of justice...bloody tragedy...all of these could be used to describe what happened in the main event of Trauma last week...the key word in that sentence being...”
The camera lowers down onto a shot of Tempestad sitting on the edge of the Bradley Center's roof. He sighs, looking down as he recalls the humiliation he suffered at the hands of his onetime ally Gabriel Karras the week before. He hadn't been able to get revenge for what the deranged priest had done to his sister...and now, now he was wondering if he should have been trying in the first place. The luchador shakes his head, crucifix dangling from his neck as he sits in the still night air.
“Could. But I will spare the good viewers the pain of hearing me recite a litany of complaints about what Gabriel stole from me, as it seems every single member of this company has taken to doing in recent weeks. No, I will just focus on the match. Me versus Tommy Victor, the Xtreme Champion. You know Xtreme well, I take it? Let me remind you that I am no stranger to it either. If you want a sampling of just what I can do in the right circumstances, I suggest you look at my match with Sephiroth from Reborn. I can play the hardcore game with the best of them. But this match of ours is not an Xtreme Rules one. No, we will actually have to wrestle. And that is where I question your ability.”
Tempestad grins to himself, visualizing briefly Karras being put through a table consumed in flames. He grins at the prospect of causing the traitorous and venomous priest pain before resuming his work.
“See, Victor. Many men have worn that belt. And I am sure you have fought many men who excelled in hardcore combat. But have you ever fought a true luchador? Have you ever known what it is like to be blindsided by someone so fast, you register their presence AFTER they hit you? Do you think that you can have any chance against someone like me? Face it, your win over Doc was a fluke. And congratulations on beating Freakke, by the way. Such an accomplishment is worthy of praise...except that beating Freakke is like convincing Jimmy Turner to go loco at a buffet. Really, Victor, you will have to do better than attacking Doc a few times to get me to fear you.”
The Mexican stands up, walking the building's edge without a hint of fear or even of effort. He strides along, speaking with confidence once more.
“If fear is your primary mechanism of ensuring supremacy, then you are fighting a losing battle. Eventually, you will meet someone who is unafraid of you, who will not buckle to your intimidation tactics. Consider yourself lucky that it was me, and not a more ruthless man like Angel, or you might have ended up bloodied and unconscious in a trash can somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas. As it stands, I will be content with pinning you and taking my win. Lay down now, let the pain go away, and make this easy. You are a wrestler in the barest sense of the term, while I...I am a true warrior.”
Temp accelerates, moving at more of a jog now. His jacket is conspicuously absent, and this aids him in maintaining his balance on the precarious footing.
“I am a soldier. I am a survivor. And I refuse to take my loss lying down. I will not wallow in self-pity. Instead, I take the experience and use it to make myself better. There is nothing gained in crying about what cannot be changed. Victor, your former friend Doe has taken leave of this promotion because he knew that he was not up to par. You do realize Sexy Jason once held your title? A belt does not change the fact that you are still woefully inadequate.”
Tempestad spots a lower section of building and grins, taking steps until he's about fifteen feet back. He kneels into a runner's crouch.
“I live for that adrenaline rush. I love it. It makes me feel more alive than anything else on this planet...I wish I could say that about being able to see my sister take an interest in wrestling, but my reservations remain about Sephiroth. He has changed her, and I would not say for the better. I know she is still my sister inside, and that is why I still fight for her.”
Temp explodes out of the crouch, running for the edge of the roof and leaping off when he gets there. He reaches out and grabs the lip of the lower roof with his hand, wincing momentarily from the whiplash effect. He grabs on with his other hand and swings himself back up, checking his footing.
“Do you have something you fight for, Tommy? Do you know how much dedication it takes to fight for what you believe is right and good, even after you have been mocked and injured for it? Do you know my struggle? Of course not. You cannot. All you know are cheap intimidation tactics. Well, guess what: you cannot kidnap those who are dear to me, because it has ALREADY BEEN DONE. Sephiroth took away my sister, so there goes your only real avenue of affecting me. Words are meaningless, Tommy. Only actions can affect me. And what can affect someone that has nothing but actually attacking them?”
Tempestad looks down, estimating the drop distance in his head. He grins as he realizes that he isn't nearly as far up as when he started on the building.
“Victor, I want to assure you that I have nothing against you...personally. You have not said anything to offend me yet. Do I think you are a reprehensible man for attacking the wife of your opponent like you did with Doc? Absolutely. But I reserve my judgment. Doc is not exactly a shining example of all that is right with the world either. In any case, there is not much more to say until you decide to open your mouth finally and grace us with your contribution. Until then...”
Tempestad hops down from the secondary roof and climbs down using the supports, landing in a crouched stance. He looks up, seeing a figure approaching him from across the street. Temp walks towards the figure, who is quickly revealed to be his sister Maria. Temp grins, running over and giving her a light hug, wary of her injuries.
“So good to see you, Maria. I am glad you came...I wanted to be able to talk to you. Alone. Without Sephiroth leering over our shoulders, monitoring every word.”
Maria immediately becomes offended, taking a step back and breaking the hug.
“Why do you always insult mi amor like that? For shame, hermano! He just wants the best for me! What's wrong with that? Can you tell me?”
Temp shakes his head, groaning. He looks at her sternly, trying to channel his older sibling authority.
“Maria. He has changed you...radically. I just wanted to be able to talk to you like the old days. Remember the orphanage, Maria? Remember when we would beg for change just to be able to go buy old Mil Mascaras comics? Do you remember sneaking into that one show in Torreón to see El Hijo del Santo wrestle Espanto Jr.? What happened to then? What happened to those days? I knew you could always be there for a laugh, or a shoulder to lean on. Now...now I am not so sure.”
Maria softens, putting an arm around Temp. She smiles at him, genuine emotion shining through in her expression.
“I understand...I have an idea. How about we go back to the hotel and watch some movies? I think I have your favorite one with me...”
She grins mischievously at Temp, who perks up as if she had just proposed an all-expenses-paid vacation to Tijuana.
“You found a working copy of Santo contra Las Mujeres Vampiro? Ay, hermana! I would love that! Let us go as fast as possible, I think the wait might kill me!”
The two join hands and run off towards their hotel, laughing and generally feeling like children again. Temp looks over to Maria, and smiles as he sees her grinning back at him...but feels wary. Was that a pair of red eyes he saw glaring at him from the bushes? No... Temp brushes it off, as we fade out on the siblings making tracks.
The camera lowers down onto a shot of Tempestad sitting on the edge of the Bradley Center's roof. He sighs, looking down as he recalls the humiliation he suffered at the hands of his onetime ally Gabriel Karras the week before. He hadn't been able to get revenge for what the deranged priest had done to his sister...and now, now he was wondering if he should have been trying in the first place. The luchador shakes his head, crucifix dangling from his neck as he sits in the still night air.
“Could. But I will spare the good viewers the pain of hearing me recite a litany of complaints about what Gabriel stole from me, as it seems every single member of this company has taken to doing in recent weeks. No, I will just focus on the match. Me versus Tommy Victor, the Xtreme Champion. You know Xtreme well, I take it? Let me remind you that I am no stranger to it either. If you want a sampling of just what I can do in the right circumstances, I suggest you look at my match with Sephiroth from Reborn. I can play the hardcore game with the best of them. But this match of ours is not an Xtreme Rules one. No, we will actually have to wrestle. And that is where I question your ability.”
Tempestad grins to himself, visualizing briefly Karras being put through a table consumed in flames. He grins at the prospect of causing the traitorous and venomous priest pain before resuming his work.
“See, Victor. Many men have worn that belt. And I am sure you have fought many men who excelled in hardcore combat. But have you ever fought a true luchador? Have you ever known what it is like to be blindsided by someone so fast, you register their presence AFTER they hit you? Do you think that you can have any chance against someone like me? Face it, your win over Doc was a fluke. And congratulations on beating Freakke, by the way. Such an accomplishment is worthy of praise...except that beating Freakke is like convincing Jimmy Turner to go loco at a buffet. Really, Victor, you will have to do better than attacking Doc a few times to get me to fear you.”
The Mexican stands up, walking the building's edge without a hint of fear or even of effort. He strides along, speaking with confidence once more.
“If fear is your primary mechanism of ensuring supremacy, then you are fighting a losing battle. Eventually, you will meet someone who is unafraid of you, who will not buckle to your intimidation tactics. Consider yourself lucky that it was me, and not a more ruthless man like Angel, or you might have ended up bloodied and unconscious in a trash can somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas. As it stands, I will be content with pinning you and taking my win. Lay down now, let the pain go away, and make this easy. You are a wrestler in the barest sense of the term, while I...I am a true warrior.”
Temp accelerates, moving at more of a jog now. His jacket is conspicuously absent, and this aids him in maintaining his balance on the precarious footing.
“I am a soldier. I am a survivor. And I refuse to take my loss lying down. I will not wallow in self-pity. Instead, I take the experience and use it to make myself better. There is nothing gained in crying about what cannot be changed. Victor, your former friend Doe has taken leave of this promotion because he knew that he was not up to par. You do realize Sexy Jason once held your title? A belt does not change the fact that you are still woefully inadequate.”
Tempestad spots a lower section of building and grins, taking steps until he's about fifteen feet back. He kneels into a runner's crouch.
“I live for that adrenaline rush. I love it. It makes me feel more alive than anything else on this planet...I wish I could say that about being able to see my sister take an interest in wrestling, but my reservations remain about Sephiroth. He has changed her, and I would not say for the better. I know she is still my sister inside, and that is why I still fight for her.”
Temp explodes out of the crouch, running for the edge of the roof and leaping off when he gets there. He reaches out and grabs the lip of the lower roof with his hand, wincing momentarily from the whiplash effect. He grabs on with his other hand and swings himself back up, checking his footing.
“Do you have something you fight for, Tommy? Do you know how much dedication it takes to fight for what you believe is right and good, even after you have been mocked and injured for it? Do you know my struggle? Of course not. You cannot. All you know are cheap intimidation tactics. Well, guess what: you cannot kidnap those who are dear to me, because it has ALREADY BEEN DONE. Sephiroth took away my sister, so there goes your only real avenue of affecting me. Words are meaningless, Tommy. Only actions can affect me. And what can affect someone that has nothing but actually attacking them?”
Tempestad looks down, estimating the drop distance in his head. He grins as he realizes that he isn't nearly as far up as when he started on the building.
“Victor, I want to assure you that I have nothing against you...personally. You have not said anything to offend me yet. Do I think you are a reprehensible man for attacking the wife of your opponent like you did with Doc? Absolutely. But I reserve my judgment. Doc is not exactly a shining example of all that is right with the world either. In any case, there is not much more to say until you decide to open your mouth finally and grace us with your contribution. Until then...”
Tempestad hops down from the secondary roof and climbs down using the supports, landing in a crouched stance. He looks up, seeing a figure approaching him from across the street. Temp walks towards the figure, who is quickly revealed to be his sister Maria. Temp grins, running over and giving her a light hug, wary of her injuries.
“So good to see you, Maria. I am glad you came...I wanted to be able to talk to you. Alone. Without Sephiroth leering over our shoulders, monitoring every word.”
Maria immediately becomes offended, taking a step back and breaking the hug.
“Why do you always insult mi amor like that? For shame, hermano! He just wants the best for me! What's wrong with that? Can you tell me?”
Temp shakes his head, groaning. He looks at her sternly, trying to channel his older sibling authority.
“Maria. He has changed you...radically. I just wanted to be able to talk to you like the old days. Remember the orphanage, Maria? Remember when we would beg for change just to be able to go buy old Mil Mascaras comics? Do you remember sneaking into that one show in Torreón to see El Hijo del Santo wrestle Espanto Jr.? What happened to then? What happened to those days? I knew you could always be there for a laugh, or a shoulder to lean on. Now...now I am not so sure.”
Maria softens, putting an arm around Temp. She smiles at him, genuine emotion shining through in her expression.
“I understand...I have an idea. How about we go back to the hotel and watch some movies? I think I have your favorite one with me...”
She grins mischievously at Temp, who perks up as if she had just proposed an all-expenses-paid vacation to Tijuana.
“You found a working copy of Santo contra Las Mujeres Vampiro? Ay, hermana! I would love that! Let us go as fast as possible, I think the wait might kill me!”
The two join hands and run off towards their hotel, laughing and generally feeling like children again. Temp looks over to Maria, and smiles as he sees her grinning back at him...but feels wary. Was that a pair of red eyes he saw glaring at him from the bushes? No... Temp brushes it off, as we fade out on the siblings making tracks.