Post by Sephiroth du Lac on Feb 27, 2010 9:42:34 GMT -6
((Author's Note: The following is a representation of an idea. One who's very connotation wear upon my nerves. The idea that man is ultimately alone. I do not believe this is so, not just on a personal level but on a metaphysical one. No man is an island.))
“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell”
-Oscar Wilde
“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell”
-Oscar Wilde
*The camera falls once more on the interior of the massive complex known as Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in Weston, WV. The large complexes labyrinthine halls once held countless deviants and malefactors mixed in with the twisted and degenerate. Among them also were those of ill education and the members of society unfit to help themselves. The mixture of people was staggering estimated at one time to consist of 28,000 patients at once. As we stare down these old decrepit corridors and dank abandoned sections of the 100 year old facility we find Sephiroth du Lac standing in what looks like the remnence of a common room. Old wheelchairs lie strewn about near empty tables. A large cage of steel mesh separates the main halls from this room, and an observation area, complete with thick dust covered glass sits. The room has the feel of eyes upon you and as Seph stares one can almost hear the unseen whisperings of ranting patients. Forever ranting in the dark. Seph just smiled as the whispers raise once more. Amplifying in noise to an almost unbearable degree before suddenly ceasing. Seph turned quickly hearing instead of deathly whispers of the pleading dead, a new noise. Heavy footsteps. Made by the living. A gentlemen in his mid thirties walks up to the door of the gate stopping for a brief moment. Seph just nods politely and the man enters the enclosed area. He addresses Seph has he approaches and Seph greets him with a look of apathy and indifference.*
Seph: Is everything ready for my match this week, Mr. Randolf?
*The man drops his head. His legs shake slightly, despite his large frame, the man shows a twinge of nervousness and fear as he addresses Seph.*
Man: Yes, sir, Mr. Du Lac. We chained all the exits save for the entrance area, all the stairwells to the upper floors are caged in, as per your instructions, but... um...
*Seph turned to address the man, a look of prideful disgust upon his face as he addressed the simple blue collar worker. It is clear Seph has no love for the lower class.*
Seph: Is there a problem?
*The man seemed nervous. This was a big job. Sealing off a small section for the actual match was no easy task. Nor was the fact that the electrical outlets still had to be rewired for proper transmission. The man knew it was a big deal but he was not a fan of wrestling. The only reason he had even taken the job was for the money. NCW had offered a huge amount and he was the lowest bidder. But the man they had sent him to work for was creepier than anyone else he had met and now here he was, standing before a man that made his very hair stand on end. Eventually he stirred his courage and responded.*
Man: Well, we closed off the under section in the basement area but I got to tell you, Mr. Du Lac. It looks as if bums were living down there. We found someone's stuff but we didn't find anyone in particular.
Seph: I wouldn't worry too much about it, my dear Mr. Randolf, I've taken care of the vagrant problem... personally.
*Seph just smiled with a knowing smile and just then the camera flashes showing an old man in one of the more decaying parts of the asylum suddenly screaming as if the viewer is some monster he is seeing, and as a silhouette forms around him we see Seph's face twisted into a snarl as he screams one last time. Then suddenly we are back to reality and Seph just smiles darkly at the man before him. The man seems confused and a bit unnerved at this.*
Man: Uh... okay. I'm going to check out the pipes down there. Make sure none will bust on impact. Okay?
Seph: Do what you must, Mr. Randolf. I have time. All the time in the world.
*with that the man turns to leave. He looks back for a split second and Seph just stands staring at him unblinking. The man turns back and begins to head toward the cage door. Seph just turns back to us as the man exits. His smile is every bit the way one would picture a demon's. His elongated canine teeth sends shiver up one's spine. And his eyes give off the look of a cat toying with a mouse.*
Seph: So, you want an epic battle, do you, Mr. Tempestad? One for the ages? One that the modern bards of the internet will record for posterity? You want me to pledge my best to you? To give you all my strength? All my fury? I say this and I say this well and good to you, Tempestad. I shall give you what you desire. But I have to ask... why? Why do you seek to entertain here? You see I don't think you get what I want to do, Mr. Tempestad. What I can accomplish here. Why I chose this place out of all the locations I could have chosen. It's because here... I am at my best. Here there is no way out.
*Seph just smiles and begins to pace toward the cage of the area. He speaks calmly and cool to the camera, as if giving Tempestad some sort of advise.*
Seph: You see, Tempestad, blood is not the only thing that fuels one of my kind. Emotions, trauma, anger, these things we can sense. We can feel them and like a parasite we can feed off the psychic energy of the place. It's a technique rarely gifted and even less well known for even among our annuls it is only known to those of us who are known as a Methuselah. That is the term we use to describe us that are over a thousand.
*He stops short of the gate and smiles to himself before sighing and moving on.*
Seph: So, why am I telling you this, Mr. Tempestad? It's quite simple. See I notice something that you said. You feed off the cheers of the crowd. They're adoration. They're approval. You listen to the cheers and jeers of the crowd and it drives you on. It spurs you to victory. You cherish them. You love them. You take strength from them, and while this telecast maybe viewed all over the world. While this match may be watched by millions of people. While Nashville, Tennessee maybe sold out completely with thousands of cheering fans... you are here. You see while they can see and hear us, you can't see or hear them. There will be nothing but silence here. Your fans, your so called strength, it wanes here. There will be no cheering masses to pump you up. No, little children who's faces you can look at and draw courage. No, here you have no strength from the cheering, maddening crowd. I however draw strength from this place. It's madness. It's despair. It's fear and it's anger are mine. Even now I can barely contain it and it thrills me, fills me with untold power.
*Seph stops and breathes deep the air as if suddenly filling his very lungs with the energy he described.*
Seph: Here I am at my fullest. Here I am like unto a god. Here I am hatred personified, an avatar of madness. Do you see now your mistake, Tempestad? Do you see now the flaw in your logic? And just in case you have any lingering feelings of courageousness in that masked draped skull of yours I suppose I should tell you one more thing.
*He pauses as the camera rolls on. He slightly shifts his body to one side and drapes his head in a sudden serene calmness. then the angle changes in a sudden burst of speed and fury and the camera switches it's sight to the other side of the cage as Seph slams into it grasping in between it's links. The cage rattles and a violent jingling of the cage is heard as Seph snarls, his fangs laid bare like that of a true monster. He just chuckles as the camera seemingly flinches from his reaction but stays locked on him.*
Seph: There is no way out.
*He smiles vilely as if lost in some sort of lust. He runs his tongue along the chains in front of his face. A rusty cage link runs along it and he pulls back licking his lips in some sort of bizarre display that is both erotic in presentation and extremely disturbing. He then falls back to his feet and begins pacing the cage. Like a wild animal.*
Seph: The stairwells are blockaded by cages just like this. The windows are barred. The doors are locked. No one is to leave before the dawn. Once you enter this place, Tempestad, that is it. Your trapped here. The only way out is to win. Lose and you will spend the night here among the mad and the damned. Do you feel it now, Tempestad? The terror welling up in your chest? You should for when I am done with you I will simply...
*He opens the cage door and walks out.*
Seph: Walk away, and when I do I shall leave you to the mad fevered dreams of the dead. I know your people, Tempestad. I know their fixation with death and even the bravest among them would shy at such an endeavor. Imagine the emotions of 28,000 mad men crashing down upon you. For you see, Tempestad... while you will be utterly alone here.
*Suddenly the lights flicker and as they do one figure clad in hospital gown stands behind Seph then another and another. Each with black hoods upon their faces. The cage begins to fill up as the light flickers continuously. They begin to be on the cage as if staring through it at the figure of Seph staring calmly forward. The room behind him is about to burst and suddenly the lights stay on for a bit showing a mass of people clad in rust stained garments and black hoods all moving their head in quick otherworldly motions before the lights flicker once more and then raise revealing nothing is there. Seph just chuckles and says in a calm voice.*
Seph: I won't be.
*With that he walks off screen and suddenly the screen flickers and flashes going to static...
the camera reopens on the dark basement area of the facility. A place where the most dangerous were kept. It is here, flashlight in hand we find the mysterious Mr. Randall opening one of the pipes. He sticks his hand in and flinches at the stench.*
Man: Ugh... disgusting. What's stuck in here?
*He strains until finally he pulls up. As he does we find that his arm is covered in crimson red and at the end of his hand seems to be a human hand. He points the flashlight at it and cries out in the dark.*
Man: What the f***?!
Voice from behind: Do you think this is a problem?
*With that the man spins around and the flashlight shines on the face of Sephiroth. His fangs bear as he charges and snarls. And all we hear as the screen fades to black is Mr. Randolf's last blood curdling scream.*