Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Feb 27, 2010 17:12:49 GMT -6
We open on the interior of the FedEx Forum. Tempestad walks the halls, coat lightly dusting the ground behind him. His head is bowed in thought, and in the distance you can hear the sounds of various entrances being tested and retested to ensure that everything goes right for Sunday's live broadcast. He speaks while still looking down, the cameraman handily keeping pace.
“Yes, I know that there will be nobody there for our match. It will be two men and the specters of the past. I will not have the roaring crowd there to cheer me on...but they will be there in spirit. I will know they are watching, and that will give me strength to defeat you. You say you feed on emotions? Well fine. You can feed on my anger, my hope, and what little despair I feel. I have the KNOWLEDGE that they are watching, cheering. And, as I have said before and I will say a million times before you get my point...I am NEVER alone. I have the Lord with me, always. He watches over me, and I know that with His guidance and His protection, I cannot fail. We are both superbly confident in our chances of winning, Sephiroth...but only one of us can have our confidence proven just.”
He passes a merchandising booth, where T-shirts and other bits of memorabilia are being set up for sale. Amongst them is a shirt that shows Tempestad in bluescale staring down Sephiroth in redscale, with “nCw Crossroads: Battle For Your Life” underneath in letters that start out red on Sephiroth's side, but shift to blue on Tempestad's. He smirks, shaking his head before continuing to walk.
“Even the boys in merchandising know that this will be a glorious struggle...I have noticed that we are both somewhat formulaic in our promos. To paraphrase my hardcore-inclined friend, mine are 'talk talk God, talk talk quote the Bible, talk talk I will defeat you, talk talk abomination unto the Lord, talk talk.' Yours are slightly more interesting. They go like 'talk talk reference to vampirism, talk talk veiled reference to tragic past, talk talk lament, talk talk murder.' The only thing that really varies in yours is that you never know who you are going to send to an untimely grave until the very end. Of course, our little videos mean nothing when we actually have to fight. Your mouth is not a weapon, despite what some people would try to propagate. No, we will have to fight with our hands and feet. Your mind games will not work on me. They HAVE not worked on me. No underhanded tactics will get you a shortcut through this match. No, you will have to WORK for this win. You will have to beat me until I am unmoving if you want to pin me, because as long as there is an ounce of strength left in my body, I WILL kick out.”
Tempestad walks by a concession stand, the metal screen drawn down over the counter. He uses his hands to illustrate what he is saying as he walks.
“You function as a creature that feeds on despair, you tell me. Well, I will starve you. I will make you hunger for some fuel. You know what happens when you starve a fire, correct? It dies. It sputters, consuming the last bits of oxygen. It will do everything it can to continue. But eventually it must die. Feed on the souls of the lost that linger in the halls of that asylum, Sephiroth. I will draw on my faith in the Lord and the faith the fans have in me. They do not need to be there for me to know they are watching.”
He taps his heart, revealing that he has had a crucifix pattern stitched over the left breast of his jacket.
“You know, you misrepresent how my people feel about death. We do not lament as many other people do. No, we celebrate our departed. Dia de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead. I do not fear you at all, Sephiroth. I cast aside fear. 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.' Psalm 23...it is a most comforting piece of verse. It reminds me that the Lord watches over His faithful and protects them from the darkness.”
Tempestad smiles, drawing a small metal crucifix from within his coat on a chain around his neck. He kisses it, reciting a prayer under his breath. Tempestad walks into the main arena area itself, standing in the upper rows of the lower section. He looks around, smiling.
“Twenty thousand on hand to witness nCw Crossroads. A World Title match between a man who went a decade before finally claiming the nCw Title and another man who hungers for it after decades. The X-Division Title being contested between two of the most skilled young men in the company. Tag Team, Honor, National, every title in the company will be decided Sunday. But Sunday cannot be a day of rest for me. Indeed, I must be the most active and hard-working then, for only if I work hard will I prevail. As much as I hate to admit it, you have pushed me harder than any opponent I have ever faced, Sephiroth. You make me work, you make me fight. And I pray that this hard work will pay off when I am able to defeat you finally and leave you in that asylum to rot.”
Tempestad begins slowly walking down the aisle, looking at the expansive area that is the FedEx Forum. Below, you can vaguely make out a figure pacing around the ring.
“I feel as if I am rehashing myself. There is only so much I can say: you murder, you blaspheme, you play mind games that fail, and I will defeat you. Apart from that...there is still a part of me that wants to save you. Deep down, there is a fragment of my being that believes there is some redemption possible for a soul such as yours. The forgiveness and patience of God is, after all, infinite. I am not the Lord, however. My patience is very finite, and you have expended it. Now, you face a determined crusader. There are two choices for you at the end of the day, Sephiroth: surrender, or be humiliated.”
He sits in one of the seats, looking up to the ceiling. Tempestad smiles as he ponders his strategy for the match.
“I suppose the only thing I have left to say to you, Sephiroth, is...good luck. After all of this, I wish you luck. Because luck is what it will take for you to defeat me. No more cut corners. No more backdoor strategies. Just you and me in a bloody struggle to finally find out which one of us is better. God be with me...and may God have mercy on you.”
A figure charges up the aisle, large gold belt glinting around his waist. It's quickly confirmed that the figure is Andrew Jacobsen, who charges past with a few words of warning.
“TURNER IN THE BUILDING! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!”
Tempestad ponders this for half a second, then turns and follows Andrew, groaning, as the scene fades to black.
“Yes, I know that there will be nobody there for our match. It will be two men and the specters of the past. I will not have the roaring crowd there to cheer me on...but they will be there in spirit. I will know they are watching, and that will give me strength to defeat you. You say you feed on emotions? Well fine. You can feed on my anger, my hope, and what little despair I feel. I have the KNOWLEDGE that they are watching, cheering. And, as I have said before and I will say a million times before you get my point...I am NEVER alone. I have the Lord with me, always. He watches over me, and I know that with His guidance and His protection, I cannot fail. We are both superbly confident in our chances of winning, Sephiroth...but only one of us can have our confidence proven just.”
He passes a merchandising booth, where T-shirts and other bits of memorabilia are being set up for sale. Amongst them is a shirt that shows Tempestad in bluescale staring down Sephiroth in redscale, with “nCw Crossroads: Battle For Your Life” underneath in letters that start out red on Sephiroth's side, but shift to blue on Tempestad's. He smirks, shaking his head before continuing to walk.
“Even the boys in merchandising know that this will be a glorious struggle...I have noticed that we are both somewhat formulaic in our promos. To paraphrase my hardcore-inclined friend, mine are 'talk talk God, talk talk quote the Bible, talk talk I will defeat you, talk talk abomination unto the Lord, talk talk.' Yours are slightly more interesting. They go like 'talk talk reference to vampirism, talk talk veiled reference to tragic past, talk talk lament, talk talk murder.' The only thing that really varies in yours is that you never know who you are going to send to an untimely grave until the very end. Of course, our little videos mean nothing when we actually have to fight. Your mouth is not a weapon, despite what some people would try to propagate. No, we will have to fight with our hands and feet. Your mind games will not work on me. They HAVE not worked on me. No underhanded tactics will get you a shortcut through this match. No, you will have to WORK for this win. You will have to beat me until I am unmoving if you want to pin me, because as long as there is an ounce of strength left in my body, I WILL kick out.”
Tempestad walks by a concession stand, the metal screen drawn down over the counter. He uses his hands to illustrate what he is saying as he walks.
“You function as a creature that feeds on despair, you tell me. Well, I will starve you. I will make you hunger for some fuel. You know what happens when you starve a fire, correct? It dies. It sputters, consuming the last bits of oxygen. It will do everything it can to continue. But eventually it must die. Feed on the souls of the lost that linger in the halls of that asylum, Sephiroth. I will draw on my faith in the Lord and the faith the fans have in me. They do not need to be there for me to know they are watching.”
He taps his heart, revealing that he has had a crucifix pattern stitched over the left breast of his jacket.
“You know, you misrepresent how my people feel about death. We do not lament as many other people do. No, we celebrate our departed. Dia de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead. I do not fear you at all, Sephiroth. I cast aside fear. 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.' Psalm 23...it is a most comforting piece of verse. It reminds me that the Lord watches over His faithful and protects them from the darkness.”
Tempestad smiles, drawing a small metal crucifix from within his coat on a chain around his neck. He kisses it, reciting a prayer under his breath. Tempestad walks into the main arena area itself, standing in the upper rows of the lower section. He looks around, smiling.
“Twenty thousand on hand to witness nCw Crossroads. A World Title match between a man who went a decade before finally claiming the nCw Title and another man who hungers for it after decades. The X-Division Title being contested between two of the most skilled young men in the company. Tag Team, Honor, National, every title in the company will be decided Sunday. But Sunday cannot be a day of rest for me. Indeed, I must be the most active and hard-working then, for only if I work hard will I prevail. As much as I hate to admit it, you have pushed me harder than any opponent I have ever faced, Sephiroth. You make me work, you make me fight. And I pray that this hard work will pay off when I am able to defeat you finally and leave you in that asylum to rot.”
Tempestad begins slowly walking down the aisle, looking at the expansive area that is the FedEx Forum. Below, you can vaguely make out a figure pacing around the ring.
“I feel as if I am rehashing myself. There is only so much I can say: you murder, you blaspheme, you play mind games that fail, and I will defeat you. Apart from that...there is still a part of me that wants to save you. Deep down, there is a fragment of my being that believes there is some redemption possible for a soul such as yours. The forgiveness and patience of God is, after all, infinite. I am not the Lord, however. My patience is very finite, and you have expended it. Now, you face a determined crusader. There are two choices for you at the end of the day, Sephiroth: surrender, or be humiliated.”
He sits in one of the seats, looking up to the ceiling. Tempestad smiles as he ponders his strategy for the match.
“I suppose the only thing I have left to say to you, Sephiroth, is...good luck. After all of this, I wish you luck. Because luck is what it will take for you to defeat me. No more cut corners. No more backdoor strategies. Just you and me in a bloody struggle to finally find out which one of us is better. God be with me...and may God have mercy on you.”
A figure charges up the aisle, large gold belt glinting around his waist. It's quickly confirmed that the figure is Andrew Jacobsen, who charges past with a few words of warning.
“TURNER IN THE BUILDING! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!”
Tempestad ponders this for half a second, then turns and follows Andrew, groaning, as the scene fades to black.