Post by Tempestad on Jun 5, 2010 19:11:38 GMT -6
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
- Anonymous
We open on a long, panning shot of the interior of the Palace of Auburn Hills. Showing the ring, the seats, the entrance...every part of the arena is covered. It's eerily empty, with all of the crew having gone home for the night. However, the camera is not alone. Tempestad's voice comes from off screen, eerily cold and bitter, reflecting the deserted state of the arena.
“I tried to be a good man. I worked with all I had to make Sephiroth part of my life, for the sake of my only relation left on this Earth. I gave all I had: my blood, my sweat, my tears. I tried to help make the dream mi hermana had of being a wrestler become a reality. And yet, somehow, I am the bad one here? Maria...Maria...”
The camera pans over to show Tempestad crouched up in the rafters, a grin on his face that communicates cold anger more than any expression of happiness.
“I want to believe that you are still able to be saved. I want to think that deep down, under every charm and bewitchery du Lac has used with you, that you are still the same woman I was...and hopefully, still am...proud to call my sister. You have always been strong, Maria. I have never doubted that for an instant...”
His expression goes from grin to scowl in the blink of an eye.
“But du Lac, you...YOU have done the unthinkable...you defiled my sister. Were it any other man in this locker room save very few, I would have never objected to this entire arrangement. But you...I have seen the bloodlust in your eyes, vampire. I know that you play on mortal men's superstitions and disbelief to shroud what you really are from the world. And how ingenious is it? Anyone who discovers what you really are is pigeonholed as a madman and locked away, while you can continue to spread your corruption unhindered. Bra-vo, Sephiroth. For this, at least, I must acknowledge your twisted genius.”
He stands up, his reduced height allowing him to walk through the rafters without crouching. Tempestad looks down, the heights almost dizzying to any normal man. He just smirks briefly before looking forward once more.
“Do I still believe that my earliest assumptions were correst, and you are in fact a delusional madman who should not be let anywhere near a wrestling ring, or for that matter the general public? Absolutely. But you have cast your charms over my sister, and I must fight with all I am to try to reclaim her. Remember, even Satan was an angel once...which also makes me believe that, between what I have seen of you during our short-lived partnership and the fact that my sister sees something good in you, you have some slight chance of coming back to the path of righteousness. They are long odds, to be sure. But I have never been one to live by the odds.”
Tempestad swings himself around a support beam, finding solid footing on another stretch of rafter. He winds his way through the maze of supports, making his way towards the center of the roof, where he would be directly over the ring.
“Christ said “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.” He preached a gospel of forgiveness, a gospel of nonviolence...but if you think for a moment, Sephiroth, that I will be turning my cheek so that you can strike me once again, then you are dead wrong. I will not take this anymore, Sephiroth. I will not let you make a fool of me any longer. This Sunday, I will beat you and prove once again that I am the better wrestler. You want to mock my so-called “mediocre” skills? I am ten times the athlete you are, fifty times the wrestler, and one hundred times the MAN. If you object to what I say? In the immortal words of so many men, put up...or SHUT UP.”
Tempestad continues picking his way through the scaffolding, shifting gears now to focus on his other opponent for Sunday.
“And Gabriel...I almost forgot about you, Gabriel. In a sense, you are the more terrifying of my opponents. For while Sephiroth is a monster and thus not expected to be bound to any human senses of morality, I know that you are all too human. To see the evil that men do...to see what you will do to “prove your conviction”, sickens me. Gabriel, I always had doubts about you. I always questioned your devotion to the teachings of the Savior...and I have been proven sickeningly right by your abuse, justified or not, of your charge.”
He chuckles to himself, finally making his way to the center of the structure. He looks down, into the ring where, in less than twenty-four hours' time, he will be fighting for his life against a monster and a madman. Temp kneels down, clasping his hands in prayer. He speaks, all the while keeping his gaze focused on the ring to remind himself of the danger inherent in being where he is.
“Lord, give me the guidance to know what I must do. Please, tell me how I should react to the transgressions of both Gabriel and Sephiroth. Tell me how I can retrieve my sister from the abyss she is so precariously teetering on the edge of. I just want to save her...please, tell me how to save her...Lord, I beg you...”
He sighs, looking up finally. Tempestad stands back on his feet and looks around, secure in his footing.
“That little girl has good reason to pray for you, Gabriel. Your soul has been weighed down by your obsessive “need” to purge evil from others. Who gave you the right to judge, Gabriel? Who told you that you alone were the arbiter of what is good and what is not in this world? You are well-intentioned at heart, I believe. But you have become lost. You have become blinded by your own arrogance. You threaten children? You torture your wench, sinner or not? Those are the actions of Inquisitors, not preachers. You have crossed a line that should never be crossed by any man. And it now falls upon me to push you back across that line, whether through fists or words.”
Tempestad begins walking out of the center, heading for the other side of the building from where he started. Once again, his surefootedness is incredibly put on display, even though he moves at a slower pace than he is capable of.
“Why am I up here, you might ask? To be closer to God. I am up in the rafters because I can look down upon this place and see what terrain I will be fighting in. What environment I will be working in. And...somehow, the altitude comforts me. It gives me a pleasurable rush of adrenaline. Of course, in the end what matters is how we interact in the ring. Gabriel, I know how you wrestle from fighting with you. Sephiroth, I have both fought with and against you. We all know how we fight. Now...let us do battle, and you both will see that good...ALWAYS triumphs over evil. In the end, the fact that I have right on my side means that I will triumph. Now, to both of you, sinner and demon, I leave a simple message: may God have mercy on your souls.”
He takes off charging through the rafters, the shot fading out on his receding form.
- Anonymous
We open on a long, panning shot of the interior of the Palace of Auburn Hills. Showing the ring, the seats, the entrance...every part of the arena is covered. It's eerily empty, with all of the crew having gone home for the night. However, the camera is not alone. Tempestad's voice comes from off screen, eerily cold and bitter, reflecting the deserted state of the arena.
“I tried to be a good man. I worked with all I had to make Sephiroth part of my life, for the sake of my only relation left on this Earth. I gave all I had: my blood, my sweat, my tears. I tried to help make the dream mi hermana had of being a wrestler become a reality. And yet, somehow, I am the bad one here? Maria...Maria...”
The camera pans over to show Tempestad crouched up in the rafters, a grin on his face that communicates cold anger more than any expression of happiness.
“I want to believe that you are still able to be saved. I want to think that deep down, under every charm and bewitchery du Lac has used with you, that you are still the same woman I was...and hopefully, still am...proud to call my sister. You have always been strong, Maria. I have never doubted that for an instant...”
His expression goes from grin to scowl in the blink of an eye.
“But du Lac, you...YOU have done the unthinkable...you defiled my sister. Were it any other man in this locker room save very few, I would have never objected to this entire arrangement. But you...I have seen the bloodlust in your eyes, vampire. I know that you play on mortal men's superstitions and disbelief to shroud what you really are from the world. And how ingenious is it? Anyone who discovers what you really are is pigeonholed as a madman and locked away, while you can continue to spread your corruption unhindered. Bra-vo, Sephiroth. For this, at least, I must acknowledge your twisted genius.”
He stands up, his reduced height allowing him to walk through the rafters without crouching. Tempestad looks down, the heights almost dizzying to any normal man. He just smirks briefly before looking forward once more.
“Do I still believe that my earliest assumptions were correst, and you are in fact a delusional madman who should not be let anywhere near a wrestling ring, or for that matter the general public? Absolutely. But you have cast your charms over my sister, and I must fight with all I am to try to reclaim her. Remember, even Satan was an angel once...which also makes me believe that, between what I have seen of you during our short-lived partnership and the fact that my sister sees something good in you, you have some slight chance of coming back to the path of righteousness. They are long odds, to be sure. But I have never been one to live by the odds.”
Tempestad swings himself around a support beam, finding solid footing on another stretch of rafter. He winds his way through the maze of supports, making his way towards the center of the roof, where he would be directly over the ring.
“Christ said “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.” He preached a gospel of forgiveness, a gospel of nonviolence...but if you think for a moment, Sephiroth, that I will be turning my cheek so that you can strike me once again, then you are dead wrong. I will not take this anymore, Sephiroth. I will not let you make a fool of me any longer. This Sunday, I will beat you and prove once again that I am the better wrestler. You want to mock my so-called “mediocre” skills? I am ten times the athlete you are, fifty times the wrestler, and one hundred times the MAN. If you object to what I say? In the immortal words of so many men, put up...or SHUT UP.”
Tempestad continues picking his way through the scaffolding, shifting gears now to focus on his other opponent for Sunday.
“And Gabriel...I almost forgot about you, Gabriel. In a sense, you are the more terrifying of my opponents. For while Sephiroth is a monster and thus not expected to be bound to any human senses of morality, I know that you are all too human. To see the evil that men do...to see what you will do to “prove your conviction”, sickens me. Gabriel, I always had doubts about you. I always questioned your devotion to the teachings of the Savior...and I have been proven sickeningly right by your abuse, justified or not, of your charge.”
He chuckles to himself, finally making his way to the center of the structure. He looks down, into the ring where, in less than twenty-four hours' time, he will be fighting for his life against a monster and a madman. Temp kneels down, clasping his hands in prayer. He speaks, all the while keeping his gaze focused on the ring to remind himself of the danger inherent in being where he is.
“Lord, give me the guidance to know what I must do. Please, tell me how I should react to the transgressions of both Gabriel and Sephiroth. Tell me how I can retrieve my sister from the abyss she is so precariously teetering on the edge of. I just want to save her...please, tell me how to save her...Lord, I beg you...”
He sighs, looking up finally. Tempestad stands back on his feet and looks around, secure in his footing.
“That little girl has good reason to pray for you, Gabriel. Your soul has been weighed down by your obsessive “need” to purge evil from others. Who gave you the right to judge, Gabriel? Who told you that you alone were the arbiter of what is good and what is not in this world? You are well-intentioned at heart, I believe. But you have become lost. You have become blinded by your own arrogance. You threaten children? You torture your wench, sinner or not? Those are the actions of Inquisitors, not preachers. You have crossed a line that should never be crossed by any man. And it now falls upon me to push you back across that line, whether through fists or words.”
Tempestad begins walking out of the center, heading for the other side of the building from where he started. Once again, his surefootedness is incredibly put on display, even though he moves at a slower pace than he is capable of.
“Why am I up here, you might ask? To be closer to God. I am up in the rafters because I can look down upon this place and see what terrain I will be fighting in. What environment I will be working in. And...somehow, the altitude comforts me. It gives me a pleasurable rush of adrenaline. Of course, in the end what matters is how we interact in the ring. Gabriel, I know how you wrestle from fighting with you. Sephiroth, I have both fought with and against you. We all know how we fight. Now...let us do battle, and you both will see that good...ALWAYS triumphs over evil. In the end, the fact that I have right on my side means that I will triumph. Now, to both of you, sinner and demon, I leave a simple message: may God have mercy on your souls.”
He takes off charging through the rafters, the shot fading out on his receding form.