Post by Tempestad on Jul 8, 2010 19:23:39 GMT -6
“I...have NEVER...abandoned God.”
The camera fades in on Tempestad in the rafters of the Qwest Center, nCw Xtreme Championship slung over his shoulder. His mask no longer bears the rose on it, having been worked out very carefully so as to leave no trace...almost as if it were never there. Tempestad has a white-knuckled grip on the title belt with one of his hands, and his other is balled into a fist. The luchador stands to his full height, internally thankful for the fact that he can stand without hitting his head on one of the support beams and dodge the danger of falling from the high spot to what would inevitably be his demise.
“Gabriel, I have done many things in my life. I have been wrathful. I have been envious. I have sinned, I will admit. But one thing I have not done, and will never do so long as I live, is abandon the Lord. I respect priests. One of my closest friends and the man that raised me is a priest. You...you are not a priest anymore. You preach a twisted Gospel, you practice horrendous forms of “penance”, and you...you spit in the face of the loving Christ I was raised to believe in.”
He unslings the belt, holding it in both hands. He looks at the title, eyes drifting down to the nameplate. He sighs to himself, shaking his head.
“I cannot believe I actually hold a title here...that was my dream...to be a champion...and it has come true. Now, I have this belt...and I will be DAMNED if I let either of you take it from me. Former Xtreme Champions...trying to take back what they might think was rightfully theirs. I am the champion now. I fought for it, I won a match for it. If you want the belt back, you will have to fight like men possessed to have any chance of taking my belt from me. I will wage war to make sure you do not win...and I will take my chance to inflict pain on both of you for what you have taken from me...”
Tempestad walks down the scaffold...and we abruptly cut to a shot of him, in the exact same pose, walking down a hallway. The belt is back around his waist now, but he still has the same grimace. Temp pulls a pair of brass knuckles with “G.A.R.” engraved on them. He slips them on his right hand, grinning as he feels them return to the place they occupied frequently so long ago.
“Gabriel...where do you come from? What sort of life did you lead before becoming...what you think a man of God is? Let me remind you where I came from: the streets. After I left the orphanage, I fell in with some less than reputable men. I was a cholo, yes. I eventually changed my ways...but some habits, some skills...they die hard. I know how to make men bleed. I can make them scream for mercy if I want to. But this match is not about pain...it is just about blood. The spilling of blood...which no doubt gets Sephiroth excited.”
He shakes his head, balling the hand with the knuckles on into a fist and cradling it in his left hand. Temp's crucifix still hangs from his neck, but it looks...polished. As if he had taken extra care to make it look good. It glints in the illumination provided by the hall's lights. Tempestad continues walking, seemingly without a destination...just trying to go somewhere.
“Sephiroth, your prize was not taken from you unfairly. You LOST, plain and simple. And you will lose once again. I can make you bleed. I have seen you bleed. I have seen the bloodlust in your eyes...the uncontrolled savage you can be. I can only imagine the rage that I will unlock when you are bloodied and eliminated...will you be the first to go, Sephiroth? Or will it be Gabriel? Neither of your PRIDES could take that. Your WRATH would boil over, as your ENVY of my status as champion consumed your minds. I know you both well. Tag team partners...enemies...friends...and amazingly enough, Gabriel, I do not hate you more for whipping my sister and disrespecting her as you did. No, I reserve the full extent of my anger for Sephiroth.”
He turns, booting open a door and striding out into the night. Tempestad looks around, glad that he's alone. Sometimes, you don't want to share your emotions or thoughts with anyone but the camera and the millions of viewers at home. Ah, the privacy of being on TV.
“Sephiroth, you took so much from me. You took what hope I had about you. You caused me pain time and time again. You took from me...you took my sister, you SON OF A BITCH! You took the last blood relative I have on this planet and corrupted her into some fiend! I saw a brief glimpse of her at the wedding...I saw what I believe to be the last shreds of her humanity, her decency...but in Paris, that footage...it made me realize that there was nothing I could do. She is lost, and I have lost her...so I am going to make you pay. I am going to make you hurt, and bleed, and suffer. Do you hear me, you fanged abomination?! You are going to BURN!”
He wheels around, walking around the perimeter of the building with an intent glare on his face. His coat flaps behind him as he strides swiftly towards the front.
“You know me. You know my fighting style. Both of you have not been able to defeat me without resorting to shortcuts. Gabriel, I know that you will do absolutely anything if you believe you are in the right...and you always do. Sephiroth, I know that you are deadly when you want to be and brutal in any other case. You have your backup...those towering monstrosities you call associates...and my sister. I just want you to know that if you think, EITHER of you, that you can resort to your usual cheating methods to win, then you are SORELY mistaken. I will win. I can win. And you two will be able to do nothing about it.”
He finds a bench, sitting down. Temp looks up at the night sky, sighing as he watches the stars overhead. He reaches down and instinctively holds the cross tight. Temp closes his eyes, trying to let his stresses and fears leave him.
“I have no one...no family left. She was taken from me...neither of you know my pain. Human emotions abandoned you a long time ago. All that is left are base feelings...nothing to differentiate you from an animal. And if I have to put you down like the animals you are, so be it. I fight for the memory of the sister I have lost to the dark. I fight for my honor. And I fight for this title. I do not need to enjoy this. I do not WANT to enjoy this...but I might. Darkness lurks within us all. Some wear it on their sleeves. Some bury it deep, but we all have our dark sides...Gabriel, Sephiroth...prepare to meet mine.”
Temp stands up, walking off into the night. The camera tracks his receding form into the night, fading out.
The camera fades in on Tempestad in the rafters of the Qwest Center, nCw Xtreme Championship slung over his shoulder. His mask no longer bears the rose on it, having been worked out very carefully so as to leave no trace...almost as if it were never there. Tempestad has a white-knuckled grip on the title belt with one of his hands, and his other is balled into a fist. The luchador stands to his full height, internally thankful for the fact that he can stand without hitting his head on one of the support beams and dodge the danger of falling from the high spot to what would inevitably be his demise.
“Gabriel, I have done many things in my life. I have been wrathful. I have been envious. I have sinned, I will admit. But one thing I have not done, and will never do so long as I live, is abandon the Lord. I respect priests. One of my closest friends and the man that raised me is a priest. You...you are not a priest anymore. You preach a twisted Gospel, you practice horrendous forms of “penance”, and you...you spit in the face of the loving Christ I was raised to believe in.”
He unslings the belt, holding it in both hands. He looks at the title, eyes drifting down to the nameplate. He sighs to himself, shaking his head.
“I cannot believe I actually hold a title here...that was my dream...to be a champion...and it has come true. Now, I have this belt...and I will be DAMNED if I let either of you take it from me. Former Xtreme Champions...trying to take back what they might think was rightfully theirs. I am the champion now. I fought for it, I won a match for it. If you want the belt back, you will have to fight like men possessed to have any chance of taking my belt from me. I will wage war to make sure you do not win...and I will take my chance to inflict pain on both of you for what you have taken from me...”
Tempestad walks down the scaffold...and we abruptly cut to a shot of him, in the exact same pose, walking down a hallway. The belt is back around his waist now, but he still has the same grimace. Temp pulls a pair of brass knuckles with “G.A.R.” engraved on them. He slips them on his right hand, grinning as he feels them return to the place they occupied frequently so long ago.
“Gabriel...where do you come from? What sort of life did you lead before becoming...what you think a man of God is? Let me remind you where I came from: the streets. After I left the orphanage, I fell in with some less than reputable men. I was a cholo, yes. I eventually changed my ways...but some habits, some skills...they die hard. I know how to make men bleed. I can make them scream for mercy if I want to. But this match is not about pain...it is just about blood. The spilling of blood...which no doubt gets Sephiroth excited.”
He shakes his head, balling the hand with the knuckles on into a fist and cradling it in his left hand. Temp's crucifix still hangs from his neck, but it looks...polished. As if he had taken extra care to make it look good. It glints in the illumination provided by the hall's lights. Tempestad continues walking, seemingly without a destination...just trying to go somewhere.
“Sephiroth, your prize was not taken from you unfairly. You LOST, plain and simple. And you will lose once again. I can make you bleed. I have seen you bleed. I have seen the bloodlust in your eyes...the uncontrolled savage you can be. I can only imagine the rage that I will unlock when you are bloodied and eliminated...will you be the first to go, Sephiroth? Or will it be Gabriel? Neither of your PRIDES could take that. Your WRATH would boil over, as your ENVY of my status as champion consumed your minds. I know you both well. Tag team partners...enemies...friends...and amazingly enough, Gabriel, I do not hate you more for whipping my sister and disrespecting her as you did. No, I reserve the full extent of my anger for Sephiroth.”
He turns, booting open a door and striding out into the night. Tempestad looks around, glad that he's alone. Sometimes, you don't want to share your emotions or thoughts with anyone but the camera and the millions of viewers at home. Ah, the privacy of being on TV.
“Sephiroth, you took so much from me. You took what hope I had about you. You caused me pain time and time again. You took from me...you took my sister, you SON OF A BITCH! You took the last blood relative I have on this planet and corrupted her into some fiend! I saw a brief glimpse of her at the wedding...I saw what I believe to be the last shreds of her humanity, her decency...but in Paris, that footage...it made me realize that there was nothing I could do. She is lost, and I have lost her...so I am going to make you pay. I am going to make you hurt, and bleed, and suffer. Do you hear me, you fanged abomination?! You are going to BURN!”
He wheels around, walking around the perimeter of the building with an intent glare on his face. His coat flaps behind him as he strides swiftly towards the front.
“You know me. You know my fighting style. Both of you have not been able to defeat me without resorting to shortcuts. Gabriel, I know that you will do absolutely anything if you believe you are in the right...and you always do. Sephiroth, I know that you are deadly when you want to be and brutal in any other case. You have your backup...those towering monstrosities you call associates...and my sister. I just want you to know that if you think, EITHER of you, that you can resort to your usual cheating methods to win, then you are SORELY mistaken. I will win. I can win. And you two will be able to do nothing about it.”
He finds a bench, sitting down. Temp looks up at the night sky, sighing as he watches the stars overhead. He reaches down and instinctively holds the cross tight. Temp closes his eyes, trying to let his stresses and fears leave him.
“I have no one...no family left. She was taken from me...neither of you know my pain. Human emotions abandoned you a long time ago. All that is left are base feelings...nothing to differentiate you from an animal. And if I have to put you down like the animals you are, so be it. I fight for the memory of the sister I have lost to the dark. I fight for my honor. And I fight for this title. I do not need to enjoy this. I do not WANT to enjoy this...but I might. Darkness lurks within us all. Some wear it on their sleeves. Some bury it deep, but we all have our dark sides...Gabriel, Sephiroth...prepare to meet mine.”
Temp stands up, walking off into the night. The camera tracks his receding form into the night, fading out.