Post by The Brothers Holland on Aug 14, 2010 16:36:46 GMT -6
People fight for many reasons. Some are good, some not. Some people would call certain fights morally grey. Those who fight to their end at any cost often use the term morally grey when they think, when they truly believe that they fight for the greater good.
I've been known to be comfortable with morally grey. My brother... not so much.
*The camera opens on a darkened area. The sound of gravel can be heard as the cameraman walks along. Looking left and right we can see tombstones all around. Most of them look pretty old, if this graveyard's been used anytime recent it's not been for at least 50 years. Milo Holland can be seen in the darkness, a torch in his hand. Not a battery powered one, we're talking a flaming rag on a stick. He runs his hand across the top of an occasional tombstone.*
Milo: Life used to be so simple. So easy. I was a tool. A blunt instrument. Point me in a direction, pull the trigger and watch me work my vicious, visceral magic. This used to be a haunt of mine. I felt strength in this place. The long dead leaving traces of energy, free to be drawn from by the living. By those who know what they're doing and accepting of the risks. My motivations were simple. Be powerful, get more power. That's where it started, that's where it finished. I never understood why, I never much cared.
*Milo reaches a crypt. It's collapsed and has a huge stone over the entrance, as though it was closed up for good a long time ago.*
Milo: But now... now I know. Now I understand. When I was a youngling, forced to do what I could and always failing, always having to be saved by Dave... It filled me with something. Doubt. Doubt in myself, in my abilities. Made me doubt what I could do. It made me hunger, made me angry. I needed to be stronger, to be more. Every fight made me. Every instance of conflict. For years I got stronger and stronger until I became the monster, the beast, the machine everyone knew those years ago. But still I had no direction. No guidance. I had Dave but he's never controlled me, that's not the way he rolls. He guided as best he could but it wasn't until I found another family member that I had direction...
*Milo places a shoulder against one side of the great rock and starts shoving. The rock rolls just enough to show a doorway. It's not complete, parts of it crumbled away til only wall remains, but there's enough for a man to just about get through.*
Milo: I found my father. Though it would be more accurate to say he found me. In the darkest reaches of the netherworld he came to me and joined with me. Heard my soul screaming in agony and from his own personal limbo of hate and anger and regret he sought to help his son. To help both of them as he could. He taught me control... he taught me trust. Trust in my brother, trust in my strength... trust in myself.
*Milo has made his way through a series of stairways until he's come to a great underground chamber. Against one wall can be seen a large stone seat, almost like a throne. One corner of the room has collapsed and been left open to the sky. There's no light as it's nighttime but at the foot of the hole is a bush, red in color and in the light of the torch it looks almost as though it's on fire itself.*
Milo: But then I fell deeper into my own psyche. My soul, flaring with the brightness of two lives drew another to it. One less forthcoming. One less... benevolent. This one was strong and it overpowered me. Once again I was weak and failed. Once again I was thrown into a situation I had no control over and felt weak and helpless. Trapped inside my own mind, my own body. In the end I was saved by both my brother and my father. Guess there's a reason they call me the weaker Holland. It's true enough. But at the same time... I'm the tougher one. The more stubborn one. The one that seemingly cannot be killed. In my relatively short lifetime I have been technically dead twice and yet here I am. The living, breathing, talking, walking miracle that is Milo Holland. The Firestorm.. the Amaranth.
*Milo approaches the bush and runs his hand among the bright red foliage.*
Milo: There was a time I took the name of this plant as my own. It's called Amaranthine, also called the ever-living. It's a pretty apt description of me. But since that day... I don't have a path. Every man fights for something. Some men fight for fear, others for passion. Some fight like Doc for nothing but Glory, or Vengeance like Venom. Some fight just to be noticed or because they're told to by who they deem superior. These men tend to fight on the dark side of the moral scale. The side many of them would call morally grey at best. Those that truly believe though.. those are the really dangerous people. They believe they're right, that they are doing the good and just thing by acting as they do.
Other men though, they fight for others. They fight to save people they care for. They fight to give people what they want. In our business people sometimes fight for nothing besides the fans, just to give them a good show. Some fight for justice, to give people what they deserve, one way or the other. But me... I don't fight for any of these reasons. I fight for no other reason than it's what I do. So before I go into this match... before I fight alongside two men who have things to fight for, and against three others... I need to know.
What am I fighting for?
*Milo takes a handful of the red blossoms and the light goes out, though we can assume it was a scene cut rather than the torch dying. Light comes up again. A cloudy grey sky in a small village. Again we're in a cemetery though this one is obviously smaller and in regular use. Well... as regular use as a small village cemetery can get. The focus of our scene seems to be a pair of black granite stones inscribed with the names 'Megan Abigail Holland' and 'Castor Thomas Holland'.*
Dave: You alright?
Milo: Yeah... just seems longer than a year since we last did this.
*Milo and Dave Holland step forward and place a bunch of flowers each at the grave of their mother.*
Dave: Happy birthday, Mom.
*Milo has stepped back and is leaning against a wall opposite the graves.*
Dave: You sure you're alright?
Milo: Not really, but it's my problems. I'll deal with them.
Dave: What sort of problems? Maybe I can help.
Milo: I doubt it. See, since we went and spoke with jacobsen I've been thinking. Everyone in this match really cares about it. Doc wants the glory, Gibson seems to want just to be noticed really.. Venom wants vengeance against you and me for what we did years ago...
Dave: That was a good match though wasn't it?
Milo: Hell yeah. But then there's Jacobsen with his own personal crusade for Zelda. Real reasons he has driving him on to win this match. And you... you're like some kind of modern age knight or something. Fair damsels, worthy squires.. any and all who need your help, you answer the call with a fire in your belly and a prayer in your heart. The number of times I've watched as people fight you, thinking themselves the truth of their own message and you've shown them that the true avatar is you.. it's unbelievable. This time it's Jacobsen himself you're fighting for. Enabling them that can't enable themselves, albeit not necessarily through their own inadequacy in this instance. The odds they;re facing are shocking and if there's anything I know you like, it's to fight against the odds.
Dave: What are you saying Milo?
Milo: I'm saying... what about me?
Dave: You're the same as me aren't you?
Milo: No Dave, I'm not.
Dave: Oh.. well..
Milo: It's ok. I'm not used to this whole free choice of a conscience thing. First there was Conrad... then the hungering instilled in me by Conrad... then there was Dad and then... then we retired and stopped fighting, This is something I have to figure out myself.
*Dave leans with Milo for a moment and looks back at the graves.*
Dave: Do you remember Mom at all?
Milo: I remember bits... mostly her face.
Dave: Well... she'd constantly be telling us not to fight. She probably doesn't care for our chosen profession as it is. I only hope that when we rejoin her, many many years from now, we can say we only fought the good fight. We chose the side of right and we did what we could to make this world a better place.
Milo: But what if Venom...
Dave: Is right? So what? That's his opinion Milo. It's not the cast iron state of play. We've done this circuit enough times, we know the ins and outs of these corporate stables. These groups of men who work for the big boss. We know what they do and in the end we know who they are. They're the enemy. So if Jacobsen and Knite and everyone else in the Revolution.. if they're the bad guys.. well...
Milo: Heh... let's be bad guys.
Dave: Exactly. And as for a reason to fight, it'll come. It can take a while to find but everyone in the end has their reasons.. even if they don't know it.
*Dave steps up from the wall and walks away to the car in the background. Milo stays a bit longer*
In all my history there's been one constant. One shining light. One beacon of true north. Maybe that's what I need to fight for. Maybe so long as I have a guide, that's enough. I don't need to think too much, don't need to go looking for a week to week, fight to fight reason to bring what I am to the fore. I just show up and protect my guide. He puts himself in danger it's my job to keep him safe.
I fight for my brother...
And that's enough... for now.
*Milo rejoins his brother by the car as the scene slowly fades to black.*
Dave: So when're you seeing that Jenny chick next?
Milo: Dunno... soon though. I was thinking of calling her after our win at Ascension.
Dave: Good... You two seem pretty good together.
Milo: Come on it's only been a couple of dates.
Dave: I know... but I have a sense about these things. I think it's gonna work out. Maybe she'll be your reason to fight.
Milo: Maybe, Dave..... Maybe.
*The scene ends and the video cuts.*
I've been known to be comfortable with morally grey. My brother... not so much.
*The camera opens on a darkened area. The sound of gravel can be heard as the cameraman walks along. Looking left and right we can see tombstones all around. Most of them look pretty old, if this graveyard's been used anytime recent it's not been for at least 50 years. Milo Holland can be seen in the darkness, a torch in his hand. Not a battery powered one, we're talking a flaming rag on a stick. He runs his hand across the top of an occasional tombstone.*
Milo: Life used to be so simple. So easy. I was a tool. A blunt instrument. Point me in a direction, pull the trigger and watch me work my vicious, visceral magic. This used to be a haunt of mine. I felt strength in this place. The long dead leaving traces of energy, free to be drawn from by the living. By those who know what they're doing and accepting of the risks. My motivations were simple. Be powerful, get more power. That's where it started, that's where it finished. I never understood why, I never much cared.
*Milo reaches a crypt. It's collapsed and has a huge stone over the entrance, as though it was closed up for good a long time ago.*
Milo: But now... now I know. Now I understand. When I was a youngling, forced to do what I could and always failing, always having to be saved by Dave... It filled me with something. Doubt. Doubt in myself, in my abilities. Made me doubt what I could do. It made me hunger, made me angry. I needed to be stronger, to be more. Every fight made me. Every instance of conflict. For years I got stronger and stronger until I became the monster, the beast, the machine everyone knew those years ago. But still I had no direction. No guidance. I had Dave but he's never controlled me, that's not the way he rolls. He guided as best he could but it wasn't until I found another family member that I had direction...
*Milo places a shoulder against one side of the great rock and starts shoving. The rock rolls just enough to show a doorway. It's not complete, parts of it crumbled away til only wall remains, but there's enough for a man to just about get through.*
Milo: I found my father. Though it would be more accurate to say he found me. In the darkest reaches of the netherworld he came to me and joined with me. Heard my soul screaming in agony and from his own personal limbo of hate and anger and regret he sought to help his son. To help both of them as he could. He taught me control... he taught me trust. Trust in my brother, trust in my strength... trust in myself.
*Milo has made his way through a series of stairways until he's come to a great underground chamber. Against one wall can be seen a large stone seat, almost like a throne. One corner of the room has collapsed and been left open to the sky. There's no light as it's nighttime but at the foot of the hole is a bush, red in color and in the light of the torch it looks almost as though it's on fire itself.*
Milo: But then I fell deeper into my own psyche. My soul, flaring with the brightness of two lives drew another to it. One less forthcoming. One less... benevolent. This one was strong and it overpowered me. Once again I was weak and failed. Once again I was thrown into a situation I had no control over and felt weak and helpless. Trapped inside my own mind, my own body. In the end I was saved by both my brother and my father. Guess there's a reason they call me the weaker Holland. It's true enough. But at the same time... I'm the tougher one. The more stubborn one. The one that seemingly cannot be killed. In my relatively short lifetime I have been technically dead twice and yet here I am. The living, breathing, talking, walking miracle that is Milo Holland. The Firestorm.. the Amaranth.
*Milo approaches the bush and runs his hand among the bright red foliage.*
Milo: There was a time I took the name of this plant as my own. It's called Amaranthine, also called the ever-living. It's a pretty apt description of me. But since that day... I don't have a path. Every man fights for something. Some men fight for fear, others for passion. Some fight like Doc for nothing but Glory, or Vengeance like Venom. Some fight just to be noticed or because they're told to by who they deem superior. These men tend to fight on the dark side of the moral scale. The side many of them would call morally grey at best. Those that truly believe though.. those are the really dangerous people. They believe they're right, that they are doing the good and just thing by acting as they do.
Other men though, they fight for others. They fight to save people they care for. They fight to give people what they want. In our business people sometimes fight for nothing besides the fans, just to give them a good show. Some fight for justice, to give people what they deserve, one way or the other. But me... I don't fight for any of these reasons. I fight for no other reason than it's what I do. So before I go into this match... before I fight alongside two men who have things to fight for, and against three others... I need to know.
What am I fighting for?
*Milo takes a handful of the red blossoms and the light goes out, though we can assume it was a scene cut rather than the torch dying. Light comes up again. A cloudy grey sky in a small village. Again we're in a cemetery though this one is obviously smaller and in regular use. Well... as regular use as a small village cemetery can get. The focus of our scene seems to be a pair of black granite stones inscribed with the names 'Megan Abigail Holland' and 'Castor Thomas Holland'.*
Dave: You alright?
Milo: Yeah... just seems longer than a year since we last did this.
*Milo and Dave Holland step forward and place a bunch of flowers each at the grave of their mother.*
Dave: Happy birthday, Mom.
*Milo has stepped back and is leaning against a wall opposite the graves.*
Dave: You sure you're alright?
Milo: Not really, but it's my problems. I'll deal with them.
Dave: What sort of problems? Maybe I can help.
Milo: I doubt it. See, since we went and spoke with jacobsen I've been thinking. Everyone in this match really cares about it. Doc wants the glory, Gibson seems to want just to be noticed really.. Venom wants vengeance against you and me for what we did years ago...
Dave: That was a good match though wasn't it?
Milo: Hell yeah. But then there's Jacobsen with his own personal crusade for Zelda. Real reasons he has driving him on to win this match. And you... you're like some kind of modern age knight or something. Fair damsels, worthy squires.. any and all who need your help, you answer the call with a fire in your belly and a prayer in your heart. The number of times I've watched as people fight you, thinking themselves the truth of their own message and you've shown them that the true avatar is you.. it's unbelievable. This time it's Jacobsen himself you're fighting for. Enabling them that can't enable themselves, albeit not necessarily through their own inadequacy in this instance. The odds they;re facing are shocking and if there's anything I know you like, it's to fight against the odds.
Dave: What are you saying Milo?
Milo: I'm saying... what about me?
Dave: You're the same as me aren't you?
Milo: No Dave, I'm not.
Dave: Oh.. well..
Milo: It's ok. I'm not used to this whole free choice of a conscience thing. First there was Conrad... then the hungering instilled in me by Conrad... then there was Dad and then... then we retired and stopped fighting, This is something I have to figure out myself.
*Dave leans with Milo for a moment and looks back at the graves.*
Dave: Do you remember Mom at all?
Milo: I remember bits... mostly her face.
Dave: Well... she'd constantly be telling us not to fight. She probably doesn't care for our chosen profession as it is. I only hope that when we rejoin her, many many years from now, we can say we only fought the good fight. We chose the side of right and we did what we could to make this world a better place.
Milo: But what if Venom...
Dave: Is right? So what? That's his opinion Milo. It's not the cast iron state of play. We've done this circuit enough times, we know the ins and outs of these corporate stables. These groups of men who work for the big boss. We know what they do and in the end we know who they are. They're the enemy. So if Jacobsen and Knite and everyone else in the Revolution.. if they're the bad guys.. well...
Milo: Heh... let's be bad guys.
Dave: Exactly. And as for a reason to fight, it'll come. It can take a while to find but everyone in the end has their reasons.. even if they don't know it.
*Dave steps up from the wall and walks away to the car in the background. Milo stays a bit longer*
In all my history there's been one constant. One shining light. One beacon of true north. Maybe that's what I need to fight for. Maybe so long as I have a guide, that's enough. I don't need to think too much, don't need to go looking for a week to week, fight to fight reason to bring what I am to the fore. I just show up and protect my guide. He puts himself in danger it's my job to keep him safe.
I fight for my brother...
And that's enough... for now.
*Milo rejoins his brother by the car as the scene slowly fades to black.*
Dave: So when're you seeing that Jenny chick next?
Milo: Dunno... soon though. I was thinking of calling her after our win at Ascension.
Dave: Good... You two seem pretty good together.
Milo: Come on it's only been a couple of dates.
Dave: I know... but I have a sense about these things. I think it's gonna work out. Maybe she'll be your reason to fight.
Milo: Maybe, Dave..... Maybe.
*The scene ends and the video cuts.*