Post by Tempestad on Mar 12, 2011 3:13:35 GMT -6
We fade in on Tempestad kneeling outside a brick building in the middle of a desert. He stands up, looking up. The camera pans up, revealing that the building is in fact a monastery, and that the “desert” is the edge of a town in Mexico. He smiles briefly as he looks up, then looks back down, out towards the city. He speaks, seeming to be in two places, one mentally and one physically.
“What's worth fighting for? How do you find a direction, a cause when you feel like you're adrift in the ocean? Ricky, I ask you this because you, of all men, know what it takes to refocus yourself. You've come back from some dismal moments in your career with renewed drive, with almost unmatchable energy...for about three weeks. Then, you fall back into the middle of the pack. Never wanting to be great, always satisfied with mediocrity. You've held every belt in this company at least once...except the one that people define careers by. You never hear about all the runs people have with the National Title...unless it's to underscore their failures. Now, I know I'm throwing stones from a glass house, but Ricky...one question. What have you done lately?”
He turns around, a skeptical look on his face, and begins slowly walking around the perimeter of the monastery. Temp clasps his hands behind his back as he walks, head up high.
“No, I mean it. Apart from getting blasted in the face by the TTLS, what have you done? Who have you beaten? What on God's green Earth makes you worth my time? Being the perpetual bridesmaid of nCw certainly doesn't. Face it, Ricky. You're not going to the top, no matter how desperately you hold on to that dream. You've had plenty of chances, against everyone this company has to offer. Do you really think that you're ever going to be nCw Champion, Ricky? Are you still thinking that you'll get your chance to dance with the lights on bright, to wit? Is that what motivates you?”
Tempestad shakes his head, turning a corner as he walks. The masked man cracks his knuckles behind his back, hands still clasped together. He pulls his hands back out in front of himself, adjusting his gloves. A note of confusion is audible as Tempestad speaks, but he tries to project confidence more than anything.
“Something has to. There's no reason you'd drag yourself to hell and back, through all the pain you've suffered, if you didn't honestly believe that you were one day going to be king. Ricky, it won't happen. I promise you, it is not going to come to pass. And besides...we've done this dance before. You ran me down, I ran you down, I hit the Guardian Angel and pinned you dead center of the ring, one-two-three. Not much to dispute about that...”
He sighs, pausing his walk. The camera shows the sign outside: Virgén de Guadalupe Orfanato. He smiles, seeing some of the children inside playing and having fun. Temp looks away, beginning to walk again.
“So maybe you'll have better luck this time. You don't have the specter of Roxi's disappearance hanging over you like you did last time, you're focused, you might get lucky. On the other hand, I'm coming off a win and you're coming off a loss. I have momentum, you don't...but things can change in an instant, can't they? You can go from barely scraping by to beating Hall of Famers within a week. Unfortunately for you, Ricky, your luck isn't going to change. You'll lose again, I'll win again...and that's all I have to say about that.”
The masked man grins again, cracking his neck now as he walks away, rounding the corner again. He looks over and pauses, searching the wall with his eyes. He seems to be looking for something specific, but it isn't leaping out at him.
“I've got my sights set on bigger things. Maybe the X Championship? With Joe Ragnal not only gone but no longer champion, and an outstanding receipt for Mr. Rob Diamond, I'd say that getting a crack at it—which wouldn't happen until A Night To Remember at- the earliest—would be a good goal to work towards. Winning here would definitely knock me up the ladder in the Championship Committee's eyes. Or...why stop there? Why not aim for the National Title? I could potentially get a shot at that at Sovereign, and I think I could defeat Jack Manson or Venom. See, Ricky, these are the things in my future. Titles, prestige...and you know what? I could care less about them as long as the fans get damn good matches...son of a bitch, where is it...THERE!”
He grins, spotting a recess in the wall. He shoots his hand in, trying to climb up, and manages it without much difficulty. Temp begins to ascend the side of the monastery, finding the paths that he used to climb as a young man still there, if weathered a bit more by the ravages of time. He pulls himself onto the roof, looking down on the courtyard.
“This brings back memories...good ones, too. I used to perch up here and think about what I was going to do with my life after I left the orphanage. Maybe coming back here will help me focus on what to do next. Ricky, I know what sort of person you were. I have seen the sort of person you are. The question that comes to mind is...what sort of person can you be? How much can you accomplish, how far can you go? I know my answer. I can go to the highest levels this company has. I am a champion, once and future. This match is a showcase of my abilities as much as it is a test of yours. Right now, though...I want to take my mind off nCw for a while and just...relax. When I come back, I'll be sure to give the sort of performance people have come to know and love me for. Until then...vaya con Dios, Ricky. May He bless and watch over you.”
Tempestad lays back on the roof, looking up at the sky with a smile on his face. Fade out.
“What's worth fighting for? How do you find a direction, a cause when you feel like you're adrift in the ocean? Ricky, I ask you this because you, of all men, know what it takes to refocus yourself. You've come back from some dismal moments in your career with renewed drive, with almost unmatchable energy...for about three weeks. Then, you fall back into the middle of the pack. Never wanting to be great, always satisfied with mediocrity. You've held every belt in this company at least once...except the one that people define careers by. You never hear about all the runs people have with the National Title...unless it's to underscore their failures. Now, I know I'm throwing stones from a glass house, but Ricky...one question. What have you done lately?”
He turns around, a skeptical look on his face, and begins slowly walking around the perimeter of the monastery. Temp clasps his hands behind his back as he walks, head up high.
“No, I mean it. Apart from getting blasted in the face by the TTLS, what have you done? Who have you beaten? What on God's green Earth makes you worth my time? Being the perpetual bridesmaid of nCw certainly doesn't. Face it, Ricky. You're not going to the top, no matter how desperately you hold on to that dream. You've had plenty of chances, against everyone this company has to offer. Do you really think that you're ever going to be nCw Champion, Ricky? Are you still thinking that you'll get your chance to dance with the lights on bright, to wit? Is that what motivates you?”
Tempestad shakes his head, turning a corner as he walks. The masked man cracks his knuckles behind his back, hands still clasped together. He pulls his hands back out in front of himself, adjusting his gloves. A note of confusion is audible as Tempestad speaks, but he tries to project confidence more than anything.
“Something has to. There's no reason you'd drag yourself to hell and back, through all the pain you've suffered, if you didn't honestly believe that you were one day going to be king. Ricky, it won't happen. I promise you, it is not going to come to pass. And besides...we've done this dance before. You ran me down, I ran you down, I hit the Guardian Angel and pinned you dead center of the ring, one-two-three. Not much to dispute about that...”
He sighs, pausing his walk. The camera shows the sign outside: Virgén de Guadalupe Orfanato. He smiles, seeing some of the children inside playing and having fun. Temp looks away, beginning to walk again.
“So maybe you'll have better luck this time. You don't have the specter of Roxi's disappearance hanging over you like you did last time, you're focused, you might get lucky. On the other hand, I'm coming off a win and you're coming off a loss. I have momentum, you don't...but things can change in an instant, can't they? You can go from barely scraping by to beating Hall of Famers within a week. Unfortunately for you, Ricky, your luck isn't going to change. You'll lose again, I'll win again...and that's all I have to say about that.”
The masked man grins again, cracking his neck now as he walks away, rounding the corner again. He looks over and pauses, searching the wall with his eyes. He seems to be looking for something specific, but it isn't leaping out at him.
“I've got my sights set on bigger things. Maybe the X Championship? With Joe Ragnal not only gone but no longer champion, and an outstanding receipt for Mr. Rob Diamond, I'd say that getting a crack at it—which wouldn't happen until A Night To Remember at- the earliest—would be a good goal to work towards. Winning here would definitely knock me up the ladder in the Championship Committee's eyes. Or...why stop there? Why not aim for the National Title? I could potentially get a shot at that at Sovereign, and I think I could defeat Jack Manson or Venom. See, Ricky, these are the things in my future. Titles, prestige...and you know what? I could care less about them as long as the fans get damn good matches...son of a bitch, where is it...THERE!”
He grins, spotting a recess in the wall. He shoots his hand in, trying to climb up, and manages it without much difficulty. Temp begins to ascend the side of the monastery, finding the paths that he used to climb as a young man still there, if weathered a bit more by the ravages of time. He pulls himself onto the roof, looking down on the courtyard.
“This brings back memories...good ones, too. I used to perch up here and think about what I was going to do with my life after I left the orphanage. Maybe coming back here will help me focus on what to do next. Ricky, I know what sort of person you were. I have seen the sort of person you are. The question that comes to mind is...what sort of person can you be? How much can you accomplish, how far can you go? I know my answer. I can go to the highest levels this company has. I am a champion, once and future. This match is a showcase of my abilities as much as it is a test of yours. Right now, though...I want to take my mind off nCw for a while and just...relax. When I come back, I'll be sure to give the sort of performance people have come to know and love me for. Until then...vaya con Dios, Ricky. May He bless and watch over you.”
Tempestad lays back on the roof, looking up at the sky with a smile on his face. Fade out.