Post by Falcon on Feb 28, 2008 9:18:34 GMT -6
(When it rains, it pours. Only a little more than a hundred miles away, up in Boston, it is also raining. Hard enough that people actually call out of work for fear of driving in it. Somewhere in the distance a bell tolls. It has that deep, hollow pleasant sound that you hear from church bells. We focus in on marble steps outside a building. The building itself is desolate, devoid of care and maintenance. Almost as if someone had just had enough and walked away. Falcon is sitting on the stairs, arms resting on his knees with his head slumped as though he was either sleeping or dead. The camera edges in slowly, as if unsure as to whether he is in any condition to speak or not. Falcon raises his head slightly to sort of acknowledge at least to himself that the camera was present and waiting. He seems entirely unpreturbed by the rain, though his facepaint would be worse for wear. If he was wearing it.)
Falcon: The answer to your question lies right behind me. This building used to be Saint Christopher's church. I say used to be because they got funding from some aging corporate CEO a couple years ago and moved into a newer, much more modern, and much more spacious building six blocks or so down the road. In fact that probably was the bell you heard. I used to come here for Sunday mass and bible study three times a week. I was fed the same story everyone was in church. God created it all and you should love him and fear him for he is better than you. Sort of makes sense doesn't it? I mean, it had to all come from somewhere and in my heart of hearts I'll put my dollar on one almighty being than a cosmic coin flip. But that's not really the point is it. When I was a child, coming here to listen to an old man read passages in his monotone voice, I asked god for one thing. That was when I discovered what I wanted to do with my life, I just wanted his support behind me. And as you stated, I seem to have that. Six week injuries.. I'm back in two, just as capable as I was before. Being chosen seems a little more than I would think to call myself, but then again you are the religious expert and I'm just little old me. The underdog is a label that someone has to bear in every encounter, and since the shoe fits.. I'll wear it.
(He stands up, half turning toward the old abandoned church as the rain lightens a little, but not much.)
Falcon: Job huh..? It honestly hadn't occured to me until you said it, that's exactly what several people have tried to do. Take away everything I cherish, and what do I have left? A half finished legacy and enough blood spilt to start a drive. I'm far from perfect Angel. You think being this holy soldier of the wrestling world makes me perfect? Being this lunatic high flyer that knows no fear and is completely immune to pain makes me this saint? It makes me a model employee, Angel. The front office thinks that they can use me whatever the way they want, put in whatever kind of hell they want to see and I'll be fine with it. That may even be true on some level, but it doesn't give me a ton of breathing room when I need a minute for myself. So in a way, you're more than right. Job had no choice but to take what happened to him in stride, and neither do I. This match is going to be not only a dream for the fans, but for the both of us as well. You know that deep down you care just as much what those fans are saying after the night ends and everyone goes home. The very talent you were given has pushed that feeling deep into the background of your psyche, but I know it's there. I felt it three years ago, and I see it in your eyes everytime I look at you. You cannot hide the truth forever Angel. You need only look inside yourself to see me, but I can do the same and find out all about you. You and I are opposite sides of the same mirror, one half the shiney reflective surface all full of excitement, the other the dark brooding reflection left with little but bitterness and anger. You know all too well what that brings, we'll just have to see where it goes from there.
(He starts walking down the stairs toward the old churches parking lot. The camera follows like an obediant puppy.)
Falcon: Neither one of us are perfect Angel. But we're working on it, right? If you want your one win, I welcome your efforts. It would be simple to just lay down and end this all, but that would suit neither of us and the entire world knows it. You would feel cheated out of what you think you deserve, though you'd never actually admit it. And that just wouldn't suit my good little persona don't you think? I thought so. After all of this, even after all of what's coming Angel. I just want you to know that deep down, I kind of consider you a friend. I know that sounds strange but hey I mean, stranger things have happened right. You may not have acted like it, but your willfull tolerance of someone you could have easily ignored showed me something. I've seen the way you acted with the rookies that came in and out. You ignored each and every one of them. I don't know if it was just something you saw about me, but that meant more than I could say. Go ahead and make all the jokes you want about that like Johnson did. Doesn't change anything. Three days Angel. This all ends. Win or Lose, the outcome is irrelevant to me, as long as the fans leave thinking that a steel cage never looked so good. I don't need a win over anyone, least of all you. Sounds little leagueish to me too, but that's the best explanation I can think of right now. Now if you'll excuse me, wrestling may not kill me, but it's going to be hard to perform with a killer case of pneumonia.
(He walks off towards his car. Fade)
Falcon: The answer to your question lies right behind me. This building used to be Saint Christopher's church. I say used to be because they got funding from some aging corporate CEO a couple years ago and moved into a newer, much more modern, and much more spacious building six blocks or so down the road. In fact that probably was the bell you heard. I used to come here for Sunday mass and bible study three times a week. I was fed the same story everyone was in church. God created it all and you should love him and fear him for he is better than you. Sort of makes sense doesn't it? I mean, it had to all come from somewhere and in my heart of hearts I'll put my dollar on one almighty being than a cosmic coin flip. But that's not really the point is it. When I was a child, coming here to listen to an old man read passages in his monotone voice, I asked god for one thing. That was when I discovered what I wanted to do with my life, I just wanted his support behind me. And as you stated, I seem to have that. Six week injuries.. I'm back in two, just as capable as I was before. Being chosen seems a little more than I would think to call myself, but then again you are the religious expert and I'm just little old me. The underdog is a label that someone has to bear in every encounter, and since the shoe fits.. I'll wear it.
(He stands up, half turning toward the old abandoned church as the rain lightens a little, but not much.)
Falcon: Job huh..? It honestly hadn't occured to me until you said it, that's exactly what several people have tried to do. Take away everything I cherish, and what do I have left? A half finished legacy and enough blood spilt to start a drive. I'm far from perfect Angel. You think being this holy soldier of the wrestling world makes me perfect? Being this lunatic high flyer that knows no fear and is completely immune to pain makes me this saint? It makes me a model employee, Angel. The front office thinks that they can use me whatever the way they want, put in whatever kind of hell they want to see and I'll be fine with it. That may even be true on some level, but it doesn't give me a ton of breathing room when I need a minute for myself. So in a way, you're more than right. Job had no choice but to take what happened to him in stride, and neither do I. This match is going to be not only a dream for the fans, but for the both of us as well. You know that deep down you care just as much what those fans are saying after the night ends and everyone goes home. The very talent you were given has pushed that feeling deep into the background of your psyche, but I know it's there. I felt it three years ago, and I see it in your eyes everytime I look at you. You cannot hide the truth forever Angel. You need only look inside yourself to see me, but I can do the same and find out all about you. You and I are opposite sides of the same mirror, one half the shiney reflective surface all full of excitement, the other the dark brooding reflection left with little but bitterness and anger. You know all too well what that brings, we'll just have to see where it goes from there.
(He starts walking down the stairs toward the old churches parking lot. The camera follows like an obediant puppy.)
Falcon: Neither one of us are perfect Angel. But we're working on it, right? If you want your one win, I welcome your efforts. It would be simple to just lay down and end this all, but that would suit neither of us and the entire world knows it. You would feel cheated out of what you think you deserve, though you'd never actually admit it. And that just wouldn't suit my good little persona don't you think? I thought so. After all of this, even after all of what's coming Angel. I just want you to know that deep down, I kind of consider you a friend. I know that sounds strange but hey I mean, stranger things have happened right. You may not have acted like it, but your willfull tolerance of someone you could have easily ignored showed me something. I've seen the way you acted with the rookies that came in and out. You ignored each and every one of them. I don't know if it was just something you saw about me, but that meant more than I could say. Go ahead and make all the jokes you want about that like Johnson did. Doesn't change anything. Three days Angel. This all ends. Win or Lose, the outcome is irrelevant to me, as long as the fans leave thinking that a steel cage never looked so good. I don't need a win over anyone, least of all you. Sounds little leagueish to me too, but that's the best explanation I can think of right now. Now if you'll excuse me, wrestling may not kill me, but it's going to be hard to perform with a killer case of pneumonia.
(He walks off towards his car. Fade)
