Post by Swarm on Jun 30, 2006 2:22:00 GMT -5
The human imagination is without boundaries or limitations in what it can conceive. Our natural intelligence and creativity grants us the ability to envision great fantasies and dreams. If you can think it, you can believe it. If you can believe it, in your mind, it’s real. The mind has no gravity, no physics, no rules or laws. In your imagination, you can slay a dragon, you can save a princess, and you can be a World Heavyweight Champion; Even at the ripe age of 11. However, the lack of rules of your mind and imagination do not apply to the world around you. Not the fantasy world you create in your head, but the world you exist in; the physical dimension in which your body inhabits. To separate the two, we make a distinct separation between fantasy; In your head, and reality; The real world around us. The real world does have laws, and rules, and gravity. In the real world, you cannot create something out of nothing. The laws of physics and mass say so. Something must exist to actually exist. In reality, you cannot slay a dragon because dragons do not exist. In reality, you cannot save a princess because there are law enforcers hired to do such tasks, be it princess or panhandler. And lastly, in reality, you cannot be a World Champion at the age of 11. To be a World Champion in reality, you must train and form the fundamental skills to be able to win and, alas, win a championship. Sadly, not everyone lives within the realm of logic and rationality. There are trueborn extremists or, more appropriately; Idealists. While idealist can mean one of several things, in this case, I use it to describe people who believe in the fantasy so strongly that, in their mind, it is reality. These are the people who believe in ghosts and aliens, the people who believe in gods and fairies, the people who believe in their own immortality. The common link to all of these is blind ignorance. They refuse to acknowledge the real world around them, the real world that tells them the truth; there are no space aliens or gods or ghosts, and we will all grow old and die. The fear of life being as straightforward creates idealism, and the acceptance of the truth destroys it. The only things you can do to an idealist is either A; Allow them to live out their lives and, on their own, realize their mistake and hit rock bottom on their own, or B; Show them the error of their ways while they still have time left. While B may be the more humane thing to do, such a drastic measure guarantees only the strong can reemerge from rock bottom and continue life as a complimentary citizen of the world. Only the strong can withstand the truth, because the harshest reality of all is; The truth hurts.
Above us roars the wheels of a machine larger than any truck or SUV, rattling the steel frame above us. The rain plops and splashes on the cement around us, muddying the grass and forming puddles in the potholes. The wind brushes against our face ever so lightly, barely strong enough to be felt. The air is… musky. It’s scent almost of a metallic, basement smell of some sort. The humidity brings out the musk, moistening the air around us but still dry and uncomfortable. Though we sit in calm, the rain thrashing in puddles and the engines above us roaring over loose steel, the humidity drying our nose and the wind providing slight breeze, we still have yet to open our eyes. Perhaps savoring the moment, or perhaps content with life, we sit patiently, no purpose to rush things.
“It’s awfully interesting…”
Perhaps we misspoke. Our eyes open sharply but calm and in control. Rather than race around to wonder where we may be, we stare onward, frontward; In the direction of one Alex Sean. If I were to guess we would be at least fifteen, twenty feet away from him. Between us, the large, uphill ramps we sit on slope down from our spot to thin, cracked sidewalks. The sidewalks lead to curbs, and the curbs meet to a wide road in the middle. On a normal day, this road would be busy. Cars would race through it at high velocities and in mass. But, at this late hour, we find a slight calm on the road. Overtop of us, however, is a different story. In our direct view, we look up and see the fat, metal beams reinforcing the bridge over our heads, or to be more accurate; The intersection. The frame made of rusted steel which, perhaps at one time, shone in the sun and stood strong. Now, the steel has browned and the frame rattles with every passing vehicle. Though we cannot see, we know above us lies the intersection. Laid on the steel frame is a thick, rocky layer of concrete. Unlike the steel, this has never been particularly brilliant. The road rumbles and bumps due to it’s haphazard paving. Cars lurch and bump over this, excuse me, rocky road. But, happily, we lie beneath, sitting on the uphill ramps between the underlying road on opposite ends. You may wonder how we are able to hear Alex Sean, but I assure you, the ringing echo of the bridge above and the foundation beside us provides enough amplification for easy interpretation. However, Alex Sean did seem to have a point to make.
Alex Sean: It’s awfully interesting when I look back at what I’ve done and who I’ve faced. I feel like everywhere I go there’s a memory… Especially in this company. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I have a point. I remember years ago when I had perhaps the greatest rivalry of my career in the WFWF with The Shape. What started as an out of ring personal dispute ended up as a match on the show at the time and, well, then became a grudge match that was revered as one of the year’s best. We fought and we clawed and, I’ll admit, he came out at the end of that night as the better man. And, of course, over time I feuded with The Shape, we nearly killed Robby Wreckless, and after several months in his final match, I retired him for good and sent him packing. That was a good day. I felt like I had accomplished something that nobody ever could because I feel that on that day, he allowed the reality of the world to slip under his mask and into his veins and, I believe, that’s what killed him. The thing you have to understand is The Shape was an idealist. The Shape believed that he was impenetrable, that he was practically immortal. Oh sure he could bleed, he could get hurt, I recall him slicing himself up for his own pleasure on Demanufacture back in the day. But overall, The Shape felt as if he was unstoppable. The Shape was blinded by the wins and the strength and the reputation the industry built for him. The industry built him; The monster; The proverbial wicker man, and they set him loose. The thing that killed him was, he believed in all of it. And when you believe in your own hype, you’re set to crash…
A car whizzes past our face.
Alex Sean: And you’re set to burn.
Another car follows shortly thereafter.
Alex Sean: In a way, ZMaster, you remind me of him; The Shape. No, not The Shape’s strength, or the reputation, or the credibility, but you share his idealism, and the ignorance, and most of all his arrogance. Like The Shape, you seem to believe that you, yourself, are invincible. You seem to believe that you, yourself cannot be stopped and cannot be destroyed. Because of this, because you feel like you are at no physical threat, you seem to think you should just spend your time trying to mock and berate me. You seem to feel that insulting me will get the job done. But, here’s the thing you have to realize; You’re not all that surprising to me. I talk about The Shape because I want to set a theme here. ZMaster… ZM, I’ve faced every single cliché and gimmick and idea you’ve ever thought was interesting or cool. I’ve faced Frost and The Shape and KI2 and all of them. All of the dark characters, be it original or copy, all of the guys in shadows with trench coats, I’ve fought all of them and beaten all of them. I beat idealists because I, myself, am not one and I’ve never been. Your idealism may give you great strength, but it will ultimately be your undoing. In all honesty, you’re no different than anyone who couldn’t cut it over the years. Your idealism will blind you into blatant ignorance. Your ignorance will leave you vulnerable to predators. Predators like me, predators like this industry in and of itself. You’ll be so vulnerable but your arrogance will lead you straight into the gates of hell and the man that returns will not be the false, self-worshipping sycophant that entered. When you meet your maker and you discover the truth, you’ll be shattered. Shattered just as KI2 and The Shape and all of those before and after them were. I’ve lasted as long as I have because I’m not an idealist; I’m a fighter. I fight for what I want and what I need, I use the blind spots of the ignorant to get to where I want to go. Awfully clever, I know. You wonder why I don’t show any worry for your future, why I’m so sure your time is left. I show you no fear because you merit no fear. You’re a copy, of a copy, of a copy. Reprocessed ink and white paper, smudged stains, gradually harder and harder to read. You’re a murky, blurry, distorted water color of something that was once unique and interesting. Come Odium, I will eliminate you the same way I eliminated all of those before you. Right now you sit in exile, waiting for the mercy seat of my wrath. You’re just to damn ignorant to know it yet.
Still…
Alex Sean: But maybe you might feel like I’m not making any sense. So I propose to you something; Go and find The Shape, or KI2, or HellRaizer, or Slayer, or any of them. Go find your heroes. Go find the ones who were cut in the belly with a blade of honesty and couldn’t utter the strength to fight on. Go see these broken men and what reality did to them. Look at them as you look at a mirror. See the changes in their face, in their eyes, in their body motions. Analyze them as you would yourself given the opportunity to jump only several more days in the future. Truthfully, you show no threat to me, my revolution, or my army. I’ll make it clear that you, ZMaster, are a stepping stone. You are a message to all that The Anointed is no joke. I will use your downfall and humiliation as a sign that the days of mediocrity and worthlessness are over. I’ll destroy you, and I’ll destroy everyone I deem worthless. Not because I want to, not because I can, but because as a fighter and not an idealist, it is my duty to. I’m sure these words cut you real deep, but the one thing you have to remember is, ZMaster, the truth hurts. The truth hurts real bad.
Perhaps we leave, or perhaps we rest our eyes once more. Nothing is certain other than this message is, indeed, over.
Above us roars the wheels of a machine larger than any truck or SUV, rattling the steel frame above us. The rain plops and splashes on the cement around us, muddying the grass and forming puddles in the potholes. The wind brushes against our face ever so lightly, barely strong enough to be felt. The air is… musky. It’s scent almost of a metallic, basement smell of some sort. The humidity brings out the musk, moistening the air around us but still dry and uncomfortable. Though we sit in calm, the rain thrashing in puddles and the engines above us roaring over loose steel, the humidity drying our nose and the wind providing slight breeze, we still have yet to open our eyes. Perhaps savoring the moment, or perhaps content with life, we sit patiently, no purpose to rush things.
“It’s awfully interesting…”
Perhaps we misspoke. Our eyes open sharply but calm and in control. Rather than race around to wonder where we may be, we stare onward, frontward; In the direction of one Alex Sean. If I were to guess we would be at least fifteen, twenty feet away from him. Between us, the large, uphill ramps we sit on slope down from our spot to thin, cracked sidewalks. The sidewalks lead to curbs, and the curbs meet to a wide road in the middle. On a normal day, this road would be busy. Cars would race through it at high velocities and in mass. But, at this late hour, we find a slight calm on the road. Overtop of us, however, is a different story. In our direct view, we look up and see the fat, metal beams reinforcing the bridge over our heads, or to be more accurate; The intersection. The frame made of rusted steel which, perhaps at one time, shone in the sun and stood strong. Now, the steel has browned and the frame rattles with every passing vehicle. Though we cannot see, we know above us lies the intersection. Laid on the steel frame is a thick, rocky layer of concrete. Unlike the steel, this has never been particularly brilliant. The road rumbles and bumps due to it’s haphazard paving. Cars lurch and bump over this, excuse me, rocky road. But, happily, we lie beneath, sitting on the uphill ramps between the underlying road on opposite ends. You may wonder how we are able to hear Alex Sean, but I assure you, the ringing echo of the bridge above and the foundation beside us provides enough amplification for easy interpretation. However, Alex Sean did seem to have a point to make.
Alex Sean: It’s awfully interesting when I look back at what I’ve done and who I’ve faced. I feel like everywhere I go there’s a memory… Especially in this company. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I have a point. I remember years ago when I had perhaps the greatest rivalry of my career in the WFWF with The Shape. What started as an out of ring personal dispute ended up as a match on the show at the time and, well, then became a grudge match that was revered as one of the year’s best. We fought and we clawed and, I’ll admit, he came out at the end of that night as the better man. And, of course, over time I feuded with The Shape, we nearly killed Robby Wreckless, and after several months in his final match, I retired him for good and sent him packing. That was a good day. I felt like I had accomplished something that nobody ever could because I feel that on that day, he allowed the reality of the world to slip under his mask and into his veins and, I believe, that’s what killed him. The thing you have to understand is The Shape was an idealist. The Shape believed that he was impenetrable, that he was practically immortal. Oh sure he could bleed, he could get hurt, I recall him slicing himself up for his own pleasure on Demanufacture back in the day. But overall, The Shape felt as if he was unstoppable. The Shape was blinded by the wins and the strength and the reputation the industry built for him. The industry built him; The monster; The proverbial wicker man, and they set him loose. The thing that killed him was, he believed in all of it. And when you believe in your own hype, you’re set to crash…
A car whizzes past our face.
Alex Sean: And you’re set to burn.
Another car follows shortly thereafter.
Alex Sean: In a way, ZMaster, you remind me of him; The Shape. No, not The Shape’s strength, or the reputation, or the credibility, but you share his idealism, and the ignorance, and most of all his arrogance. Like The Shape, you seem to believe that you, yourself, are invincible. You seem to believe that you, yourself cannot be stopped and cannot be destroyed. Because of this, because you feel like you are at no physical threat, you seem to think you should just spend your time trying to mock and berate me. You seem to feel that insulting me will get the job done. But, here’s the thing you have to realize; You’re not all that surprising to me. I talk about The Shape because I want to set a theme here. ZMaster… ZM, I’ve faced every single cliché and gimmick and idea you’ve ever thought was interesting or cool. I’ve faced Frost and The Shape and KI2 and all of them. All of the dark characters, be it original or copy, all of the guys in shadows with trench coats, I’ve fought all of them and beaten all of them. I beat idealists because I, myself, am not one and I’ve never been. Your idealism may give you great strength, but it will ultimately be your undoing. In all honesty, you’re no different than anyone who couldn’t cut it over the years. Your idealism will blind you into blatant ignorance. Your ignorance will leave you vulnerable to predators. Predators like me, predators like this industry in and of itself. You’ll be so vulnerable but your arrogance will lead you straight into the gates of hell and the man that returns will not be the false, self-worshipping sycophant that entered. When you meet your maker and you discover the truth, you’ll be shattered. Shattered just as KI2 and The Shape and all of those before and after them were. I’ve lasted as long as I have because I’m not an idealist; I’m a fighter. I fight for what I want and what I need, I use the blind spots of the ignorant to get to where I want to go. Awfully clever, I know. You wonder why I don’t show any worry for your future, why I’m so sure your time is left. I show you no fear because you merit no fear. You’re a copy, of a copy, of a copy. Reprocessed ink and white paper, smudged stains, gradually harder and harder to read. You’re a murky, blurry, distorted water color of something that was once unique and interesting. Come Odium, I will eliminate you the same way I eliminated all of those before you. Right now you sit in exile, waiting for the mercy seat of my wrath. You’re just to damn ignorant to know it yet.
Still…
Alex Sean: But maybe you might feel like I’m not making any sense. So I propose to you something; Go and find The Shape, or KI2, or HellRaizer, or Slayer, or any of them. Go find your heroes. Go find the ones who were cut in the belly with a blade of honesty and couldn’t utter the strength to fight on. Go see these broken men and what reality did to them. Look at them as you look at a mirror. See the changes in their face, in their eyes, in their body motions. Analyze them as you would yourself given the opportunity to jump only several more days in the future. Truthfully, you show no threat to me, my revolution, or my army. I’ll make it clear that you, ZMaster, are a stepping stone. You are a message to all that The Anointed is no joke. I will use your downfall and humiliation as a sign that the days of mediocrity and worthlessness are over. I’ll destroy you, and I’ll destroy everyone I deem worthless. Not because I want to, not because I can, but because as a fighter and not an idealist, it is my duty to. I’m sure these words cut you real deep, but the one thing you have to remember is, ZMaster, the truth hurts. The truth hurts real bad.
Perhaps we leave, or perhaps we rest our eyes once more. Nothing is certain other than this message is, indeed, over.
