Post by EmbodimentOfFear on Apr 29, 2011 12:55:08 GMT -5
April 27
In less than a week’s time I return to the environment in which I once upon a time stepped forward from the pack. The place where I for the first time showed the world that I belonged amongst the elite. Now it is a place where I need to show that I still belong there. For the fifth time, I enter the Hall of Mirrors, and I find myself walking in with no fewer than three goals.
There is a rivalry renewed, as Somers as I face each other once more. His lack of focus and juvenile tactics have created a laundry list of missed opportunities. Somers is once again in my way, and his goal of one day once again be the World Champion is about to become little more than a shattered dream.
Yet I cannot allow it to shift my own focus away from a greater purpose. Ooley’s Human Resources Department is a blight upon the industry, and if I am to achieve having Pierce to myself to embarrass on a grand stage, the path goes through Gabrielle Montgomery. Yet I can’t help but wonder, where does the vixen’s allegiance truly lie? She is aligned with the Department, but what goes her head as Pierce faces Tyvola? I have been in Multiple Maniacal Massacre, and I know firsthand the violence unleashed. She might get off on seeing the Jackal’s blood spilled, but what about when she isn’t the one doing it?
Lastly, there is a personal redemption at stake. The Hall of Mirrors is a match that is tied to my personal identity by pride much as the Cross-Hemisphere Championship is. It holds a special place in my heart, yet a year ago I suffered a loss within it that left a sour taste in my mouth. History must not repeat.
My time has not passed yet.
“You got this.”
“And what exactly, Alan, am I supposed to have?”
“It’s Hall of Mirrors, dude. It’s your match. I know what happened last year, and you throw that out, you forget about it. Like I always say, know your roots. Remember this match’s roots. You beat Phoenix, the Icon of LWF, in the first Hall of Mirrors. Hell, you beat me in one.”
“I beat you in a lot of things.”
“Cute. Point is, there have only been four of these things, and you’ve been in all of them. These two nimrods are stepping into the maze for the first time. They don’t know the ins and outs like you do. They’re going to encounter problems that you thought up solutions for years ago.”
“Except this time there is an extra wild card.”
“I like calling him Nimrod better.”
“No pun was intended. There’s three people in the match this time. That’s new for everybody.”
“So what? Listen, maybe before you step into an entire maze of mirrors, you need to find a single one, and take a good look in it.”
April 29
Alan suggests that my presence in another Hall of Mirrors match serves as a reminder to take a good look at myself, look within. Truth be told, when I look in the mirror, the first thing I notice is that I can see behind me, and I realize I’ve spent an entire career looking behind.
Years ago, doctors would argue whether my paranoia qualified as insular or obdurate. In fact, when we first met I rejected Alan’s first several attempts at extending a friendship and partnership, and as I recall I did it by means of a striped bass across the face. His support helped me to conquer it, or so I believed. I imagine the drugs helped too.
Yet on multiple occasions, I splintered friendships that I was later lucky to repair. Alan. Psiko. I joined the Infinite Flight because I was worried that my spot would be taken away from me. I’ve always anticipated that somebody is going to stab me in the back, always looking back over my shoulder.
I’m still looking back.
I look in the mirror and I see a man that needs to move forward, look ahead. I see the image, and I feel the need to break through it. Walk a fresh path. It’s not a bad idea. Of course, there is always that saying about breaking a mirror causing seven years of bad luck.
I suppose I’ll have to use the broken body of Jet Somers to do it.
In less than a week’s time I return to the environment in which I once upon a time stepped forward from the pack. The place where I for the first time showed the world that I belonged amongst the elite. Now it is a place where I need to show that I still belong there. For the fifth time, I enter the Hall of Mirrors, and I find myself walking in with no fewer than three goals.
There is a rivalry renewed, as Somers as I face each other once more. His lack of focus and juvenile tactics have created a laundry list of missed opportunities. Somers is once again in my way, and his goal of one day once again be the World Champion is about to become little more than a shattered dream.
Yet I cannot allow it to shift my own focus away from a greater purpose. Ooley’s Human Resources Department is a blight upon the industry, and if I am to achieve having Pierce to myself to embarrass on a grand stage, the path goes through Gabrielle Montgomery. Yet I can’t help but wonder, where does the vixen’s allegiance truly lie? She is aligned with the Department, but what goes her head as Pierce faces Tyvola? I have been in Multiple Maniacal Massacre, and I know firsthand the violence unleashed. She might get off on seeing the Jackal’s blood spilled, but what about when she isn’t the one doing it?
Lastly, there is a personal redemption at stake. The Hall of Mirrors is a match that is tied to my personal identity by pride much as the Cross-Hemisphere Championship is. It holds a special place in my heart, yet a year ago I suffered a loss within it that left a sour taste in my mouth. History must not repeat.
My time has not passed yet.
* * *
“You got this.”
“And what exactly, Alan, am I supposed to have?”
“It’s Hall of Mirrors, dude. It’s your match. I know what happened last year, and you throw that out, you forget about it. Like I always say, know your roots. Remember this match’s roots. You beat Phoenix, the Icon of LWF, in the first Hall of Mirrors. Hell, you beat me in one.”
“I beat you in a lot of things.”
“Cute. Point is, there have only been four of these things, and you’ve been in all of them. These two nimrods are stepping into the maze for the first time. They don’t know the ins and outs like you do. They’re going to encounter problems that you thought up solutions for years ago.”
“Except this time there is an extra wild card.”
“I like calling him Nimrod better.”
“No pun was intended. There’s three people in the match this time. That’s new for everybody.”
“So what? Listen, maybe before you step into an entire maze of mirrors, you need to find a single one, and take a good look in it.”
* * *
April 29
Alan suggests that my presence in another Hall of Mirrors match serves as a reminder to take a good look at myself, look within. Truth be told, when I look in the mirror, the first thing I notice is that I can see behind me, and I realize I’ve spent an entire career looking behind.
Years ago, doctors would argue whether my paranoia qualified as insular or obdurate. In fact, when we first met I rejected Alan’s first several attempts at extending a friendship and partnership, and as I recall I did it by means of a striped bass across the face. His support helped me to conquer it, or so I believed. I imagine the drugs helped too.
Yet on multiple occasions, I splintered friendships that I was later lucky to repair. Alan. Psiko. I joined the Infinite Flight because I was worried that my spot would be taken away from me. I’ve always anticipated that somebody is going to stab me in the back, always looking back over my shoulder.
I’m still looking back.
I look in the mirror and I see a man that needs to move forward, look ahead. I see the image, and I feel the need to break through it. Walk a fresh path. It’s not a bad idea. Of course, there is always that saying about breaking a mirror causing seven years of bad luck.
I suppose I’ll have to use the broken body of Jet Somers to do it.
