Post by EmbodimentOfFear on Feb 4, 2014 20:37:28 GMT -5
February 4
I have won the Global Challenge in the past. Then, it was for the World Heavyweight Championship itself. Now, it grants the winner a position of power and influence, two perpetual lies of perspective in which I have never held any particular interest.
What choice would I make?
What choice might each of the others make?
The Cyclone, he might turn to his friends. Give the position to his former partner. What a rise that would be, from failed wrestler to glorified backstage intern to Creative Director. I’m left torn whether that would be amusing to watch or the downfall of us all.
The Symbol, he has an entire crew around him to choose from. With his sense of humor, I could see him granting the position to his new jumping bean, for no other reason than for the reaction it would get from Ooley. Still, is it in the best interest of anyone for a mockery to be made of all this?
The Sweetheart, she is blinded by her own naive ways. She so happily goes along with the antics of the rest of the Network, and they will lead her down one rabbit hole after another. Ironic, that the premise of this entire proceeding was to finally separate a particular group from creative control, and yet they still have opportunity at a direct access.
The Resident Evil, he continues to be the strong, silent type. As far under the radar as he continues to be, as much as we all overlook him, it is important to remember the heavy he may have backing him up. Imagine the Momentum Killer gaining the power of Creative Director, having that sort of control in his grasp. The resulting change in the landscape would be unprecedented.
The Vain One, he might have more options than anybody, given his many personas. Please welcome, our new Creative Director, the Money Maker. No, our new Creative Director, Mr. Ego. No, not him, our new Creative Director, Arrogance Personified. Gag.
The Creole Curse, his returns shocks me in that it vexes me much less than I would have anticipated. It wasn’t much more than a year ago that this man and I went to war over a matter of principle, of honor, of legacy, of respect. He has none. What he has, that I have yet to see this iteration, is another man’s manipulative ex-wife backing him, and what a ripple that would cause to unleash her creative direction upon us all?
Finally, there is the Headliner. Which of his many hanger-ons might he have slated in his mind for this? The agent? The old bag? The penguin? Or will it be the latest schemer that he has gotten himself in bed with since his return?
What choice of mine, indeed.
“Thank you for joining me.”
The person to whom Phrixus spoke sat quietly in his chair.
“Now, don’t be shy. We’ll be here for quite a long time if you’re not going to participate in the discussion, dear eDison.”
eD cASe looked up at Phrixus.
“What do you want?”
“We’re just here to talk, friend. We’re just getting to know each other a little better. You’re going to help me understand.”
“I’m not going to help you with anything.”
“That’s not friendly at all, is it? Let’s talk about the Street.”
“No…”
“Tell me, eDison, does it bother you that all those years of your personal torment is used to this day for the entertainment of children? That infants laugh at your misfortunes?”
“Please, I’ve left that behind me…”
“The past has a way of catching up with us, doesn’t it? I think we might have some bottle caps or a checkerboard around here somewhere.”
“Stop…”
“Perhaps we could go outside and find a pigeon.”
“Please stop…”
“So many people live their lives afraid of being a puppet to another master, yet you have lived it, haven’t you? Do you ever think of what might happen if someone did that to you again?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Are you afraid of me, eDison?”
“...yes.”
“THEN WHY ISN’T HE!?!?!”
eD cASe just stares back at the angry glare from Phrixus, and after a moment he averts his eyes to the floor.
“Please let me go.”
“I told you, we’re just having a chat. You’ve been free to go the entire time.”
And when eD cASe looks up, Phrixus Deimos is gone.
February 8
Why can’t I understand this man? What is it about him that escapes my grasp?
I have put myself in his position, utilized his own weaponry, felt what he must feel. Is it possible I have not yet done enough?
I must thrust myself deep within the mind of such a man, dig my way out from the inside.
There must be a sacrifice yet to be made.
Ooley - ‘What did you just say?’
This was a moment that had caught Robert Ooley off-guard. After all, he has known Phrixus Deimos for over ten years. What he fails to realise is the depths to which Phrixus is willing to take himself to achieve his goals, and this colours his view.
Phrixus - ‘You heard what ‘The Embodiment of Fear’ said. The industry has changed quite a bit in all the years that Phrixus Deimos has been a part of it, and adaptation and evolution is nothing but a natural process in such a scenario.’
Ooley strokes an imaginary beard.
Ooley - ‘Are you stoned?’
Phrixus - ‘On the contrary, ‘The Phantastic Phreak’ has never seen things more clearly. You see, Robert, there is a certain bliss to ignorance. Phrixus Deimos knows this. He has watched as the ignorant and self-deluded such as Travis Roberts have stumbled through their lives as the conceited and sinful lot that they are, and yet they enjoy and reap the benefits that far outweigh those that come to the people that dwell in reality.’
Ooley - ‘I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, and to be honest you’re really starting to piss me off. I give you a lot of latitude because of our history, but if you’re going to come in here ranting about bullshit and wasting my time, I’ve got better things to do.’
Phrixus - ‘Such as? ‘The Embodiment of Fear’ knows that your priorities include eating fast food and drinking alcoholic beverages.’
Ooley - ‘So if you understand, why are you still here?’
Phrixus - ‘Don’t worry, this conversation is at an end. ‘The Phucking Phreak’ merely needed a familiar ear, a person to share the lesson that he is learned...that sometimes, in the face of a world where nothing makes sense, madness is on the only sane response.’
I have won the Global Challenge in the past. Then, it was for the World Heavyweight Championship itself. Now, it grants the winner a position of power and influence, two perpetual lies of perspective in which I have never held any particular interest.
What choice would I make?
What choice might each of the others make?
The Cyclone, he might turn to his friends. Give the position to his former partner. What a rise that would be, from failed wrestler to glorified backstage intern to Creative Director. I’m left torn whether that would be amusing to watch or the downfall of us all.
The Symbol, he has an entire crew around him to choose from. With his sense of humor, I could see him granting the position to his new jumping bean, for no other reason than for the reaction it would get from Ooley. Still, is it in the best interest of anyone for a mockery to be made of all this?
The Sweetheart, she is blinded by her own naive ways. She so happily goes along with the antics of the rest of the Network, and they will lead her down one rabbit hole after another. Ironic, that the premise of this entire proceeding was to finally separate a particular group from creative control, and yet they still have opportunity at a direct access.
The Resident Evil, he continues to be the strong, silent type. As far under the radar as he continues to be, as much as we all overlook him, it is important to remember the heavy he may have backing him up. Imagine the Momentum Killer gaining the power of Creative Director, having that sort of control in his grasp. The resulting change in the landscape would be unprecedented.
The Vain One, he might have more options than anybody, given his many personas. Please welcome, our new Creative Director, the Money Maker. No, our new Creative Director, Mr. Ego. No, not him, our new Creative Director, Arrogance Personified. Gag.
The Creole Curse, his returns shocks me in that it vexes me much less than I would have anticipated. It wasn’t much more than a year ago that this man and I went to war over a matter of principle, of honor, of legacy, of respect. He has none. What he has, that I have yet to see this iteration, is another man’s manipulative ex-wife backing him, and what a ripple that would cause to unleash her creative direction upon us all?
Finally, there is the Headliner. Which of his many hanger-ons might he have slated in his mind for this? The agent? The old bag? The penguin? Or will it be the latest schemer that he has gotten himself in bed with since his return?
What choice of mine, indeed.
* * * * *
“Thank you for joining me.”
The person to whom Phrixus spoke sat quietly in his chair.
“Now, don’t be shy. We’ll be here for quite a long time if you’re not going to participate in the discussion, dear eDison.”
eD cASe looked up at Phrixus.
“What do you want?”
“We’re just here to talk, friend. We’re just getting to know each other a little better. You’re going to help me understand.”
“I’m not going to help you with anything.”
“That’s not friendly at all, is it? Let’s talk about the Street.”
“No…”
“Tell me, eDison, does it bother you that all those years of your personal torment is used to this day for the entertainment of children? That infants laugh at your misfortunes?”
“Please, I’ve left that behind me…”
“The past has a way of catching up with us, doesn’t it? I think we might have some bottle caps or a checkerboard around here somewhere.”
“Stop…”
“Perhaps we could go outside and find a pigeon.”
“Please stop…”
“So many people live their lives afraid of being a puppet to another master, yet you have lived it, haven’t you? Do you ever think of what might happen if someone did that to you again?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Are you afraid of me, eDison?”
“...yes.”
“THEN WHY ISN’T HE!?!?!”
eD cASe just stares back at the angry glare from Phrixus, and after a moment he averts his eyes to the floor.
“Please let me go.”
“I told you, we’re just having a chat. You’ve been free to go the entire time.”
And when eD cASe looks up, Phrixus Deimos is gone.
* * * * *
February 8
Why can’t I understand this man? What is it about him that escapes my grasp?
I have put myself in his position, utilized his own weaponry, felt what he must feel. Is it possible I have not yet done enough?
I must thrust myself deep within the mind of such a man, dig my way out from the inside.
There must be a sacrifice yet to be made.
* * * * *
Ooley - ‘What did you just say?’
This was a moment that had caught Robert Ooley off-guard. After all, he has known Phrixus Deimos for over ten years. What he fails to realise is the depths to which Phrixus is willing to take himself to achieve his goals, and this colours his view.
Phrixus - ‘You heard what ‘The Embodiment of Fear’ said. The industry has changed quite a bit in all the years that Phrixus Deimos has been a part of it, and adaptation and evolution is nothing but a natural process in such a scenario.’
Ooley strokes an imaginary beard.
Ooley - ‘Are you stoned?’
Phrixus - ‘On the contrary, ‘The Phantastic Phreak’ has never seen things more clearly. You see, Robert, there is a certain bliss to ignorance. Phrixus Deimos knows this. He has watched as the ignorant and self-deluded such as Travis Roberts have stumbled through their lives as the conceited and sinful lot that they are, and yet they enjoy and reap the benefits that far outweigh those that come to the people that dwell in reality.’
Ooley - ‘I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, and to be honest you’re really starting to piss me off. I give you a lot of latitude because of our history, but if you’re going to come in here ranting about bullshit and wasting my time, I’ve got better things to do.’
Phrixus - ‘Such as? ‘The Embodiment of Fear’ knows that your priorities include eating fast food and drinking alcoholic beverages.’
Ooley - ‘So if you understand, why are you still here?’
Phrixus - ‘Don’t worry, this conversation is at an end. ‘The Phucking Phreak’ merely needed a familiar ear, a person to share the lesson that he is learned...that sometimes, in the face of a world where nothing makes sense, madness is on the only sane response.’