Post by EmbodimentOfFear on Feb 3, 2018 10:56:10 GMT -5
Donovan Hastings, the newly designated Creative Director of UGWC, sits reclined on his throne in his office with his feet on his desk, playing a game on a monitor a few feet away.
“I know you’re there.”
The Embodiment steps out from the shadows.
“Can you believe this game is thirty years old? Well, the first one. I mean, it’s almost as old as you.”
“As both of us.”
“We’re talking about you right now, let’s keep it focused.
“As you wish. Let us discuss me, the person who opened your first doors in this business, the person whose accomplishments challenge your own. Pierce is a fool, but he is a fool who makes a valid point. I have won the Global Challenge twice, and now you promote what you claim to be the greatest tournament field in Infinity history, and you have chosen to leave me out of it.”
Hastings sits up.
“What, you think I owe you? I hate to burst your bubble, man, I do. Well, no, I don’t. You deserve exactly what you’re getting. You were a great champion once, but UGWC is moving on. You’re a relic of the past, old news, and I simply can’t remember the last time you accomplished anything of note. You’re useless and weak. You think you still deserve a spot? Prove it. Until then, let me show you what else you deserve.”
Hastings pushes a button on his side of his desk. When nothing happens, he hits it repeatedly and then kicks it. Phrixus raises an eyebrow.
“Performance problems?”
“Shut up.”
“This is why Robert uses a bat.”
“Do I need to have the burly men throw you out of here again?”
“That was Pierce. I know when it is time to go.”
“Evidently not.”
“I will take my leave, Donovan, but we will speak again, after I have proven you wrong. It is, how would you say it, inevitable?”
Phrixus smirks and leaves. Hastings bobs his head and mutters to himself in an impression of the Embodiment’s voice before hitting the button again and insulting it when it fails to function.
February 2
I am swimming in this bright blue ocean, I am drowning in the darkest emotion.
That I am at a low point is not under question. It is an undisputed truth. Yet all things are cyclical, and the pendulum always swings the other direction. That has been the way of things for years, the way of my career for as long as I can recall.
It would be so easy to give in to anger and hate. I could demand that Hastings show respect and acknowledge that he is indebted to me. I could despise him for leaving me out of this Global Challenge, a tournament that I have won twice in the past, including circumstances similar to the present. Yet I do not. I could despise Travis Pierce for a laundry list of reasons, beyond his general irritation, beyond his actions this past Monday on Synergy, beyond the conflicts of our past. Yet I do not.
I realize something as I stand here waiting, that I am the one that I am really hating.
It is I and I only that bear responsibility for my current predicament, and only I that can bring a positive resolution to it. I allowed myself to become complacent, to be tolerant of mediocre performance and disappointment.
No more.
The flickering static image fades into that of a poorly lit room, with flickering candles providing what little illumination there is. The Embodiment sits backwards on a chair, facing the camera, his head tilted downward as he leans on the back on the chair.
“Every victory is a weapon, an asset that delivers the next success, the subsequent victory.”
Phrixus lifts his head so that he is looking directly at the camera.
“Travis Pierce, you are to be my asset, my weapon. We have, the both of us, found ourselves mired in a mediocrity of our own creation. The difference between us is that while you strive to distract and redirect attention from your shortcomings with grandstanding and sideshows, I recognize that it is time to take action and make my own success. You feel that we have been left out of this tournament. I see that we are simply in a longer one. You are my first-round match, and after you there will be another, and another, and another, one step at a time, one opponent at a time, climbing my way back to the top. I will not rest until I have defeated you, and the one that follows you, and the one that follows him or her. I will see myself restored to the pinnacle of this profession, see myself once again installed as the World Heavyweight Champion. I will take by determination and proof of action that to which you feel you are entitled to. There is no room anymore for a spoiled brat such as yourself, throwing a tantrum until he gets his way. This is a new era, one that heralds the coming of a new age of Fear.”
Phrixus lowers his head, returning to his original position.
“This is my redemption song.”
The candles flicker out, and the dark image fades back to static.
“I know you’re there.”
The Embodiment steps out from the shadows.
“Can you believe this game is thirty years old? Well, the first one. I mean, it’s almost as old as you.”
“As both of us.”
“We’re talking about you right now, let’s keep it focused.
“As you wish. Let us discuss me, the person who opened your first doors in this business, the person whose accomplishments challenge your own. Pierce is a fool, but he is a fool who makes a valid point. I have won the Global Challenge twice, and now you promote what you claim to be the greatest tournament field in Infinity history, and you have chosen to leave me out of it.”
Hastings sits up.
“What, you think I owe you? I hate to burst your bubble, man, I do. Well, no, I don’t. You deserve exactly what you’re getting. You were a great champion once, but UGWC is moving on. You’re a relic of the past, old news, and I simply can’t remember the last time you accomplished anything of note. You’re useless and weak. You think you still deserve a spot? Prove it. Until then, let me show you what else you deserve.”
Hastings pushes a button on his side of his desk. When nothing happens, he hits it repeatedly and then kicks it. Phrixus raises an eyebrow.
“Performance problems?”
“Shut up.”
“This is why Robert uses a bat.”
“Do I need to have the burly men throw you out of here again?”
“That was Pierce. I know when it is time to go.”
“Evidently not.”
“I will take my leave, Donovan, but we will speak again, after I have proven you wrong. It is, how would you say it, inevitable?”
Phrixus smirks and leaves. Hastings bobs his head and mutters to himself in an impression of the Embodiment’s voice before hitting the button again and insulting it when it fails to function.
* * * * *
February 2
I am swimming in this bright blue ocean, I am drowning in the darkest emotion.
That I am at a low point is not under question. It is an undisputed truth. Yet all things are cyclical, and the pendulum always swings the other direction. That has been the way of things for years, the way of my career for as long as I can recall.
It would be so easy to give in to anger and hate. I could demand that Hastings show respect and acknowledge that he is indebted to me. I could despise him for leaving me out of this Global Challenge, a tournament that I have won twice in the past, including circumstances similar to the present. Yet I do not. I could despise Travis Pierce for a laundry list of reasons, beyond his general irritation, beyond his actions this past Monday on Synergy, beyond the conflicts of our past. Yet I do not.
I realize something as I stand here waiting, that I am the one that I am really hating.
It is I and I only that bear responsibility for my current predicament, and only I that can bring a positive resolution to it. I allowed myself to become complacent, to be tolerant of mediocre performance and disappointment.
No more.
* * * * *
The flickering static image fades into that of a poorly lit room, with flickering candles providing what little illumination there is. The Embodiment sits backwards on a chair, facing the camera, his head tilted downward as he leans on the back on the chair.
“Every victory is a weapon, an asset that delivers the next success, the subsequent victory.”
Phrixus lifts his head so that he is looking directly at the camera.
“Travis Pierce, you are to be my asset, my weapon. We have, the both of us, found ourselves mired in a mediocrity of our own creation. The difference between us is that while you strive to distract and redirect attention from your shortcomings with grandstanding and sideshows, I recognize that it is time to take action and make my own success. You feel that we have been left out of this tournament. I see that we are simply in a longer one. You are my first-round match, and after you there will be another, and another, and another, one step at a time, one opponent at a time, climbing my way back to the top. I will not rest until I have defeated you, and the one that follows you, and the one that follows him or her. I will see myself restored to the pinnacle of this profession, see myself once again installed as the World Heavyweight Champion. I will take by determination and proof of action that to which you feel you are entitled to. There is no room anymore for a spoiled brat such as yourself, throwing a tantrum until he gets his way. This is a new era, one that heralds the coming of a new age of Fear.”
Phrixus lowers his head, returning to his original position.
“This is my redemption song.”
The candles flicker out, and the dark image fades back to static.