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| The Resolve of a Warrior | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 7 2012, 06:16 AM (74 Views) | |
| Seth Iser | Dec 7 2012, 06:16 AM Post #1 |
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I don’t think there is anything like the thrills of a wrestling match. The rush from the crowd whether they react to you positively or negatively has always had an intoxicating effect. It’s a weird kind of high that you can’t experience no matter how many narcotics you can take…and this is coming from someone who’s taken far too many drugs in his youth. No matter what pain you might drag yourself into the ring with…the energy you gain just from being punched from another combatant in the squared circle with so many people screaming…wouldn’t trade that effect in for most of the wonders of the world. The reason why I did take such a substantial leave wasn’t for my own health for a change. My daughter, Allison, got very sick for a prolonged period of time. The energy of her youth negated…and that scared the hell out of me. Pneumonia can do that to anyone and it doesn’t discriminate. The range of emotions a parent goes through when that happens…there really isn’t anything that can properly describe that. I doubt I’ll ever get used to these emotions…either. I do sympathize with what…the religious Xandor Cross is going through with this range of emotions. The way he cares about young Alexis Castellano is touching to any human being with some resemblance of a conscious. I can’t, however, sympathize with him losing control the way he has once that…kidnapping happened. The true test of a human being…is when life throws so much turbulence toward your normal flight pattern and you need to figure out as the captain of your own life…what logical and needed action you have to take. You absolutely can’t mix your emotions with this in the slightest. I know this…because my first run with this company…I made that same mistake with my own emotions for the first time. …and truth be told, I’m a bit weary of what those same emotions can do when the eventual situation of Matt Slater gets addressed. It isn’t like dealing with my second soul…The Apocalypse in the slightest. I know how to react to anything that being does in terms of an influence over me because while I’m his vessel…I’m also the main thing in control. Emotions, however…they don’t play under the same rational set of rules. I know…there’s such a different sort of darkness that possesses my being…especially when pushed to a point inside the square circle. The thing that separates me…from everyone else, though…is the fact that I’m telling the truth no matter what I say or how I say it. The emotions…and the reasoning as to why I’ve been is what I feel is the truth. The truth…though…it’s never self-explanatory. Truth, like emotions, is really subjective…on things. The problem is…Frank has a problem with the truth. Xandor Cross, on the other hand…has a problem with his emotions. I have plenty of time to deal with Finelli. He’ll give me an answer to my challenge in due time…regardless and during that time frame…I’ll teach him that speaking the truth isn’t about telling a ‘sob story’ like this ignorant god damned fool claims. It’s about the entitlement that you have not just as a professional in your field…but as a fucking human being to be truthful even when it hurts you to say it. Speaking of truth…Xandor Cross needs a dose of it from a veteran who has seen it all. The truth is: If you don’t reign in your emotions, regardless of your situation, you will get hurt far worse than the emotional anguish you suffered when Alexis got kidnapped. You, as a professional, have to act as such. If Double O was behind the kidnapping…well, I’d say it’s a different set of rules…but what he did, regardless of how he feels, is in strict violation of the code of wrestling. Well, this shows that you can never have true normality in even a return to the ring in such an abnormal world that we, as wrestlers, live in. The silence of the winter wilderness at the closing of hunting season always possesses a certain…calming effect. The wind is gentle and soothing despite the chill I always get. The view over the hill where you peer over the bustle of the crazy city of Morgantown never gets old, either. Here I stand, gazing down at that view like I’ve done so many times on many a winter night in my life. It’s always been a great way…to collect every single thought that’s ravaging my brain. “Seth,” Apocalypse calls. For a brief moment, I just shut my eyes to intensify my own inner focus. I feel the wind increase in force slightly as it makes my black cape and hair sway aimlessly. The last thing I really want to do in my mental cleansing of sorts is have my second self…the darkest shadow of my twisted psyche, speak to me. Nothing like a little more turbulence on this flight known as my life, though…it’s something I’ve gotten so much better with over the last year or so thanks to some sporadic advice from those who understand the situation. “Speak, Apocalypse…” I open my eyes, keeping my tone low and calm, “But tread cautiously with what you wish to say right now.” “Fine…” he retorts with malice in his voice, “Let’s just say this is one of the few matches where you’re not the only one…who is aiming to crucify someone for their sins.” “He won’t be looking ahead to Steve Thomas. That isn’t where all his emotions lie…and that isn’t where he’ll lose control of them,” I reply…glacial in my own tone. “A man with a waning faith…in faith itself…” my alter ego chuckles in that familiar, sadistic tone, “What those who have their own interpretation of morality do to try to keep their own heads on straight never ceases to amuse me.” “Humph, not everything is that cut and dry my old companion…” I growl, starting to get annoyed. I hate it when he does have a point, but there are similarities beyond the emotions thing that Cross and I both have. We each have our own…niches to keep our heads on straight. Religion, to an extent, does that for him while my own mental cleansing of sorts that I put myself through so often does it for me. We’ve also recently had our own…support systems assaulted and the seeds of doubt are planted in both of our heads. “Alexis for Cross…and Allison for me…” I mutter to myself. “Exactly…” Apocalypse confirms. “Tch…more proof that humans are more similar than dis-similar…” I grumble to myself. “Surprised, Seth? You shouldn’t be at this point. It’s a different type of truth…not the type that you yearn for from others but…the kind of truth that just needs to be dealt with under different circumstances. It’s the kind of thing that drove your own parents insane with religion when they couldn’t accept that kind of truth and you know it…” he digs. I feel myself bawling up my fist out of agitation for this verbal assault…but a deep breath later and the insult from my other half passes through my mind without any real emotional reaction to the turbulence. I know he’s testing me mentally much like I know Cross will test me physically bell to bell. I’m not concerned about ring rust or the fact that I’m in the ring with a much larger man. The motivation to do whatever I have to do…revolving around my own truths…is too great to let any normal worry get to me whenever I step into that squared circle. “Apples might not fall far from the tree, but the core inside this particular apple is different than the cores that spawned me. I don’t deny the ruthless traits I got from the gene pool, but wanting God’s acceptance fueled theirs and…” I pause for a moment, feeling my eye twitch in anger at this realization, “…Cross’s to an extent.” Right on cue, the sound of that damned belt whipping me over the back without any remorse echoes in my ears in a deafening tone. The crackling sound of my arm breaking thanks to my mother’s own cruelty makes that appendix shiver violently. The scolding…I can still listen to it like yesterday. The suicides they drove themselves to respectively…I still hear the gunshot for my Mother and the engine of the vehicle for my father. “Shit…” I weakly mutter out before I feel my own emotions flair up. “Strike a chord?” Apocalypse teases. “Humph…” I grunt…cooling off slightly, “I can’t afford to focus on that skeleton in the closet in regards to how he is right now. You can’t reach your own in-ring nirvana without proper discipline.” Apocalypse fades out from my mind as I hear the grass rustle. My defensive instincts kick in when I stiffen my stance slightly, tense up my muscles and put my fists up in a fighting stance to make sure I’m prepared for anything at this point. To my relief, I see my daughter, Allison, walking through the wilderness with a quizzical expression on her face. My body relaxes, but my mind has other concerns. In this cold weather, she’s not wearing her heavy coat…just a black hoodie and sweats with her boots…and she’s still not completely recovered yet from her illness even if she’s more than sufficient enough to start resuming her normal activities. “I was wondering where you were…” she sighs, a bit relieved. “Where’s your jacket?” I question, sternly. “Well, you don’t really wear a jacket outside either…” she replies, pointing at my sleeveless black shirt and cape. “Well no…you got me on that one.” I chuckle lightly before my face gets a little more serious, “What can I do for you right now?” “Not much, really…” she hesitates, breaking eye contact immediately. “It’s more than just coming out for some fresh air, kiddo…” I sternly reply, “I know that much.” Allison flushes her feet slightly and the continued quizzical look on her face tells me she’s trying to figure out how to say what she wants to say. I finally feel my body lighten up completely after she did sneak up on me. The one side effect of doing deeds for The Family…back in the day…every little rustle when you’re outside in your private time could end up being your last. Old habits really do die hard…way too damned hard. “Well…are you sure you, yourself, are ready to go back to wrestling?” Allison asks, point blank. I let out a sigh at that question. I doubt any wrestler returning into action fully knows if they’re ever ready until they get punched in the face. No amount of training rookies in the dojo I broke in is the same as actual ring time…but when you’ve wrestled so many matches against so many different people, you just know what to do when even when you’ve stepped away for a while. It’s like reliving a memory moment for moment and you know exactly what is said, when, and how. “Truthfully, Allison…this is one of those things in life you really don’t know until it happens. Yeah, you can feel the nerves of it…but sometimes you just don’t know until you do it,” I reply. After I say that…I feel a second sensation just flare up from within. Not the pain of my parents…but of a different type of pain. The thought that if I didn’t have…Allison, I might turn to religion and end up like the ones that spawned me…and that is a damned sobering thought. I have one place to visit now…before I can truly be ready for Cross and his own faith or lack thereof in faith. Damn you Apocalypse. Damn you. “Ah…I see…” she nods her head as if she confirmed something before smiling as warmly as she can, “Good luck.” “Yeah…” I trail off, “Go back inside before you start coughing again, alright? I don’t want to worry about you getting sick again.” “Don’t worry about me...” she nods her head. “When someone says don’t worry…” I begin before I’m interrupted. “I know…” she chuckles slightly, “Sheesh…” “Take care. I’ll head back in with you in a bit after I take care of something…” I nod. “Alright, bye,” she jogs off. I keep my eye on her as she leaves to make sure she doesn’t fall or anything like that. Of course, she’s an athlete and I really shouldn’t worry about something like that…but I continue to stare off in that direction as she gets out of eyesight…just for a few more seconds before heading off in the opposite direction. I have a quick little task here to complete...before I feel completely satisfied with things. Immediately coming into my vision is the little trail that leads to the church. “It won’t take that long…” I mutter to myself, “Let’s go…” “Agreed…” Apocalypse chimes in. The path narrows quickly in the woods…before I see the church come to my sight. The slow walk soon turns into a quick little jog as my adrenaline kicks in. The corroding, metallic gate door doesn’t hold me back due to its age as I push it aside without much issue. The church itself…isn’t why I came here. The building’s stones show some moss as it hasn’t been maintained since my youth…and those incidents with my parents. “Where was it…” I mutter to myself, glancing at the bushes around the church before I notice the one that’s nearly dead, “Oh there it is…” Under the dead branches of this particular bush is a long source of torment and agony…for many years for me. The ‘good book’ itself: The Bible. It isn’t any particular copy…of the bible, though. It’s got the same tags and markings as the one my parents used to justify every cruel thing they ever did to me. The dent on the upper part of the cover was when that god damned thing was thrown at me and it cracked off my head. “Damn this thing…” I lowly mutter. I reach into my pocket and pull out a lighter. I hear Apocalypse’s giddy laughing as I make the flame flicker within the winds. Soon enough, I finally pick up that damned book…staring down at it with every bit of anger in my being…and have it come in contact with the flame…making the pages that aren’t covered with dirt come ablaze. Soon after I do this…I feel a light smile come across my face. “Now…I know I’m ready…” I nod quietly to myself. The wind makes the fire spread on the bible quickly…charring up the words as we speak but I place it down on the ground so nothing else catches fire. The building has its own place…and I shouldn’t tamper with that…but now I feel like I can at least come into this match…despite Apocalypse’s attempts to get me off kilter, with a clear mind…a laser focus…to wrestle for a victory…with no excuse for defeat. Most days, that’s all I really need…but I’m not fighting for just myself anymore… Hell…this isn’t even fighting to spite my own parents anymore. This return…is just as much for Allison. The daughter who I saved from drunken parents…but in hindsight, she’s also saved me from straying away from the path I need to take. Xandor Cross will end up wallowing in his own demons in a path of his own self destruction if he doesn’t reign in his own emotions and address them correctly. Regardless, when it comes for my return to the squared circle… “It is time…” Edited by Seth Iser, Dec 7 2012, 06:28 AM.
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