| To War; IKT Round 1 vs Zack Jones | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 29 2016, 12:19 AM (73 Views) | |
| Spartan | Dec 29 2016, 12:19 AM Post #1 |
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She knows this place. She knows it well. There was a time, when she welcomed the feel of hard, packed earth beneath her feet, the sun, blistering hot against her skin, the weight of the heavy shield on her arm. To see old faces, long ago lost, and revisit old friendships. In this place, she cast off her modern shell, and embraced the very spirit and soul of who she was. But the sun, does not burn as brightly as it once did. The faces of friends are absent, the voices that once murmured fellowship, silent. There is, but a lone figure, who waits, staring off into the distance as she approaches. The shield falls from her arm, the weight too much of a burden to bear. Dust plumes around it. Her steps are heavy, dragging, not filled with dread, just...exhaustion. A deeply rooted, emotional exhaustion. He waits, silent warrior from a time past, his flesh smudged with dust, and grime, turned to mud by the blood that long ago stopped flowing from his battle wounds. As she approaches, he speaks without looking at her. “You have forgotten.” “Orthyrades.” “So you do remember my name. You have forgotten who you are, what you are. And that is why you fail.” Like a slap in the face. She might have recoiled, but that takes more energy than she currently has, so instead, she sighs, abandoning her weapons in favor of taking a seat on a nearby rock. Orthyrades. Companion. Mentor. Guide. She’s spent the last two years ignoring his call, two years ignoring his words of wisdom. Two years ignoring the truth. Or perhaps it was only that the fear, the doubt, the fury that haunted her dreams, and dogged her every step had been voices too loud for anything else to be heard. “Or maybe it’s time I face the truth Orthyrades. Maybe I fail because I’ve climbed as far as I’m meant to.” The blow comes out of nowhere, spilling her to the gritty earth, and then he’s standing over her, this warrior from ages past, eyes full of fury. “You have become weak. And in becoming weak you have turned your back on all that you once knew as truth. You have a died a thousand deaths. You stood on the sands of Thermopylae. You stood on the plains of Thyrea. You stood against the Argives, and the Persians. You stood, and defended Sparta against her enemies, against overwhelming odds. And never flinched. Never bowed. You were fearless. When did that change? When did you become a simpering, coward?” A spark, the old familiar anger, the fuel to the fire. She lashes out, taking his legs out from under him before rolling back to her feet. “It isn’t fear to admit one’s limitations Orthyrades. You can only throw yourself at a brick wall so many times before you knock yourself stupid. Maybe I’ve hit my wall.” He stares at her through narrowed eyes, as if he can’t determine the appropriate response, anger and disgust warring within him. It had been her spirit that called to him, her passion that drew him from the darkness. But now that spirit lies in chains, beaten. And perhaps that...that is why she stands here. Perhaps, though she will never say the words, she knows the chains are there, and finds herself unable to shed them alone. And so, he finds his feet, and when he lunges for her this time, it is with xiphos in hand. Her eyes widen, and she barely manages to twist away. “You are crawling. And such is beneath you. Beneath us. You used to understand that, that it was better thing to stand and die than to spend your life on your knees. But you have let them fill your head with their doubts and their insults. You have allowed them to force you to your knees, and there you stay. Find your feet. Remember the warrior you were, the one you could yet be. Or...spend the rest of your life on your knees and fade into obscurity. Is that what you want? After all your grand speeches about immortality, and carving your name into history, you’re willing to just roll over and play dead because it’s easier than the struggle? You, are better than that. You are better than this. You are not a simpering coward. You were born a warrior. You have been a fighter your entire life. Now act like it.” The entire time he’s speaking, he continues to batter at her with the sword, forcing her to duck and dodge, dancing further and further away until at last she stumbles, spilling to the ground. Hands flail, scrambling for something to grip,the tips of fingers brush cold metal. The xiphos. The spark flares, flame springing to life. Fingers close around the hilt and as the foe’s blade descends, she meets it with her own. Swords ring in the fading day as she battles her way back to her feet, driving him back, step by step. “I am not a coward. I will not fade into the darkness. I will not let everything I have sacrificed mean nothing. I will find my immortality. I will find a way to touch the sun. I will not be a shadow. I will become the flame.” Every statement is punctuated by another strike until at last they break apart, the girl breathing heavily from the exertion, the warrior merely looking pleased as he sheaths his weapon. “There you are. At last. Come now. We have much work to do if you are to claim this crown.” Like coming home from a long road trip. That’s what it feels like. Or walking out of a dark theater into a bright day. A weight lifted from her shoulders, or a fire rekindled. No, it’s the feeling one only gets when they stop denying themselves for who they are. Orthyrades, ever present. She’d silenced his voice once, but never again. It’s time to stop running from the truth, and embrace the warrior she was, the warrior she is, and the warrior she will, with work, one day become. --- --- --- --- --- “I...have spent a great many days in a fog of despair. They are not my proudest days to be certain, but I don’t think it’s ever been said that “rational” is frequently a word used to describe me. From the beginning, I’ve always been one of those people who wears her heart openly on her sleeve, and it’s made life...difficult. It’s made it possible for people to manipulate and provoke me. It’s led me to making terrible mistakes...but it has also led me to moments of growth that I would have otherwise not had. So I’m not going to sit here, and deny that failing to secure the victory at Winter Warfare didn’t sting. I know that people are going to be quick to pat me on the back and tell me I did well regardless. I know this for truth. Just as I acknowledge that falling to someone like Aurora Jansen is nothing to find shame in. She’s a formidable foe, and I knew that going in. Losing hurt because winning that match wasn’t something that I wanted, it was something that I needed. I needed that validation, I needed to know, that all of the work, all of the sacrifice, won’t end up meaning...nothing. That everything I’ve done to get to where I stand today was worth it...and I came up short.” Perhaps it’s a mark of how far she’s grown from the feisty, short tempered girl who made her debut in the company squaring off against BAD ASS. She doesn’t make excuses for her failure. She doesn’t try to brush it off, but fully accepts it for what it is. She falls silent here, looking thoughtful as she chews on her lower lip, trying to better order her thoughts before sighing. “But what I gained...do you know what it’s like Zack? When someone you respect, someone who isn’t just your friend, but your mentor, your teacher. Someone you don’t just look up to, but who you would some day very much like to match, tells you, that you earned their respect? Not as a student. But as a competitor, as an equal. I came up short, but now...now I have a second chance. And I would be a complete fool if I didn’t do everything in my power to seize that opportunity by the throat. It’s a long road, paved with hurdles that are...intimidating to say the least. To make it there. To earn the chance to gain more than just her respect, I have to outlast thirty other men and women, all striving towards the same goal. And some of them...well some of them I’m not sure if the prospect of potentially facing them is something I look forward to, or something that I dread. But I have never, in my life, run from a challenge, and I don’t plan on starting that now. I’m not going to insult you, by sitting here and telling you that you don’t stand a chance. I’m not incredibly familiar with you, but let’s be honest, we swim in a vast ocean and it would be stupid to assume that everyone knows everything about everyone. I would, however, like to think, that with you coming to my yard to play, you’ve at least been bright enough to do a little homework...on the off chance that you haven’t...however. Let me invite you to not make the mistake of underestimating me because I’m young. I might not be twenty-one yet, but I’ve dancing this crazy dance of ours since I was seventeen. That’s almost four long, glorious years. During which, I’ve been set on fire, nearly electrocuted, beaten, bloodied, and battered. I’ve been forced to face my fears, wage war against my family. I’ve been hurt, betrayed, and I’ve done the betraying. I’ve known the weight of championships, and the bitterness when they’ve been taken from me. I’m no green rookie. I’m no starry eyed dreamer. What I am, and what I have always been...is a fighter.” Another pause, only long enough for her to reach for the water bottle nearby. Until now, there’s been a sort of calm resolution about her, but now that slips, and there’s something considerably more intense, a fierce determination that burns in the gaze she fixes on the waiting camera. “I cut my teeth on street fights. For a long time, they were how I coped with my anger problems. Whenever I got to feeling too edgy, too...well too much of anything, I’d find somewhere, and beat the hell out of someone. It’s an environment I excel in, because I don’t have to worry about breaking rules, my anger getting the better of me, and getting me disqualified. I can just...fight. And there is....there’s a certain kind of glory to be found in that freedom. You see, inside the ring...that’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt at home, at peace. This isn’t a passing hobby for me, it’s not a job, it’s life. Everything I do, everything is about the legacy. The immortality. The flesh is weak Zack. It fails us. It can torn, rent, broken. It can be damaged in ways that are beyond healing. In the end...in the end it’s always the flesh that betrays us. I learned this lesson earlier than most. But I defy my weakness. I spit in the face of time and mortality, because my will is iron. I will not fade quietly into the night. Even if it takes everything that I am, I will see my name carved into the foundation that future generations will be built on. I will touch the sun, even if it means melting my wings. I will become legend. Because I have given up too much, sacrificed too much, worked too hard to let it all mean nothing. My first year in Phoenix Wrestling I became first, the youngest ever Television Champion, then the youngest ever International Champion. This year, I make history again, when I become the first ever Iron Queen. I will not be stopped. I don’t care what hurdles are put before me. I don’t care who stands across from me. This tournament, it only ends one way. With my arm raised in victory. January 4th, you aren’t walking into fight, Zach. You’re going to war.” --- --- --- Word Count: 2166 using Word Counter Tool |
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4:27 PM Jul 10