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Control.; vs Grace Goeren, Battlelines XIII
Topic Started: May 22 2016, 05:24 PM (26 Views)
NOTHING
The Purveyor of HATE
You know what they say about funerals?
There's always someone catches his death


In a moment, everything had changed. There would be no more aimless battles or unanswered questions. The mystery of why he showed up in the EWA in the first place as beginning to unravel; unfortunately for most, it would have been better for those mysteries to stay shrouded rather than having the veil ripped away so suddenly.

NOTHING arrived in the EWA roughly two months ago and since his arrival he has walked alone. In doing so, he found a modicum of success.

Success isn't the endgame for NOTHING, though.

The endgame is power.

Control.

With the events of Battlelines XII, NOTHING took one more step toward that control. "The Harbinger of HATE" is now aligned once again with an old ally in Lunatikk Crippler and a new force in Indrid Calder. Together, these three men laid waste to "Red Hot" Ray Willmott in what was a warning shot of things to come for everybody in the EWA.

At Battlelines XIII, NOTHING looks to lay waste to another adversary - though this time, he will do so alone.


***

NOTHING sits high above street level with the night sky enveloping him. The camera captures his profile as he looks ahead. We can see a bustling city beneath him lit up by street lights, buildings, and passing cars on the roads below. The wind whips around the leader of HATE as he stares silently and blankly. The camera begins to pull out slightly to reveal NOTHING sitting on the rooftop of a building alone and deep in thought.

He smirks slightly and brings his right hand up to rub his jaw, the memories of this past Battlelines still fresh and replaying in his head. The feeling of his foot colliding with the back of Ray Willmott's head; the sight of Indrid Calder spiking Willmott into the canvas and watching him collapse into a heap; and Lunatikk Crippler adding insult to injury as he tore at Willmott's already lifeless body. For NOTHING, there was no reason to single Willmott out - no personal beef and no professional animosity. For NOTHING, Ray Willmott was just a vessel with which to provide the message.

NOTHING closes his eyes and takes in a long, deep breath and holds it for a moment before slowly letting it back out. He looks almost content. Well, as content as someone like this could possibly look.

As the final bit of breath exits his mouth, NOTHING opens his eyes back up and begins to speak - a new clarity and focus in his voice than we have heard in quite some time.


Everything in this life is about control. From the minute we wake up, we have control. Do we want to roll out of bed in the morning or turn the alarm clock off and roll over to the other side of the bed? Do we want to begin our day on our own terms or do we want to allow someone else to dictate the next several hours of our lives? At the end of the day, what have we accomplished? What have we learned? And, most importantly, will we be any more in charge of our lives the following day than we were today?

For you, Grace Goeren, the answer to that final question is a resounding "No".

There isn't a single thing that you truly seem to be in control of in this world, but I certainly don't fault you for that. You're young. You're impressionable. And you're being led around by self-centered, self-righteous, arrogant, manipulative waste of skin and bone in Duane Gates - a man who is a malignant tumor on the body of the EWA.

Even in your monumental battle royal victory at Battlelines, you have Duane Gates to thank. Had he not been there to insert himself physically and cost Maggie McIntyre the match, I seriously doubt that you would be standing in line for a shot at the EWA Network Championship.

Such is life, though, when you don't have a handle on any single aspect of your existence. You wait for others to make moves for you or in your favor because you can't make those moves yourself. I understand, Grace. We've all been there before. It's just that most of us have grown out of it.

Unfortunately, it seems like that lack of control must be genetic. It runs from your father through you and your brother, and I'm sure it hits every other branch on the Goeren family tree.

At this very moment, Grace, that puts you in a less than savory position - because, at this very moment, Grace, I have all of the control.

What HATE did at Battlelines was not just a show of power without a message. You just don't seem to be getting the message, Grace.

NOTHING stands and rolls his neck from side to side before beginning to walk. He takes slow, deliberate steps and walks to the edge of the building. A brick wall wraps around the roof of the building just about waist-high, and NOTHING leans down to rest his forearms on the top of the wall. Still looking out into the night, he shakes his head slightly and again begins to speak.

There seems to be this misconception about me that runs rampant around the EWA and you're not alone in being misinformed, Grace.

You want to talk the big talk and run your mouth, and that's fine - you can do that. I expect you to do that. The problem is, you aren't doing that.

You fall into the same category that most everybody else falls into around here. You see someone with a more stoic demeanor or with a bit of a darker history than some others in the EWA, and you immediately assume that person is full of angst. You want to believe this notion you've created that I'm fueled by my own self-loathing or a "woe is me" attitude, and you could not be further from the truth.

The problem with people like you and Duane Gates, Grace, is that you love to talk but you just never listen.

Ever since I step foot in the EWA, I made one thing perfectly clear and that is, quite simply, that I'm not powered by anything but my desire to watch men and women crumble at my feet.

I'm not powered by a tortured past. No, I've left my past behind me - something that you could take a lesson from, perhaps.

I don't look into the world disgusted or full or rage for the average, every-day citizen around me.

I don't even do what I do because I'm angry.

In fact, I'm not angry at all. I'm at peace, Grace. And it is with that peace that I am able to set my sights on goals much loftier than whatever it is that powers you.

HATE wasn't reborn out of anything more than seeing a chance to reach out and take whatever we want at the expense of anybody who stands in our way.

At Battlelines, Grace, that just so happens to be you.

We've both made it to the second round of the Path of the Warrior, and my God, kudos to you for overcoming Serpent Man in round one. What a fighter! While you were in the ring with a joke, I was fighting for my life against Ray Willmott - someone who, had he not had the unfortunate luck of facing me in the first round, could easily have won this entire thing.

But now it's you and me in the first of two matches in which we'll face one other over the next few weeks, the winner one step closer to a shot at the EWA World Heavyweight Championship.

That person edging ever closer to that championship, Grace, is me. It's me, because I'm the only one out of the two of us who can actually make this happen for themselves.

I'm the only one who can step into that ring without the aide of a Duane Gates to hand me the victory.

Most importantly, Grace, I'm the only one who simply can.

Calder, Crippler, and myself have laid quite a bit of groundwork individually and now that we have aligned that groundwork is going to begin to be woven together in ways that you can not possibly imagine.

The future we're creating for ourselves begins to materialize at Battlelines when I put you down, Grace.

It continues when I defeat you a second time when we compete with Martin Robertson for the EWA Network Championship.

Then, when I become the winner of the Path of the Warrior.

When I become the EWA World Heavyweight Champion.

When I stand atop the heap of broken and disfigured bodies that The Three Pillars of HATE have left in their wake.

The future we have written will continue, Grace. It continues until we decide that there is no longer a need for a future in the EWA. It continues until we decide that the future is canceled.

NOTHING stands up straight, his hands resting atop the bricks. His right hand lays flat, his left hand slowly moves back and forth as his fingernails dance along the rough surface. NOTHING stands confidently as he continues looking forward, never so much as acknowledging the camera beside him. The calmness in his face is almost eerie considering the man behind the stare.

This is our world now, Grace. You are nothing more than a victim of circumstance in our quest to tear down and rebuild this society in our own image.

Because we can, Grace.

Because we are in control.

Because while you're still embroiled in your own sordid and complicated past, I have moved on from mine and am looking steadfast into the future.

Because... [He pauses and flattens his palms along the top of the brick wall. He lightly taps his hands on the wall as he narrows his eyes. He stares intently and blinks once, his eyes remaining closed for a bit longer than a standard blink. He opens them again, this time his eyes wide and focused. He rests his hands back on top of the wall and lets out a belabored breath.] ... all things must end, Grace... but

NOTHING
LASTS
FOREVER


NOTHING stands still for a moment, continuing to look forward into the night, before slowly turning and walking away.

The camera turns to watch him as he silently walks toward a door in the distance that leads back inside of the building. Panning back toward the city, we get a glimpse of what NOTHING had been looking at this whole time.

Across the street we see the familiar sign high overhead, broken and uncared for but still able to be pieced together to read "NYSWF ARENA".

Behind the sign is nothing but rubble.

The building NOTHING exited from just prior to Battlelines XII now nothing but shattered concrete, splintered wood, and memories.

For The Purveyor, this is truly the dawning of a new future. Any inkling of the past that may have lingered over his shoulder has now been torn asunder and will soon be swept away completely.

The future belongs to HATE, because HATE has the focus.

Because HATE has the power.

Because HATE has the control.
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