02-17-2019, 05:52 AM
02-20-2019, 12:48 PM
I’m no one’s slave.
I might not have the slightest hint of dignity about my existence. I understand that many believe I given up my pride, that elixir of the youth, that opiate of the old, but I do cling onto some pride. Enough pride to keep me off the ground when my body is batter. Enough pride to keep me going when all seem hopeless. I have enough pride to keep me off the ground. Dirt might encase my body. The world might have kicked me teeth in. But I’m still up, I’m still breathing, I’m a survivor. I might not be some majestic stallion, someone who is willing to be saddled. No, I’m a despicable cockroach, wiling to eat shit to survive. With me, it’s never a thing of beauty, but I ensure you, I survive.
I’m the last man standing.
Let me tell you about my decision-making process. I ask myself, ‘will it increase my odds of survival?’ Despite this chaotic tempest that follows me around, I move in one direction. I need to survive to see my mission fulfilled. As long I am breathing, I am making ground. Somedays, it might only be an inch, but other days I become miles closer to achieving my goal. The slow march is far over. Yet I have one direction, I will keep moving. I don’t care how many heads have to roll. I don’t care how many throats I have to slit. I promise you. I will not rest until my conquest is complete, my goal realization, and my throne reclaimed. I will see to that the proper order of things is restored, the natural hierarchy of this sport has returned.
So even this cockroach has a purpose. But can I ask you, Dante, if you have a purpose?
Some men might consider us similar men. Mercenaries. Scoundrels. Those men are idiots. We’re difference. So let me ask you, what is your purpose, Dante? The entire time I spent doing business with you, I was trying to figure out what’s your angle. Is it really something so simplistic as the pursuit of fortune? Are you really chasing after money? Money. The imaginary currency that turns the cogs of this world; without it, economies are supposed to crumble, and men become aimless. Yet why do I see a contradiction when I contemplate your existence? You have money. Money is funneled to you and the Network. Despite being paid, you seem truly adrift, victim to the currents; you’re a fallen leaf upon the pond, pushed about whatever direction the breeze blows, nothing more. In due time, water will weigh you down, you will sink… you will sink to the very bottom and become mud, nothing more than mud. Some might consider this a tragic fate for an individual, but sympathy should be reserved for creatures who hold meaning. Pity shouldn’t be wasted on a lifeless puppet, who strings is pulled by money.
And it’s humorous, humorous that someone with little weight believe he can question my decisions and offer up criticism of my actions. A little man with a big voice, but we’ll see how that turns out.
Surely, Dante, you’re a businessman. Surely, you see the logic in my decision. I’m other goals than simply securing financial stability. There’s a bigger picture. A grander scheme. While your benefactors have plenty of cash to toss around, they don’t have much influence in this world we live in. If they did, why would the resort in settling for SCW’s reincarnation lollipop guild, the Network. There are many more important, more dangerous individuals on this roster. There are more powerful players in management. All of which could be bribed or pushed. On the other hand, Katya wields influence, she has power, and currently, she’s in control. On a mere whim, she makes decisions, she creates waves that ripple out through the entire company; everyone feels the weight of her decisions. No one is safe. It’s not like I’m doing anything different than what I was doing for the Network. Yet, the compensation is much better. In return for enforcing her decision and help building her vision, Katya will reward me. She offers me currency you could never offer. And why should it matter whose ring I kiss? It’s all the same. We all know I should offer my services to the highest bidder, and apologies, the compensation the Network offered me pales in what Katya has offered me.
I’m wasting my breathe. I know you understand. You simply choose to pretend you don’t. You understand all too well. You might be physically weak, but you’re an intelligent man, Dante.
I’m your scrape goat. I’m the man you’re pointing the finger at when the others in the Network find themselves growing frustrated with their roles. Not until I joined your merry band of misfits, did you find the relevance that the Network needed to become a player. With me gone, you’re regulated back to being bit players in the play, the sacrificial pawns of greater characters. My name held weight. Without that weight, you’ve fallen. You’re being crushed by the gravity of your insignificance. You’re aware, smart man as you are, that the flame of your existence is at risk of being snuffed out. The oxygen is leaving the room. The flame struggling to keep burning. Your backers are starting to fade away, disappearing, one by one. And without his backers, who is Dante? You pin your entire self-worth on this machine you built, and it’s on the brink of falling apart. Not even the Beauty Factor can bail you out.
You’re on borrowed time.
And you had to take a risk, because you know if you didn’t take me out, eventually I would come after you. Right now, you find yourself staring down the barrel. You know exactly the threat that presents itself before you. You act as if I owe you. If I recalled properly, our arrangement manifested as stopgap. You pay me. I wouldn’t cripple you. Remember? You cost me my SCW career. You struck a deal in only to prevent disaster. And now fruitiness of our deal has ended, there’s nothing stopping me from exacting my revenge. You were never pardoned for your crimes, Dante. Your execution was only stayed. Now the clock’s ticking again. We all knew this day would arrive. You’re trying to slip away from the noose, but my eyes are locked on you. After your attack last week, my focus is on you.
It’s a good thing you enjoy feigning as a victim, because I will see to it that you’ll be my victim at Breakdown. I no longer need the Network. In fact, the Network might prove to be an obstacle down the road. It’s time to pull the plug. Once the head of the snake is severed, the rest of the Network will be evaporate. There will be one last obstacle in my way. Think of Breakdown as my way of tying some loose ends so I can proceed on my long march. Dante, you might try to run, might try to hide, but you will be forced to face me. Once you walk across the stage and down that ramp, there will only be one result. Dangling Dante, I Would love you see you dance as you hang from the gallows. Bring along your friends, the more the merrier they say. I think will enjoy knocking down your men, one by one, until you’re the last one to be killed. Most importantly, I hope my enemies are watching. This will serve as a warning shot. They need to wait their turn. Until I’m ready to dispatch them, it’s for their best interests to keep their distance.
To Chris.
To Blake.
To Ikiro.
Learn from Dante’s mistakes. Remember the Executioner’s axe remains sharp. It’s indiscriminate. My axe doesn’t care whose head will roll and when. Line up, line up, all of you, and one after another, you will be missing your head. I invite you to my reign of terror. It has started anew.
Fade to Black.
I might not have the slightest hint of dignity about my existence. I understand that many believe I given up my pride, that elixir of the youth, that opiate of the old, but I do cling onto some pride. Enough pride to keep me off the ground when my body is batter. Enough pride to keep me going when all seem hopeless. I have enough pride to keep me off the ground. Dirt might encase my body. The world might have kicked me teeth in. But I’m still up, I’m still breathing, I’m a survivor. I might not be some majestic stallion, someone who is willing to be saddled. No, I’m a despicable cockroach, wiling to eat shit to survive. With me, it’s never a thing of beauty, but I ensure you, I survive.
I’m the last man standing.
Let me tell you about my decision-making process. I ask myself, ‘will it increase my odds of survival?’ Despite this chaotic tempest that follows me around, I move in one direction. I need to survive to see my mission fulfilled. As long I am breathing, I am making ground. Somedays, it might only be an inch, but other days I become miles closer to achieving my goal. The slow march is far over. Yet I have one direction, I will keep moving. I don’t care how many heads have to roll. I don’t care how many throats I have to slit. I promise you. I will not rest until my conquest is complete, my goal realization, and my throne reclaimed. I will see to that the proper order of things is restored, the natural hierarchy of this sport has returned.
So even this cockroach has a purpose. But can I ask you, Dante, if you have a purpose?
Some men might consider us similar men. Mercenaries. Scoundrels. Those men are idiots. We’re difference. So let me ask you, what is your purpose, Dante? The entire time I spent doing business with you, I was trying to figure out what’s your angle. Is it really something so simplistic as the pursuit of fortune? Are you really chasing after money? Money. The imaginary currency that turns the cogs of this world; without it, economies are supposed to crumble, and men become aimless. Yet why do I see a contradiction when I contemplate your existence? You have money. Money is funneled to you and the Network. Despite being paid, you seem truly adrift, victim to the currents; you’re a fallen leaf upon the pond, pushed about whatever direction the breeze blows, nothing more. In due time, water will weigh you down, you will sink… you will sink to the very bottom and become mud, nothing more than mud. Some might consider this a tragic fate for an individual, but sympathy should be reserved for creatures who hold meaning. Pity shouldn’t be wasted on a lifeless puppet, who strings is pulled by money.
And it’s humorous, humorous that someone with little weight believe he can question my decisions and offer up criticism of my actions. A little man with a big voice, but we’ll see how that turns out.
Surely, Dante, you’re a businessman. Surely, you see the logic in my decision. I’m other goals than simply securing financial stability. There’s a bigger picture. A grander scheme. While your benefactors have plenty of cash to toss around, they don’t have much influence in this world we live in. If they did, why would the resort in settling for SCW’s reincarnation lollipop guild, the Network. There are many more important, more dangerous individuals on this roster. There are more powerful players in management. All of which could be bribed or pushed. On the other hand, Katya wields influence, she has power, and currently, she’s in control. On a mere whim, she makes decisions, she creates waves that ripple out through the entire company; everyone feels the weight of her decisions. No one is safe. It’s not like I’m doing anything different than what I was doing for the Network. Yet, the compensation is much better. In return for enforcing her decision and help building her vision, Katya will reward me. She offers me currency you could never offer. And why should it matter whose ring I kiss? It’s all the same. We all know I should offer my services to the highest bidder, and apologies, the compensation the Network offered me pales in what Katya has offered me.
I’m wasting my breathe. I know you understand. You simply choose to pretend you don’t. You understand all too well. You might be physically weak, but you’re an intelligent man, Dante.
I’m your scrape goat. I’m the man you’re pointing the finger at when the others in the Network find themselves growing frustrated with their roles. Not until I joined your merry band of misfits, did you find the relevance that the Network needed to become a player. With me gone, you’re regulated back to being bit players in the play, the sacrificial pawns of greater characters. My name held weight. Without that weight, you’ve fallen. You’re being crushed by the gravity of your insignificance. You’re aware, smart man as you are, that the flame of your existence is at risk of being snuffed out. The oxygen is leaving the room. The flame struggling to keep burning. Your backers are starting to fade away, disappearing, one by one. And without his backers, who is Dante? You pin your entire self-worth on this machine you built, and it’s on the brink of falling apart. Not even the Beauty Factor can bail you out.
You’re on borrowed time.
And you had to take a risk, because you know if you didn’t take me out, eventually I would come after you. Right now, you find yourself staring down the barrel. You know exactly the threat that presents itself before you. You act as if I owe you. If I recalled properly, our arrangement manifested as stopgap. You pay me. I wouldn’t cripple you. Remember? You cost me my SCW career. You struck a deal in only to prevent disaster. And now fruitiness of our deal has ended, there’s nothing stopping me from exacting my revenge. You were never pardoned for your crimes, Dante. Your execution was only stayed. Now the clock’s ticking again. We all knew this day would arrive. You’re trying to slip away from the noose, but my eyes are locked on you. After your attack last week, my focus is on you.
It’s a good thing you enjoy feigning as a victim, because I will see to it that you’ll be my victim at Breakdown. I no longer need the Network. In fact, the Network might prove to be an obstacle down the road. It’s time to pull the plug. Once the head of the snake is severed, the rest of the Network will be evaporate. There will be one last obstacle in my way. Think of Breakdown as my way of tying some loose ends so I can proceed on my long march. Dante, you might try to run, might try to hide, but you will be forced to face me. Once you walk across the stage and down that ramp, there will only be one result. Dangling Dante, I Would love you see you dance as you hang from the gallows. Bring along your friends, the more the merrier they say. I think will enjoy knocking down your men, one by one, until you’re the last one to be killed. Most importantly, I hope my enemies are watching. This will serve as a warning shot. They need to wait their turn. Until I’m ready to dispatch them, it’s for their best interests to keep their distance.
To Chris.
To Blake.
To Ikiro.
Learn from Dante’s mistakes. Remember the Executioner’s axe remains sharp. It’s indiscriminate. My axe doesn’t care whose head will roll and when. Line up, line up, all of you, and one after another, you will be missing your head. I invite you to my reign of terror. It has started anew.
Fade to Black.