Post by Dionysus on Jan 1, 2017 14:36:38 GMT -5
The scene opens up to an aerial view of the farm, on the outskirts of Reading. The grounds were full of movement, as specks were scattering across the farmstead. The camera cuts to a figure unloading bags from the backseat of an Impala. Standing upright, the camera catches the face of Dion Necurat, wiping his brow. I just had to get smithing equipment out here, he thought to himself. Get as much as you can, I thought. It’ll be fun, I thought. Well guess what, brain?! He chuckled at himself, both at the exhaustion and the frustration. Some help would be nice…
“Need any help over there?”
Dion turned to the voice, spying CJ Phoenix, the newest Brotherhood recruit. Dion sighed in relief; CJ was good people, and had Dion’s respect in their division. However, Dion had noticed lately that CJ was beside himself, somehow looking as though his spirit was not where his body was. Dion felt an opportunity to learn would be in order. He nodded to CJ. “That would be appreciated,” Dion replied. He directed toward a pile of lumber set to the side of the barn. “I’m thinking about building a smithy over there, but we’ll need to put the supplies in the barn for now. I’ve got cement in the back here, and I’ll need help with the anvil I have in the trunk.”
CJ crossed his arms. “Seems easy enough,” he said. CJ grabbed one of the bags, and started heading toward the barn. Dion stopped him. “Hold on,” he said, putting another bag on top of CJ’s. CJ strained against the new weight. “Two bags at a time; it’ll go faster.” CJ shook his head, but kept going, a little slower than he was used to.
This went on for a half hour; Dion would unload two bags from the car, CJ would grab one, and Dion would hoist a second on top of the pile. When the backseat was finally empty, CJ came back to the car, taking a seat inside. He was sweating profusely. “How…how much concrete do you need?” he sputtered exhaustingly.
“Well…” Dion thought. “I’m thinking I’ll need two or three bags to cover the foundation…and then there’s making the forge; that’ll be two bags to make bricks from…plus, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have extra concrete around, in case we needed it for different parts of the farmstead.”
CJ wiped his brow. His arms were aching from the work. “I think…I think I should rest,” he said.
Dion laughed. “Ah, but we’re just getting started,” he joked. He clasped CJ’s shoulder. “No problem; you take a break. I have to get this charcoal in the barn anyway, and that’s a one-person job. No sweat.”
CJ sprawled out onto the backseat of the car, his arms sore and pulsing. Dion, meanwhile, went to the trunk. Inside was an anvil of a decent size for the trunk, surrounded by bags of charcoal. Off to the extreme sides of the trunk, there was a blanket covering road salt on one end, and a set of smithing tools, plus an ice scraper, on the other. Dion took out two bags of coals, working as best he could to stack two at a time, before heading toward the barn.
While he did this, Dion’s thoughts wandered toward his upcoming match. A chance to have two matches in the same night, and to compete with WCF’s finest. Of course, he also knew that his own match would not be an easy one. A chance to compete on the main stage…and to have to fight through top tier talent to boot. It was not his ideal situation, but it gave him significant drive. Dion knew he was the wildcard in this match, the underdog who was still looking to break in. To compete on the same level as CJ Phoenix, Anon Y Mous, and Andre Holmes was a task daunting to many. Knowing this, Dion spent his off-time, when not planning and purchasing material for the smithy, training as hard as he could. He had watched the Final Destination match, fully knowing what Holmes was capable of in the ring. Vicious shots, a quick tempo to his movements. He would look to strike first, plan later. A reckless approach, which would likely leave Holmes prone to injury. Hell, Holmes may still be injured from his dive at One. However, that would not be something Dion could predict. To underestimate a man who is known as “Relentless” would be disastrous. He knew he would need to find a way to get past the juggernaut that is Andre Holmes, a man who rides on a mixture of passion and fury.
Of course, he would also be in the ring with CJ Phoenix, a man who he respected. Dion had words for him, but waited until after he dropped off the last charcoal box to rouse him from his rest. “You ready for one last haul?” Dion asked.
CJ climbed out of the backseat, stretching his arms. “Ready to go, boss,” he replied.
“Good, because this next one is going to be difficult.”
Dion motioned toward the trunk. The anvil sat prominent in the middle of the trunk, now free from its charcoal surroundings. CJ looked at the anvil, then looked back to Dion, a soured expression on his face. “Really?” he asked. “You need help with this?” CJ took hold of both sides of the anvil. “This is going to be ea-HNNNNNGH” he grunted, as he tried moving the anvil on his own, but to no avail.
Dion shook his head, chuckling. “You see why. That’s a 275 lb. anvil.”
CJ turned back, both with a look of shock and anger. “275?! You got that to fit in here, with no trouble?!” he exclaimed.
Dion laughed. “Well, it does ride a bit lower.” His expression changed, much more serious. “We still need to be careful with moving this, both for the anvil and for ourselves.” He pointed toward the barn. “We’ll start by carrying this from the trunk to the front of the barn. Given the size, its too awkward and too heavy for one person to carry. We’ll take a breather once we get there, then I’ll tell you where we’ll move it next.” He grabbed the end furthest from the front. “I’ll hoist out, you lift the other end. Take it slow, and let me know if you need to stop.”
CJ nodded, resigned to laboring through this. After two attempts, they were able to get the sizeable anvil out of the trunk, setting it down so Dion could close the hatch. “You know,” CJ started, “I didn’t think I’d be capable of this kind of work.”
Dion nodded, reaching toward the anvil again. “You’d be surprised what the body is capable of,” he replied. He motioned for CJ to grab the other end. “And…UP!” he shouted, both men grunting as the heavy anvil slowly ascended. Both men shuffled toward the barn, Dion leading with his back facing the building. “You’ll be doing…more of this…when you stay with us,” he grunted.
“Yeah?” CJ panted, tightening his grip on the anvil. “And what…makes you think I’ll…stay?”
“You’re a man…who sticks to his word,” Dion replied, slowing to adjust his own grip. “But you also…need us.”
CJ’s face was strained from lifting this much weight, but was also twisted in confusion at what Dion said. “What do you mean?” he replied.
Dion looked behind him, seeing that they were close to the barn door. “Set it down,” he said. CJ nodded, both men setting the anvil down on the gravel. Dion shook his arms from the ache. He turned to CJ. “You wouldn’t have made the deal you made,” he said, “if you didn’t think you needed us from the get-go.”
CJ just stared at him, looking both confused and frustrated. “You get that from what, exactly?” CJ retorted. “Do you know where I was? Do you know the struggle I have had?”
Dion simply shook his head. “I observe people,” Dion replied. “I watch. I analyze. I plan strategy around people based on what I see.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I had to look back to see what makes Andre Holmes tick. This is a man who lived in fear, and returned stronger for it. Forged from a moment of weakness, he’s managed to make himself a success. That demon inside of him, however, still lingers, and it pulls at him. The relentless nature is a difficulty that can be avoided, but not at all a deciding factor.”
CJ tilted his head. “And you’re telling me this…why?” he asked.
Dion looked back to CJ. “Why, to tell you that this is what I do,” he responded matter-of-factly. “I watch matches, promos, segments, even observe interactions, to gauge my opponent. And CJ…you’re a man who is desperate.” CJ’s eyes and nostrils flared in anger. Dion held a hand up. “I’m not saying that to make you angry. I’m telling you because that’s the truth of the matter. You are a man who has seen the mountaintop; you’ve held the Alpha title, you’ve been considered one of the best rising stars. And you let that drive you in your career. But there’s a darker side to that praise. You let it define you. You let it define your success. If you aren’t doing well, you’re miserable. And then you placed this wager. Either you would take the Brotherhood from Bishop and lead us…or you would simply join us, as though joining was a punishment.”
“Isn’t it, though?” CJ spat with venom. “I put my reputation on the line in that match, and what did it get me? Nowhere! Now I’m still nowhere closer to getting over, and I’m stuck on this farm with…with…”
“With us,” Dion finished. "The misfits of WCF…or whatever people are calling us. But then, who cares what they think? We keep our nose to the grindstone and work. We know we aren’t the strongest, but that’s what gives us our drive. We want to be the best, or at least the best we can be. You saw what I did at One. To defeat Rise how I did was not in any way a shot at Rise. It was a message to everyone else; that the Brotherhood has a presence and a purpose in WCF. Hell, our group maintained a lot of success that night.” Dion’s voice rose, becoming harder in his tone. “I’m going into this next slam to prove to the world that I am…no, we are…what we say we are; driven, determined, and ready to make waves. So you see, CJ, we are both men who are hungry for success…but the difference is, I’m not just doing this for myself. I’m doing this for my brothers. I’m doing this to send our dissenters packing. I’m doing this to show myself what I am capable of. And I expect no less from you, Phoenix. Bring your best, or stay out of my way.”
CJ stood slackjawed. He was not expecting that kind of response out of Dion. He knew Dion to be timid, to never boast about himself except in shoots. But this was a different side to Dion that he was seeing for the first time. “I…I didn’t mean anything by-“ CJ started, then stopped. He really wasn’t sure what to say.
Dion waved him off. “It is no trouble. I’m just being deliberate.” He looked down at the anvil. “Now, lets get this beast inside, yeah?”
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The scene changes to just before dusk, while the sun was setting. Dion walked out into the fields, looking for a plot he had designated earlier. What few people knew was that Dion’s father left him and his mother when he was a young child. No one knew where he went or why he left; simply that he was gone. For years, Dion lived with that fact. However, he also felt a strong connection to his father. After all, it was thanks to him and his wrestling career that led Dion to taking the profession himself.
At last, he came upon the site. It wasn’t too large; a simple garden arch with grapevines growing around, a bare patch of dirt directly underneath the arch. Dion carried with him a pole, decorated with a pinecone on top, and lined with a fabric to look like a vine. He set the pole aside, digging a hole in the plot for the pole to stand. Dion’s thoughts transitioned to his last opponent, Anon Y Mous. Just who was this person? And what was his business hiding himself behind that mask? All he could gauge was what he saw from the Final Destination match…and Dion was not very impressed. Having the opportunity to win it all, only to leave it for others, was not his idea of a worthwhile opponent.
Once the hole was complete, Dion planted the pole in it. He then piled the mound around the post, completing what looked like a makeshift shrine. Dion stood up, brushing his hands off while he looked over his work. “Father,” Dion muttered to himself, “could this be a sign? Are you returning to us? To mother? To…well, to me?” Dion shook his head; of course this wasn’t his father. Who knows who this person was; either way, he would be dealt with.
Dion pulled a piece of paper out from his pocket, and unfolded it. His mother had told him that Dion’s father was a devout follower of Dionysus, who Dion was named after. Dion was told that this slip of paper was a hymn that his father would tell him before he would sleep. Dion had adopted his father’s worship of the Greek deity, and reading over the lines, recited the hymn:
Dionysus...Wanderer of field and forest
Long grasses and wiry shrubs
As the sacred wine is within the jeweled cup
So are you within all things wild
You are the whirlwind of mighty change upon the abstracted
Tearer-down of great cities, burning temples and sculptures
That mankind may see what is living
Typhoon...Famine...Violent death...
Such is the revenge of Dionysus
Upon those who forget their true heritage
And take upon themselves the lives of others
Beware, liars, slanderers, gossips, cheats
The over-civilized and the under-sensitive
Philosophers, logicians, money-lenders, and those that feel in words
For your script will be burnt and your logic destroyed
And your gaping emptiness will be filled by the powers
Of savage and inborn truth.
Dionysus is the reality of Nature
Hidden deep within the body
Blood-lust, desire, and naked fear
Love and hatred based on instinct
Drunkenness barring true direction
Violence showing man's true home
Dizziness causing veering footsteps
To find the true path once again.
Within the grasp of his powerful hands
Is the secret of change and sudden awareness
He looses chains and breaks down walls
He opens the vast unknown potential
Of the human soul.
His are the worshipers of wild, free Nature
Whose roots have been blasted asunder
The powerfully loving ones
The ones of keen perception
They follow the dance of Dionysus
They follow the call of their own hearts
Flowing like a river through the winding pathways
Singing again the ancient songs
Of dying trees and withered stems
Of new beginnings and lightning crashing.
Such are the lovers of Dionysus...
Let me be one.
Dionysus...Wanderer of field and forest
Long grasses and wiry shrubs
As the sacred wine is within the jeweled cup
So are you within all things wild
You are the whirlwind of mighty change upon the abstracted
Tearer-down of great cities, burning temples and sculptures
That mankind may see what is living
Typhoon...Famine...Violent death...
Such is the revenge of Dionysus
Upon those who forget their true heritage
And take upon themselves the lives of others
Beware, liars, slanderers, gossips, cheats
The over-civilized and the under-sensitive
Philosophers, logicians, money-lenders, and those that feel in words
For your script will be burnt and your logic destroyed
And your gaping emptiness will be filled by the powers
Of savage and inborn truth.
Dionysus is the reality of Nature
Hidden deep within the body
Blood-lust, desire, and naked fear
Love and hatred based on instinct
Drunkenness barring true direction
Violence showing man's true home
Dizziness causing veering footsteps
To find the true path once again.
Within the grasp of his powerful hands
Is the secret of change and sudden awareness
He looses chains and breaks down walls
He opens the vast unknown potential
Of the human soul.
His are the worshipers of wild, free Nature
Whose roots have been blasted asunder
The powerfully loving ones
The ones of keen perception
They follow the dance of Dionysus
They follow the call of their own hearts
Flowing like a river through the winding pathways
Singing again the ancient songs
Of dying trees and withered stems
Of new beginnings and lightning crashing.
Such are the lovers of Dionysus...
Let me be one.