Post by Dionysus on May 21, 2017 3:21:04 GMT -5
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is a tonic strength, in the hour of sorrow and affliction, in escaping from the world and society and getting back to the simple duties and interests we have slighted and forgotten. Our world grows smaller, but it grows dearer and greater. Simple things have a new charm for us, and we suddenly realize that we have been renouncing all that is greatest and best, in our pursuit of some phantom.
― William George Jordan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene opens to a beautiful tropical tapestry at midday. The camera pans slowly over the beach, the equatorial tree line passing by slowly in the background. The frame turns on the exterior of a resort; a wide pool lined with lounge chairs dominating the scene. The weather was pristine; the pool area was relatively quiet as a result, with most visitors choosing instead to enjoy the natural beauty around the resort.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The camera cuts again to the figure of Dion Necurat as he approached a bar near the main building. His short visit while Amy and his mother Sophia had been a relaxing one, albeit cut short while he conducted business. Dion was dressed ready for a day at the beach; a dark red sleeveless shirt tucked neatly into a pair of black shorts. He stood next to the bar, leaning in to attract the bartender’s attention. “Qué puedo conseguirle, señor?” asked the bartender.
Thankfully, Dion had prepared brief conversational Spanish for his trip. “Dos margaritas de fresa y un 1800 en las rocas, por favor,” he replied, pointing over toward a table where his companions waited for him, as if to let the bartender know where he would be seated. The bartender nodded, walking toward the back of the bar while he made the drinks.
Dion walked back to the table where he caught his two favorite women laughing over a story that Amy had finished. “Hey, that better not be about me,” he joked.
Amy finished laughing, shaking her head. “You always think every story is about you when people are laughing,” she retorted playfully. She flashed Dion a grin.
Sophia watched as her nurse and her son flirted with one another. “Oh please, not in front of your mother, young man,” she chastised through a warm smile. Dion could not help but smile back; seeing his mother happy was enough to make him happy.
He turned to face his mother. “So how are you enjoying your vacation?” Dion asked.
“Just wonderful,” Sophia replied. “I can’t even begin to think when the last time I took a vacation was…and my memory is terrible!”
Dion audibly gasped enough for Amy to notice. She took his hand, rubbing it gently. “It’s alright, Dion,” Amy reassured. “We joke about her memory all the time. Isn’t that right, Sophia?”
Sophia let out another chuckle. “Oh yes, son, it’s quite alright,” she said. “Laughter is the best medicine after all…except for some of these pool boys.”
Dion groaned. “Well I can tell you’re feeling better now,” he said sarcastically, and slightly embarrassed.
“Now hold on,” Sophia replied. “Your mother is on vacation. You let her ogle as many pool boys as she wants. She is very ill.”
Dion grinned. “I’m just paying you back from before, ma,” he said.
Soon after, a waiter stopped by with their beverages. Dion took one of the margarita glasses and passed it to his mother. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I didn't know what you wanted to drink.”
Sophia took a light sip from the glass. She smacked her lips in delight. “Not a favorite,” she said, “but it will do just fine. You know me; I’m not much of a drinker. But…I am on vacation.”
Amy took a drink from her margarita glass, her expression souring. “Something seems wrong with mine. Maybe I’ll ask the bartender what is in this.”
Dion picked up his glass of tequila, pointing it in Amy’s direction. “Maybe it just needs more teq- “
“No, that’s the problem,” Amy interrupted. “It’s okay; I’ll just ask the bartender to put in less. I’ll be back in a few seconds, okay?” She kissed Dion on the forehead and walked over to the bar, leaving Dion and Sophia on their own.
As soon as Amy was out of ear shot, Sophia turned to her son. “She is a very sweet girl. I am glad you two found each other,” she said, approving of their courtship.
Dion smiled while he watched Amy walk to the bar. She was dressed modestly for the weather; a one-piece bathing suit with a pair of running shorts. He couldn’t lie to himself; Dion was quite eager to enjoy more of his trip once his mother had to return home for further treatment. He turned to his mother. “I’m glad you could come and visit for a while, even though you still should try to recover.”
Sophia turned toward the beach, facing in the direction of the Gulf of Mexico. She sighed deeply as she took in a breath of tropical air. A gentle breeze was blowing through, carrying with it a sweet scent of tropical fruits. “Sometimes…the recovery makes me feel like a prisoner, without any control over my own life. But here…here, I can just be myself. Sophia Necurat. Mother to a successful son, who is a proud homeowner.”
Dion smiled. “You always like bringing up my new house, huh?” he asked rhetorically. “It is nice to own a house and not having to worry about making rent on time.”
Sophia did not turn back right away; she was lost in the view of the sea’s horizon. “Dion…a mother knows when her child is in trouble…in danger…” She turned to face Dion timidly, as though she were a shy child. Sophia stared sharply at Dion for several seconds, making Dion shift in his chair out of discomfort. “You look like you haven’t had a good night’s rest in a long time. I can still remember how you would run to me at night when you had bad dreams.” Her expression grew more serious as she continued. “If there is anything that is troubling you, Dion, I need to know. I want to be able to help; I am your mother after all.”
Dion shook his head. “Thanks,” he replied, “but there really isn’t anything anyone can do. It’s just some old ghosts coming back to haunt me, that’s all. Besides,” he paused, turning toward the sea, “you have your recovery to focus on. I don’t need to be the reason why you stopped your rehabilitation.”
Sophia sighed, slightly annoyed at her bull-headed son, but also understanding her limits. “Alright…but if you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask. I might be recovering, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t help you when I need to.”
“Alright, ma,” Dion agreed. He looked around for Amy, and was unable to find her anywhere. He turned back to the table, looking confused. “I thought Amy was just going to freshen her drink. Where did she- “
“Perdóneme, señor.”
Their previous waiter walked over toward the table, holding a piece of paper. “Este mensaje vino para usted,” he said, handing the note over to Dion.
“Gracias,” Dion replied, accepting the note. He began to read:
----------------
A la barba roja,
A petición de nuestro jefe, hemos llevado a su compañera. La devolveremos, sin perjuicio, por no menos de 500.000 pesos. No, esto no es una broma. Tienes dos semanas para entregar el dinero a nuestra operación fuera de la Ciudad de México.
No se tarde ... su vida depende de ello.
-Cartel de los Romeros
----------------
His Spanish, unfortunately, was not as good as he wanted it to be. Dion showed the note to the waiter. “Do you know what this says? Please read this to me,” he said.
The waiter took the note, looking it over briefly. His eyes went wide, then solemn. “Sir,” he said, “I am afraid your friend…was taken. By Cartel de los Romeros. They want 500,000 pesos for her.”
Sophia looked shocked. “You mean to say- “
Dion cut his mother off. “Amy was…kidnapped?” He took the note from the waiter, clenching his fist tightly around the note. “Those…those bastards…I will find them…” he muttered angrily, as the camera cut to black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monsters exist, but they are too few in number to be truly dangerous. More dangerous are the common men, the functionaries ready to believe and to act without asking questions.
― Primo Levi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scene fades into what appears to be a dungeon. The architecture still resembled that of ancient greek structures, with columns lining the room. Torches stood alight between each column, giving the room a dull glow…though ominously dark.
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt…”
A voice called out from the darkness, as a dark silhouette appeared in the middle of the frame. “Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt… It lies behind stars and under hills… And empty holes it fills… It comes first and follows after… Ends life, kills laughter…” As the voice spoke, the figure moved closer, revealing Dionysus in the dim light. He held an unlit torch in his hands, as he moved his lighter toward the torch, setting it ablaze. “One of my favorite riddles from ‘The Hobbit.’ Can you guess what it is?” He gave a pause, leaning in closer. “What? You want me to tell you? Well, I suppose I could spoil it for you…it is something I feared once as a child. Darkness.”
Dionysus smiled, showing some teeth in the process. “In this world, darkness is all around us. Oh, sure, we have the light of the sun during the day, the glow of the moon and the stars at night, and our own electricity for every hour in between…but light casts shadows. Smaller versions of the darkness. And it is here…in this darkness,” he preached, spreading his arms wide, “where the real monsters of our reality reside. Monsters…such as Oblivion.”
Dionysus pointed a finger in the air, as though to convey he had a thought. “It occurs to me, that not many of you are familiar with the monsters of old. To that end, a few of my favorites, vanquished long ago by heroes looking to prove their metal.” The camera panned to the left, following Dionysus as he dipped his torch in a trough, sending a line of fire around the base of a statue. The light revealed a large human-like creature, muscular in build, wearing only a loincloth and carrying a large club. A single bulbous eye was set in the middle of the creature’s face. Dionysus pointed toward the statue. “That, my friends, is a cyclops. This creature is giant in size, and strength beyond measure…though not only can it be blinded easily…it also does not have the best depth perception. One eye and all, you understand, certainly,” he paused while chuckling. “Oblivion, to me, resembles this creature quite well. He sets his sights on a singular goal, not permitting anything out of his vision to stand in his way. His imposing frame is another quality that suits him; at six-foot-five and weighing just over twenty-three stone, he is nothing short of a terrifying specimen of man. However, a downside to this similarity is the subservience the cyclops has to their betters. After all, it was due in part to a set of cyclops brothers that led to the defeat of the titans. One could argue that Oblivion’s obedience toward his plot of revenge has left him to be controlled by that desire. How delightfully misguided.”
“It is, however,” Dionysus continued, walking toward another trough, “not the only creature that Oblivion holds ties to.” He lit the trough, and again the fire wrapped around a statue, this time of a creature comprised of two halves; a human below, a bull above. “The minotaur. Another powerful, imposing figure. King Minos certainly knew what could keep his labyrinth safe with these creatures running around. These were creatures whose fear was based on reputation alone. Much like the life of Oblivion, the creature was used as an instrument of vengeance, but it is not only the use where their similarities are drawn. Oblivion’s reputation as a competitor is also quite frightening. It is this reputation and skill that has led him to great success; an eight-time hardcore champion and a two-time world champion being the greatest of accolades. Imposing for sure, and most definitely intimidating.”
“And yet,” he lectured, moving to the next trough, “these still do not sum up who Oblivion is as a monster. I know, this is quite lengthy, but do try to pay attention. This is for your benefit, after all.” Once again, Dionysus dipped his torch within the trough, lighting the oil inside as a line of flame licked under a third statue. This one was much longer, a creature on all four limbs. It appeared reptilian and bearing five heads. “This…this is a creature without compare…the Hydra. Immense in size. Deadly in its demeanor. Even removing its head does nothing to slay the beast; it only returns with two more. It is a wonder how Heracles was able to slay such a creature, but then, that is why it was one of his trials. A creature with multiple heads, multiple personalities and personal traits…that fits Oblivion to a key. He is known as The Monster of Madness, The God of Insanity. However, he goes by other titles just as monstrous. Murderer. Rapist. Other dark and dangerous titles bestowed on a man hellbent on vengeance, pain, and suffering. His is a poison unlike any the ancient Greeks would ever understand or comprehend…except, perhaps, its greatest philosophers.”
Dionysus tossed the torch into a final trough, allowing the flame to light. “Oblivion is a man who sees one goal and sticks with it. He is relentless in the pursuit of this goal. He allows his venom, his anger, his poison, to seep into each of his opponents…Oblivion fits all of these monsters to a tee. However…there is one major difference. Oblivion…” he paused, as the camera panned to the right and slightly up, revealing a statue…of Oblivion himself. It appeared as Oblivion normally did in the ring, the mouth seemingly shaped into a roar. “…is man. The darkest and most sinister of all monsters. Now, why would I mention this? Quite simple; Oblivion is not a one-eyed giant who is more likely to beat you with a club and eat you bones and all. Oblivion is not a human-bull hybrid bent on being nothing more than a creature you offer delectable Greek meals to. Oblivion is not a serpent with multiple heads and spraying of venom at every opportunity. Oblivion is man, not myth. He is a reality. An embodiment of the evils that exist in the world, created from the depths of darkness.”
The camera zoomed into Dionysus’s face, showing an expression of concern. “While ashamed to admit it…there is a fear of facing such a monster. Oblivion’s reputation is well-known in the world of professional wrestling, both exemplary and diabolical. A man who embodies fear, who embodies the absolute worst in people, and revels in such darkness…this is a man to reasonably be fearful of. The lingering doubts set in; ‘what can be done against such a man?’ ‘how will I be able to co-exist in the ring with such a dark and ominous presence?’”
Then…Dionysus smiled, calmly. “It is then that I remember. Fear is natural. Being controlled by that fear is unnatural. To fear is to be alive, to have a goal, to have a purpose and meaning in life. It is with fear that the great heroes of old confronted these foul beasts, slaying them and living to tell of their exploits. That fear turns into courage, as they travel to confront those fears head-on. That is why, Oblivion, despite my reservations on our confrontation…despite how I feel around your ominous and dark presence…I will still stand before you, and compete as I always do. Creatures…no…monsters…are meant to fight…and meant to be fought.”
Dionysus leaned in as close to the camera as he could without shadowing over his own face. “This Sunday…we write our own mythos. The Monster of Madness…versus The Master of Revels. The God of Insanity…versus The God of Wine. Our tale, our myth, will be written in that ring…with our sweat…possibly with our blood…and to the victor goes the honor of telling that story. Let us see who will be recording their story to time itself…” With those final words, Dionysus walked off camera, as the camera panned back to the statue of Oblivion, seemingly catching on fire, as the scene fades to black.