Post by Johnny Reb on Nov 2, 2009 12:39:24 GMT -5
Cold air, hard and brittle with unformed ice crystals, captures breath in steaming clouds and makes the sunlight dazzling bright. It’s not the sort of weather a Southern man enjoys, and he is thankful only that no more snow is falling. Johnny Reb stands on the balcony of his hotel room, four floors off the ground, gazing down at the sidewalk below. What snow had accumulated there in recent days is no longer pristine; the path below has been cleared, and the piles of half-melted slush gathered at the sides are a variegated dirty gray.
Even beneath a heavy coat and extra layers of clothing, every nerve in his body is alight with the bitter chill. Shivering, he forces himself to remain outdoors, to acclimate himself to these harsh conditions. Gloved hands grip the iron railing in front of him. His gaze travels upward, to look out across the city of Fargo, a contemplative expression on his face.
Is a man defined by his abilities, or his shortcomin’s? His accomplishments, or his failures? His victories, or his defeats?
Seems to me, Mr. Guiliano, that you have a lot of misdirected anger toward Yours Truly, as regards a match we had some time ago. The fact remains, however, that I defeated you once. Granted, the circumstances were different. This time, it’s just you an’ me. No tag partners. No interference. You may believe this gives you the advantage; maybe it does. But rest assured, Mr. Guiliano, you ain’t gettin' no clemency from me.
Johnny turns his gaze away from the cityscape before him. Another puff of breath, just visible against the blue-white radiance of the cloudless sky, rises up and dissipates; as if it carries with it his hopes, his prayers, scattering them to the winds in the anticipation that some god, some entity, somewhere…will respond with a beneficent action.
You are entirely correct, Mr. Guiliano, when you say that my path has been somewhat less… advantageous of late. I have been lackin’ in direction since I lost the World Title. Perhaps I shoulda pushed a little harder for the rematch I was never granted. But Lerch was more interested in pushin’ you right to the top, ahead of other competitors.
Now, that ain’t to say you’re not worthy of the honor, such as it is. Among all those who might strive for the coveted position of number one contender, you are, perhaps, the most deserving amongst us. I say that only because I have allowed my own …frustration to cloud my judgment and weaken my resolve. But no more.
No longer will I sit idly on the sidelines and patiently await my turn. No longer will I give in to the vexation at havin’ been thoroughly denied, these past weeks, the level of competition to which I am accustomed.
The Inveterate Confederate glances now toward the camera, a determined gleam in his eye for the first time in a long time.
You were right, as well, when you implied that I am not the man I once was. I have relied too heavily on past achievements; an’ you have reminded me, in your own verbose way, that I am, indeed, a main event competitor.
See, you an’ me, we ain’t so different, Mr. Guiliano. We may come from different backgrounds, radically different cultures. Taken individually, our own personal experiences are completely unrelated. However… it’s the things we take away from those experiences that truly count.
You know as well as I that to really understand righteousness, a man must experience its opposite. To partake in wickedness only strengthens the moral foundations of a good man. You an’ me, Mr. Guiliano, we have both looked evil in the face; confronted it without fear. We have both been forged in the fires of tribulation an’ trial – an’ emerged all the stronger for it.
Reb looks away again, his eyes roving once more over the city. He is quiet for a moment, reflective. A chill breeze toys with his lengthening hair and draws another shiver from the Southern man.
Do not mistake me for a fool, Mr. Guiliano. I do not eschew my …usual tactics… out of some misguided sense of superiority. What happens tonight… this is a matter to be settled between two men, on equal terms. It’s out of a deep an’ abidin’ respect, Mr. Guiliano, that I intend our duel to be an honorable one.
But perhaps I deserve the aspersions you cast on my character. I have not, admittedly, lived up to the ethical standards with which I was raised. I have, at times, done things of which I am not proud. An’ while I will never be as vile as someone like Torture or any of his…underlings, I do have an understandin’ of what it takes to get ahead in this business. Still, there are depths to which even I refuse to sink; lows to which I will not stoop. I limit myself neither to the conventions of good or the vagaries of evil.
Tonight, I seek only one simple thing: victory, clean and virtuous.
With that, Johnny Reb turns his back on the city of Fargo and walks back into his hotel room through the sliding glass door.
Even beneath a heavy coat and extra layers of clothing, every nerve in his body is alight with the bitter chill. Shivering, he forces himself to remain outdoors, to acclimate himself to these harsh conditions. Gloved hands grip the iron railing in front of him. His gaze travels upward, to look out across the city of Fargo, a contemplative expression on his face.
Is a man defined by his abilities, or his shortcomin’s? His accomplishments, or his failures? His victories, or his defeats?
Seems to me, Mr. Guiliano, that you have a lot of misdirected anger toward Yours Truly, as regards a match we had some time ago. The fact remains, however, that I defeated you once. Granted, the circumstances were different. This time, it’s just you an’ me. No tag partners. No interference. You may believe this gives you the advantage; maybe it does. But rest assured, Mr. Guiliano, you ain’t gettin' no clemency from me.
Johnny turns his gaze away from the cityscape before him. Another puff of breath, just visible against the blue-white radiance of the cloudless sky, rises up and dissipates; as if it carries with it his hopes, his prayers, scattering them to the winds in the anticipation that some god, some entity, somewhere…will respond with a beneficent action.
You are entirely correct, Mr. Guiliano, when you say that my path has been somewhat less… advantageous of late. I have been lackin’ in direction since I lost the World Title. Perhaps I shoulda pushed a little harder for the rematch I was never granted. But Lerch was more interested in pushin’ you right to the top, ahead of other competitors.
Now, that ain’t to say you’re not worthy of the honor, such as it is. Among all those who might strive for the coveted position of number one contender, you are, perhaps, the most deserving amongst us. I say that only because I have allowed my own …frustration to cloud my judgment and weaken my resolve. But no more.
No longer will I sit idly on the sidelines and patiently await my turn. No longer will I give in to the vexation at havin’ been thoroughly denied, these past weeks, the level of competition to which I am accustomed.
The Inveterate Confederate glances now toward the camera, a determined gleam in his eye for the first time in a long time.
You were right, as well, when you implied that I am not the man I once was. I have relied too heavily on past achievements; an’ you have reminded me, in your own verbose way, that I am, indeed, a main event competitor.
See, you an’ me, we ain’t so different, Mr. Guiliano. We may come from different backgrounds, radically different cultures. Taken individually, our own personal experiences are completely unrelated. However… it’s the things we take away from those experiences that truly count.
You know as well as I that to really understand righteousness, a man must experience its opposite. To partake in wickedness only strengthens the moral foundations of a good man. You an’ me, Mr. Guiliano, we have both looked evil in the face; confronted it without fear. We have both been forged in the fires of tribulation an’ trial – an’ emerged all the stronger for it.
Reb looks away again, his eyes roving once more over the city. He is quiet for a moment, reflective. A chill breeze toys with his lengthening hair and draws another shiver from the Southern man.
Do not mistake me for a fool, Mr. Guiliano. I do not eschew my …usual tactics… out of some misguided sense of superiority. What happens tonight… this is a matter to be settled between two men, on equal terms. It’s out of a deep an’ abidin’ respect, Mr. Guiliano, that I intend our duel to be an honorable one.
But perhaps I deserve the aspersions you cast on my character. I have not, admittedly, lived up to the ethical standards with which I was raised. I have, at times, done things of which I am not proud. An’ while I will never be as vile as someone like Torture or any of his…underlings, I do have an understandin’ of what it takes to get ahead in this business. Still, there are depths to which even I refuse to sink; lows to which I will not stoop. I limit myself neither to the conventions of good or the vagaries of evil.
Tonight, I seek only one simple thing: victory, clean and virtuous.
With that, Johnny Reb turns his back on the city of Fargo and walks back into his hotel room through the sliding glass door.
