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Post by Tayler Parks on Jan 21, 2021 17:39:49 GMT -5
Upstate New York Saturday, January 16, 2021 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *clang*
The familiar, somewhat comforting smell of gasoline wafts through the stiff breeze. The frigid temperatures have done little to keep the New Yorkers in their homes, as the gas station is packed. Tayler Parks slinks out of her silver Toyota Camry and walks back to the pump, which just shut off. Passers by are hollering, bedecked in Buffalo Bills gear. Their joy and intensity does little to warm Tayler’s heart, as she shivers and exhales, her breath visible in front of her face. She pulls the nozzle out of the tank and back onto the pump. She declines an offer to drink a beer with the rowdy crowd, who have started to gather in the parking lot.
She starts to get back in the car when her phone rings. She pulls off her glove and takes her phone out of her coat pocket. When she sees who it is, she rejects the call. The crowd calls for her again, all of them circled at the back of the lot. She waves, politely declining their invitation again. She tosses her phone onto the passenger seat and starts to sit when it rings again. And again, she rejects the call.
“He just doesn’t take a fucking hint, does he,” she asks herself.
She pushes the button on the console and starts the vehicle, the engine quietly purring and the heat visibly warming her up. She flips through radio stations on her dash as she removes her coat and tosses it on the passenger seat, covering her phone. Seconds later, her seatbelt is on and she is ready to drive. But her phone starts to ring again. “Unknown Caller,” her dashboard display shows, and she finally gives in and answers.
“For fucks sake, Brad, I don’t want to talk to you! Just fucking leave me alone!”
She hangs up immediately and punches her steering wheel. “FUUUUUCK,” she exclaims, putting her car back in park. She’s breathing heavily after her shout, visibly shaken by her increasing frustration. In a case of perfect timing, as she takes a few deep breaths and finally regains some composure, the phone rings again. “Unknown Caller” again. This time, she takes a different tact. Clicking accept, her tone has changed.
“Brad, I’m flattered you feel the need to check in on my every move, but I swear on all things FUCKING HOLY, if you don’t leave me the FUCK ALONE, I’m going to drive back there and shove my foot UP YOUR ASS!”
“Is that any way to talk to an old friend?”
“A---- Adam?” She is visibly shaken hearing this voice.
“Hi Tayler. Been a long time, huh?”
“Too long, sir. How have you been?”
“Oh, you know. Still puttering around. Knee is fine now, but I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to get back in the ring any time soon. But what about you? What are you up to?”
She looks around. The crowd has turned their attention back to their gas station tailgate, pumping themselves up for the Bills playoff game. In true Buffalo fashion, they’ve pulled a table out of a truck and set it up. Plenty of alcohol has been consumed for them to do something stupid, and sure enough, she watches an overweight slob rip his Jim Kelly jersey off and climb on top of the truck, carrying a beer and screaming at the now rabid crowd.
“Oh, just watching some fucking idiots about to paralyze themselves.”
“Bills fans?”
“Didn’t peg you for a football fan, Adam.”
“Well, you’re in New York, there are idiots about to hurt themselves, and I can hear screaming from outside your car. Even I can put two and two together, even after all the brain cells I killed.”
He jumps, landing short on the table, but still smashing through. The crowd is more raucous than before, chanting for more.
“Should I get out and put one of them through a table for the hell of it?”
“I mean, it’s your lawsuit…”
She puts the car in drive and starts to leave, trying to avoid getting swept up in the tomfoolery.
“Nah, as fun as it looks, I’m not trying to kill anyone today.”
“That’s the point of the call today, Tayler. I know it’s been a bit since we’ve talked, but do you have a minute? I’d love to sit down with you and catch up. I think I could get you back to having some fun.”
“Um, I’m not exactly anywhere near you right now. Kind of on a drive upstate to clear my head.”
“Where are you right now?”
She turns onto the highway, heading north on 87.
“I don't know. Probably an hour or so outside of Lake Placid.”
“Jesus Christ, just turn around and go back to NYC. Nothing for you upstate. You don’t know anyone up there, you don’t have anything to do up there.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I have literally anything to do up here. I can do anything. I can go on a hike, I can see the sights, I can clear my head and get refocused. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing. I tried drinking away my sorrows. No help. I tried studying and learning from a loss. That didn’t do shit either. I gotta do something.”
“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to run. You don’t have to make excuses. You don’t even have to acknowledge the loss at all. *pause* Yeah, there’s something they never teach you, all those motivational speakers and coaches and all that shit. They never tell you to just ignore a loss, but that’s exactly what I’m telling you. So you lost to Cleo Phillips. Big deal. Who’s she? So you got caught against Lachlan Kane. Who the fuck cares?! Not once in those matches did you look like you were outclassed. Not once did you look like anything other than the fucking badass you are. Not once did you appear weak, other than in your own mind. I can’t hang with you anymore with as beat up as my body is, but I could still go in there on Tuesday and kick your ass, and do you know why? It’s because you’ve trained your body so much, but you neglected your mind. You’re mentally weak right now.”
His words cut like a knife. She continues driving, but the look on her face clearly shows what he’s saying is making an impact.
“You know, a lot of people will tell you to be like a duck. On the surface, you need to look calm and poised, but underneath, let the emotion and physicality go. Well that’s a crock of shit. You know why I never spiraled? Because I never let myself spiral. I never let myself get down. I lost. A lot. I lost championships, I lost my career, I lost pretty much everything at one point. But rather than let myself go and spiral out of control, I embraced it. I spiraled, sure, but I maintained my control. My spiral became my self-confidence. I realized that if I were truly that shaken up about a loss, or about something someone said, or not getting booked where or how I wanted, it wasn’t a negative thing at all. It was me knowing my own worth. It was me grabbing on as tightly as I could to the belief that I was the best and that I would overcome and never letting go. And sure enough, every struggle I ever encountered, I got past it, and usually pretty quickly.
So while you’re on your little day trip up north to clear your head, remember that your pain and frustration isn’t out of self pity, it is your desire shining through. Your anger with yourself comes from the wisdom that you’re capable of so much more. Your spiral is what will make you better, and not because you ‘learn more from a loss’. People can shove the clichés up their asses for all I care. I don’t care about worthless platitudes, I care about getting your head right and making you realize that you will be better because you ARE better. So go. Do your little introspection, figure things out on your own. But I know that when you truly think about it, and you are right now, I can tell, you’ll realize I’m right. And you’ll turn that car around and come meet me for dinner, because I think we have a lot to discuss. Now, I’m in town for a few nights. Don’t make me wait, but more importantly, don’t do this to yourself. I think you know how valuable what I have to say is.”
Tears started to well in Tayler’s eyes as Adam hung up the phone. She took a few deep breaths and rubbed her eyes one at a time, trying to clear her vision. She sighs.
“He’s right.”
She sees an exit in the distance, approaching rapidly. She appears to zone out a bit, not reacting or showing any emotion. As she nears the exit, she turns her blinker on and slows slightly, getting on the ramp.
“He’s absolutely right.”
Two left turns, a complete 180, and Tayler has set her course for New York, and possibly, a new beginning with an old friend. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PWS Arena New York, NY ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Nice place they got here.”
Tayler and a taller, middle-aged man in a suit stand at the top of the ramp, staring down at the PWS ring.
“Who’s their backer?”
Tayler shrugs, looking around the empty arena.
“You mean you don’t know who pays you?”
“I mean, I don’t exactly look at the name on the check. I just cash it.”
“Word of advice: Always know where, or in this case, who, your money is coming from.”
Tayler takes a few steps down the ramp, approaching the ringside area. The man follows, unbuttoning his suit. He is moving somewhat gingerly, but keeping pace with the noticeably younger Tayler.
“I appreciate you meeting with me, Tayler. I wasn’t sure you were going to come back. I figured you would, but it’s been so long…”
Tayler hops onto the apron and sits down facing the man still walking down the aisle.
“You knew I was coming back, Adam. You knew it the whole time. And part of why I did was to finally get a word in. You said you wanted to meet with me, after you tore into me pretty good there, and basically said that whatever mental hurdles I was trying to get over were all put there by myself. Well if you can make those kinds of assumptions, if you can just waltz back into my life after seven years and think you can speak to me however you want, and think I’m not going to stand up for myself, you’ve got another thing coming. You see…"
“No, you see… Now you see! You finally see! You finally see that I was trying to wake you the fuck up. You have been coasting here. You haven’t been challenged here. Sure, you’ve taken some losses, but like I said, those weren’t because you weren’t better than either of your opponents. Quite the contrary, actually. I’m pretty sure everyone expected more from you. But you got bored in those matches, and I can show you exactly when you lost interest.”
Adam walks towards the corner and up the steps. He clears his shoes off on the apron and steps through the ropes, not nearly as athletically as years past.
“What do you mean, ‘lost interest’? You think I wanted to lose?”
“Precisely! If you’d have beaten Cleo, you’d have won the Collateral Damage Championship, right? Not a bad little feather in the cap for someone of your age and with your limited time in the company, sure. But even you know it’s a third tier title at best, and I know the hunger you have. You wanted more. You felt insulted to even be in THAT match. You wanted something greater, something sweeter. I think you know what I’m saying is the truth, whether you choose to admit it or not.”
Tayler, who at this point had stood up and joined Adam in the ring, turns away and rubs her neck with her hands. The thought was almost too much for her as she began to pace.
“Okay, yes. I was frustrated to even be in that situation. I felt like if I won the title, I was stuck in a situation with no way out. I would be stuck in the Collateral Damage title picture forever, never getting a chance to break out and earn what I feel I deserve, or what I’m capable of. Nothing against Cleo, she fought a hell of a fight and did enough to win, but if we’re speaking candidly, I left some in the tank that night.”
She turns back and Adam has a smile on his face.
“And against Lachlan?”
“Lachlan was different. I didn’t want to lose that. I wanted to prove how dominant I could be. I wanted to end him in seconds.”
Tayler turns back just as Adam claps his hands and gestures wildly!
“A-ha! That’s just it. You didn’t want to dominate him, you wanted out of there quickly. You didn’t care about showing your ability, you wanted to get in and get out. And I get it, you don’t make your money by the hour. No sense in wasting time. But if you wanted to show your dominance, why would you want to go in and beat him within seconds? All that does is open it up for him to call it a fluke. It leads to people thinking it was a lucky punch or that you caught him in a lucky submission, and that’s not what you wanted. Or so you said…”
“No, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was… oh, hell, you’re right and you know it.”
Tayler turns away yet again, her shame is almost too much.
“Yes, I wanted in and out because I wanted to feel like it was too easy again. I figured I got the title shot off the back of two quick, dominant wins. Maybe if I did it again, I’d get another title shot. Maybe I’d be in the hunt for McKane, or maybe Russow. I don’t know.”
Adam puts his hand on Tayler’s shoulder and turns her around. She can barely make eye contact. He has both hands on her shoulders and shakes her a bit, jolting her head and causing her to look up.
“And in doing so, you learned the most valuable lesson I can teach you right now- you are better than everyone else. No joke, you’re better than literally anyone else on this roster. It doesn’t matter who it is. Champions, legends. You name it, I’d take you in a match against them any day. But when you’re better than everyone, you’re always going to get your opponents’ best. You’re always going to be their career defining match. So while you see someone like Lachlan Kane or Cleo Phillips as inferior, know that they’re coming at you like you’re the champion, and they’re coming to win. They want to make their name off of you. It’s like when a great football team struggles against a lesser team. The lesser team didn’t suddenly become good, and the great team didn’t suddenly become bad. The lesser team just took it more seriously. It was their Super Bowl, while the better team was using it as a scrimmage. So take my advice- don’t lose another scrimmage.”
“At the risk of sounding like a crybaby…”
“Too late.”
Tayler pulls away from Adam and glares at him.
“As I was saying… At the risk of sounding like I’m making excuses or throwing myself a pity party, I never take anyone lightly. Not beating Cleo wasn’t a mistake, it was a calculation on my part. Losing to Lachlan was a mistake in that I was TOO focused on other things and allowed myself to believe that I was unbreakable, unshakeable, and unbeatable. I was listening to bad advice from people no longer part of my life. But you are right in a lot of ways. My current mental state is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT derived from my passion and my drive. My frustration with how I have not lived up to expectations is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT on me.
I am not upset that Cleo was a worthy opponent, or that Lachlan caught me and got the biggest win of his career. I’m upset that I allowed it to get that far in the first place. Because I know that I’m destined for more. I shouldn’t be opening the damn show against every new face coming through that door, or someone who hasn’t wrestled in months just trying to get back in the hunt. I know where I deserve to be on the card, I know where I deserve to be in the title picture, I know where I deserve to be in regards to who I’m facing every show. So you’re absolutely correct, my own fire is what is driving me, but it’s also burning me alive. It has me ready for anything, but knowing that the ‘anything’ I’m getting isn’t enough to motivate me. So I’ve got to find something else to focus on until I get what I feel my ability dictates I deserve.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt guys, but I got a call that you were in here, and I could use a quick interview for social media. Do you mind, Tayler?”
They both quickly turn and see Daniel Clark stepping into the ring with a cameraman.
“Please. I know you guys have been talking and I’ve been waiting patiently, but we need to get something online soon, and you’re about my only option.”
Tayler shoots a look towards Adam and he nods.
“Play their game. And win.”
She nods to Daniel and he smiles. He starts to get in position to interview Tayler as Adam walks into the shot.
“I’m sorry sir, this is just for PWS personnel. You’re more than welcome to watch from the side though.”
Adam steps back and takes a deep breath. Tayler puts her hands up to calm him.
“It’s fine, Adam. I’ve got this.”
Adam steps back to the corner, out of view of the camera, and leans against the ropes. Tayler turns back towards Daniel and the interview begins.
“PWS Apex fans, I have got a treat for you tonight. Here in the ring, I have Tayler Parks, the ‘Mosh Pit Princess’. Tayler, you’ve grown quite the following since joining PWS, but lately you’ve been on a bit of a losing skid. What would you say to your fans, and also to any future opponents?”
“Quite simply, you guys know I’m better than what I’ve shown. I take nothing away from Cleo and Lachlan, they are both worthy competitors and were the better people when we squared off, but that doesn’t diminish my ability in the least. It doesn’t change what I’m capable of, or what I’m willing to do to win. I’m supremely confident in myself and I know that I’ll right the ship once I get in the ring again.”
“Funny you should mention that. Today, it appears your next match has been announced. You and Jonathan Sanders will go one on one to kick off Riot on the 26th. What are your thoughts on this match, as he is coming off a big win against someone you’ve also beaten, Dawn Warren?”
Tayler shakes her head.
“I don’t know what else I can say about the match other than I sat back and watched him tear Dawn Warren apart and was impressed. But I also know the caliber of opponent Dawn Warren is and know that, while she’s tough in her own way, she’s no me. He is yet another quality opponent for me and I’m ready to get in there and make yet another big impact on Riot. I think you’ll see the best Tayler Parks you’ve ever seen.”
“We touched on it briefly, Tayler, but you have lost two in a row. Just personally, how do you rebound mentally from back to back losses in close matchups?”
Tayler snaps her fingers and gestures for Adam to step into the frame. He takes a few steps forward but Daniel puts a hand up to block him. Tayler grabs the microphone from Daniel and shoves him to the side, making room for Adam to come into frame.
“How I rebound… is by introducing you to my mentor and my friend, a wrestling legend in his own right, ‘The Real Deal’ Adam Meyer. He is here to guide me and make sure I unlock my true potential. See, to this point, I’ve coasted by on my size and my strength in a lot of situations, and my technical ability in the rest. But to get to where I know I deserve to be, I need to be as sharp as I can in all aspects. So you ask how I rebound? By being me. By being the most focused I could possibly be. No outside distractions. No fancy gimmicks. No frills, no pomp and circumstance, nothing but showing up and showing out.
Jonathan Sanders, this is a rather unfortunate situation you’ve been placed in. Not only am I hungrier for a win than ever before, I’m more desperate for a win. I know that, with Demon’s Run on the horizon and with even more top talent joining every single day, I need to solidify myself as the true top talent I know I am. I’m not going to overlook you like I might’ve in the past. I’m not going to leave anything in the ring like I know I have in the past. I’m going to walk down that ramp, step into this ring, and put on the performance of my lifetime. Not that I need to, mind you, but because I want to. You, Jonathan, are going to be my statement win. You’re going to be the win I look back on when I’m holding the PWS World Championship and say ‘That’s the win that launched me into that next level.’ And before you think that’s me being cocky, or overconfident, that’s me giving you credit, son. That’s me telling you that you’re worth my time and energy, that you’re worth me even getting focused.
I could show up any odd day and beat most of the roster without having to try. You know it and I know it. But when someone impresses me, or when they have earned my respect, that’s when I lace my boots up a little tighter, I train just a little bit harder, I get just a little bit hungrier, and I go that extra fucking mile. Not because I have to. I could win without doing that. But because I want the spotlight on me. I want to be the one impressing people. Hell, I want to impress myself. I haven’t done that in a little while. Sorry for you, Jon, you’re the one who’s gotta take that fall.”
Daniel has stumbled back in the frame and has since gotten his microphone back. He looks at Tayler, breathing heavily from the intense words she just used, and Adam, looking proud of his mentee.
“Alright, Tayler, thank you for that. And welcome to your mentor, Adam Meyer. Adam, any final thoughts on your protégé?”
Adam steps forward.
“I told Tayler earlier today but it bears repeating- embrace the spiral, but keep control. Realize that every step backwards isn’t a step to your demise, but keep moving forward. I’ve never seen a wrestler with as much heart as she’s got, so as long as she keeps the desire and keeps her head where it needs to be, the sky's the limit. Jonathan Sanders is in the wrong place at the wrong time right now. He would win against almost anyone else you put him against, but Tayler… Tayler is a damn buzzsaw right now. She is absolutely as focused as I’ve ever seen her. Tuesday, you’ll see just how in control of her own destiny she truly is.”
The cameraman gives Daniel the all clear and he thanks the two before hurrying out of the ring. Tayler and Adam share a look before laughing.
“Well that was an eventful way to introduce me.”
“Had to do something, right?”
They both climb out of the ring and begin walking to the back. At the top of the ramp, Tayler stops and looks back.
“So this is me embracing the spiral, huh?”
Adam stops and turns back too.
“Better be ready, kid. Cause when you get some momentum behind you, there’s nothing that’s going to stand in your way."
They turn back and go through the curtain, walking down the steps behind the entryway. The pair rounds a corner, with Adam running straight into Levi Russow. The collision nearly knocks the coffee out of Levi's hand and all over his suit.
“What… THE FUCK… are you doing here?”
Levi visibly goes from a 2 to a 10, and Adam chuckles.
“Nice to see you again, Levi. Was wondering when we’d meet again.”
“Not long enough, asshole.”
“Pleasant as always.”
Levi shrugs past Adam, brushing shoulders with him. Adam and Tayler turn to watch Levi walk by, as Levi turns to face them. Levi blindly but hurriedly walks down the corridor, shaking his head before turning back around to watch where he’s walking.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
“That’s a story for a different day. Come on, time for you to buy me that dinner I asked for.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Post by Jonathan Sanders on Jan 24, 2021 3:20:30 GMT -5
*Following a spectacular edition of Riot to kick off the year, PWS: Apex is starting 2021 with incredible momentum on their side. This week's card looks set to match that pace, and after an explosive start with the opening pyro, the announcers welcome us to the broadcast with a run-down of tonight's card. Before they can get off to the races, however, the feed sputters and cuts away to a shot of NYC at night. Blowing snow whips in torrential bursts across the dreary landscape, lending an eerie halo to the glow of streetlamps occasionally pouring through the bluster. We pan for a moment past a series of old, run-down brownstones and low-income tenements before turning sharply to travel down a faintly-illuminated alley between two of the most egregiously ill-kept buildings. The alley is claustrophobic and tense, lined with trash bags and makeshift hovels of cardboard on either side, many buried or ruined by the snowfall. A few figures, bundled in winter clothing, lie sleeping on either side of this path, and as we progress the illumination grows brighter, until the camera emerges on the other end into a clearing between the buildings. It appears to be some sort of courtyard or parking area created by the meeting of four buildings, and some of New York's less-fortunate residents have gathered here to weather the snow for the night. Pockets of shabbily-dressed transients are clustered around flaming barrels, and a handful of others huddle against the walls and dark corners of the space. As we pan across this tableau of suffering and need, a now-familiar voice can be heard from off-camera.*
"Ah, desperation."
*With this sardonic statement, the camera slowly pivots around to reveal its source; "The Lost Cause", Jonathan Sanders. PWS: Apex's resident nihilist is stood leaning against the rear wall of the largest brownstone in the quadrumvirate, surveying the poverty around him with an air of oddly-sympathetic sentimentality. His attire is similar to that which we've grown accustomed to seeing him wear, with a black, wool poncho-style hoodie over top of some kind of band tee, though the logo is obscured. The ensemble is topped off by a long, charcoal-coloured overcoat with raven's-feather trim around the neckline, and a pair of slate grey acid-wash jeans with combat boots. The hood of Jonathan's poncho is currently raised, shrouding his features in shadow, and he lifts his dark eyes to fix on the camera as he speaks.*
"The slow, entropic decay of the human condition. It may take on many forms, masquerade by various names, but the sight of it is always evident to those who know it well. It has a certain unique beauty, a sort of...anguished painting of life's futility. A snapshot of the human race at its lowest point. What must it take to make us wallow here? What sort of ruinous catastrophe can bring us to this place? It is a simple thing, I think. Hope."
*Jonathan pushes off from the wall and begins to walk, hands rooted in the pockets of his coat. He paces slowly through the courtyard, affording us a better view of the destitution surrounding him.*
"Hope is a fickle thing. It can empower us, certainly; drive human beings to improve and strive for better cards than they've been dealt, and yet...it also brings the keenest suffering. Hope hones the edges of the knives that will destroy us, it tempers the steel of the chains which hold us down. There is no true sorrow without hope. There CAN'T be. Desperation cannot exist without an undercurrent of want. We need some hope in order to become desperate when it seems like it will not be fulfilled; we need a GOAL to know precisely when we've FAILED."
*Jonathan's walk continues, now, past the bums in the alleyway and out into the wider street beyond. As he passes one of the flaming barrels our homeless friends are using for warmth, we catch a glimpse of his face in the firelight. It bears an all-too-familiar malicious, bitter grin.*
"Tayler Parks is a woman very well-acquainted with failure...and more recently, it seems, with desperation. How many matches have you lost in these past weeks, Tayler? Two? Three? And yet you still insist on calling yourself the greatest wrestler in the world. You continue to claim your superiority over this entire roster, irrespective of the fact that we have seen you be humiliated by a street punk and an up-and-comer. It begs the question of who you're really trying to convince: your opponents...or yourself?"
*Here the Lost Cause pauses, and gazing down the street before him we can see that more of the same awaiting us ahead. To the left near the end of the block is a small park, where a baseball diamond is just barely visible through the snow-capped tree branches and slowly-dwindling flurries. Along the sidewalk more tramps and vagrants have set up camp, some of them keeping warm in doorways and beneath awnings to seek shield from the snowfall, and others still seemingly resigned to their fate of sleeping in the cold. Jonathan inhales deeply, his grin fading to a soft, sadistic smirk as he begins to cross the road.*
"That's the worst part, isn't it Ms. Parks? The shame. It's never easy coping with failure, of course, but the sense of inadequacy it brings can be so truly devastating to the psyche. We begin to question ourselves; 'Why couldn't I succeed when so many other have before?' 'If this can be accomplished by anyone else, why was it so insurmountable for ME?' It's a vicious path indeed, and one I've traveled many times before. But something interesting happens, Tayler, when you reach the end of that caustic, withering road. There comes an...epiphany. A truth. A bitter revelation, that I hope to share with you tonight. See, after all this self-deception, when you've finally exhausted your supply of excuses and ineffectual self-help platitudes to spare your precious ego...that is when you'll see it. When you'll come to the sudden, world-shattering realization that you're not losing because you failed to prepare enough, you're not losing because your opponent could outthink you, no. You're losing because you deserve to. Because you still believe that you deserve to win."
*Jonathan has crossed the street twice during the preceding diatribe, coming to a stop now just before the entrance to the park. We're afforded a clearer view now and we can spot another fire in front of the baseball diamond, apparently started in a public trash bin made of metal to withstand the heat. The self-styled Outsider locks eyes with this point and begins to head in that direction, his smirk slowly fading as he goes.*
"THAT is the source of your desperation, and the true boon that hopelessness provides. Only once you've reconciled yourself to the idea that your victory is a privilege, not some inborn 'right' afforded by the strength of your desire, THEN can you begin to shift your fortunes. Change is a painful process, Tayler, and it takes more effort and expenditure of will than most lesser mortals can handle over a lifetime...and it is something you should be quite familiar with, given your self-appointed status as a 'rebel'."
*Jonathan pauses once again, having now reached the edge of the baseball diamond we'd glimpsed previously. It is similarly home to a collection of vagrants who've sought some refuge for the night, with some even being so bold as to have set up cheap tents or makeshift shelters for a more protracted stay. The fire is less crowded here, with a a few bodies here and there around it for warmth, but they are more scattered from the flames than the tight huddles that Sanders left behind in the alley. Waiting here a moment, simply surveying the scene, he speaks again, his voice as icy as the chill night air.*
"Rebels fight for change. They push back against a system of corruption or injustice, often at the cost of their own lives. But what do you stand for, I wonder? What exactly are you rebelling against? Are you 'oppressed' in some way, Tayler? Do you stand up for minorities? The rights of the LGBT community? Do you protest capitalism? ...What about when it comes time to sell your records? No, I think the Truth, Tayler, is that you are merely a girl who likes punk rock music and grew up in a stifled, conservative home. It's just another example of your desperation, your overwhelming need to belong to something, to feel as important as you've always told yourself you are. You crave that VALIDATION, Tayler, even if you need to cling to washed-up, decrepit British father figures to find it."
*Another pause, and a sigh escapes the Snake of Eden in a wispy puff, evaporating quickly into the winter night. Slowly he presses forward, approaching the flaming trash barrel and finally giving us a shot of him illuminated in the eerie orange glow. His grey eyes glare daggers into the camera once again.*
"Tonight WILL mark a turning point in the career of Tayler Parks, because tonight is the beginning of your downward spiral into hopelessness. Tonight you learn that this world preys on its downtrodden; that we live within a system built to victimize the weak. I have stared headlong into the blackened, twisted core of human nature and let it mold me into the cold and empty THING I am today. I will show you what I've learned, Tayler. If you wish to be a rebel, then I will give you cause. We will see, together, just how far your limits extend, and I will push you SO FAR past them that you no longer recognize yourself on the other side. I will SHOW you what it means to be a 'rebel', and I will educate you in the violent, brutal TRUTH of desperation! I will prove that you are not prepared for the real change you need to make, OR for the emotional and physical torment that comes with it. ...Oh, but I am well-versed in pain, and that brand of mental torture is something I have come to understand intimately well. Let me show you."
*Jonathan quickly unbuttons the clasps on the left sleeve of his jacket, sliding up the fabric of both it and the hoodie underneath to reveal his tattooed forearm. In the firelight we can see it quite clearly, the orange-red glow illuminating his pale skin up to the elbow. There are a few tattoos here and there; a skull, some Japanese Kanji, but the inside of the forearm is largely untouched, because it is instead marked with thin, criss-crossing scars of long-healed self-harm wounds. Some are thicker than others, some cuts going deeper than their brethren, and the wrist is crowned by a prominent deep pink track mark that belies a much more serious attempt.*
"Each of these scars is a memory. A grim reminder of exactly what my desperation brought me. These are the tokens of just how far I've gone, of how close to the edge I can come and still survive. If I'm capable of doing this to me...well, just imagine what I can inflict on you."
*With that, Sanders once again flashes his evil, predatory grin into the camera, dark eyes glinting maliciously as he rolls down his sleeve, pivots on his heel, and walks off into the frigid New York night. The camera holds the scene for a beat, and then we fade.*
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