The Only Threat Is A Spectre
Jan 14, 2018 21:30:02 GMT
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CEO Vincent Pryde, bonnieblue, and 4 more like this
Post by DarkSpectre on Jan 14, 2018 21:30:02 GMT
"The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people."
Randy Pausch
Randy Pausch
Static fades away into the view of a serene garden; or, more precisely, a greenery with various wild flowers and bushes. A masked figure paces about, taking in his surroundings as he gathers his thoughts to speak.
My NBW debut did not go as planned. And I could react in many ways. I could whine about it; grow petty and make excuses. Talk about cheap shots, sneak attacks and the like. I could spend hours talking down on the men I was tasked to defeat, only to end up with a notch on my loss column.
But pettiness, anger, arrogance... These things are a weapon of the weak. A predeliction of the lowest scourge, and base reactions I shant degrade myself with. ShadowLove and Masutarou proved themselves worthy opposition, and I applaud both of their efforts. Heavy Metal, a hand of respect to you for your victory; I will be keeping an eye on you as I have no doubts we will meet again in the ring.
Spectre bows in respect, rising again and turning his attention to the shrubbery about him. A slight grin, he takes a deep breath before continuing.
That, however, is a setting for another day. For now, I have yet another triple threat match in my path. Another wall to climb to the top of NBW's roster. And with two foes who will no doubt give me just as much trouble as Shadow and Heavy Metal did.
One of my adversaries this week is an esteemed member of the Guardians. A champion of many levels and in many ways, a living legend. This is a man who knows what it's like at the top of the mountain, and claws his way through the competition to get back to that point. I have much respect for Mr Richards; both as a Guardian and a solo athlete. However, being on opposite sides of the ring means pinpointing his weaknesses. And for a man like Alex, that is not simple.
A man of Alex's size tends to lack the agility to compare to a high-flyer like myself. But I've seen him move in the ring; and Richards is deceivingly quick. His status as a former World Champion does not come without reason; this is a specimen who can tumble and adapt with the best of us.
Spectre shrugs, bending at one knee to smell a flower. A deep inhale, one can almost see him grin beneath the mask. He stands, taking a moment before he continues.
The one issue he has here, however, lies in the result of last week's main event: Alex Richards CAN and HAS BEEN defeated. Despite his many skills, he still makes errors during combat. My goal this week to usurp position from Alex is to throw him off his game; give him reason to pause and force him out of his comfort zone, then pounce like a leopard onto a confused prey.
Alex, I give you all respect for what you have done and what you continue to do in the squared circle. You may very well be one of the greatest talents NBW has the honor of signing. But my willpower has gotten me through the greatest challenges, pushed me past the largest foes, and has kept me a head above those who would see me dead or forgotten. It gives me no pleasure, needing to cripple you to ANY degree to advance my place here, but I must do what I have always done. I must survive.
Dark Spectre continues to graze through the various greens, coming upon a bench. He takes a seat, playing with one of the flowers for a moment before glancing back at the camera.
As far as my other opponent goes; this little upstart apparently is an assassin for hire. Indeed; when I first made my presence known via social media, he took it upon himself to make something in the way of a veiled threat. Asking ShadowLove if he would value the Red Headed Slut eliminating me from competition.
Pathetic.
Spectre stands, pacing about the garden. He looks amidst the plants, seemingly trying to find something in particular. He continues to speak as he searches, filling the lapse.
Son Nyeo, I understand that your mobster life has taken a back seat to your partying ways. And while that would normally give some pause to believe you are less of a threat, your victory last week proves that you have the skillset to continue assassinating your opposition- to a degree. I won't deny your ability, Son. But I would be amiss not to confirm the kind of hell you are about to encounter.
For all the training you've undergone to become an assassin, you have never encountered one who was raised to survive. For all the time you spent surrounded by loyal soldiers, I chance to say you never crossed paths with one tempranced to excel alone. Despite your lineage as a leader of a high-profile group, you haven't undertaken one whose lineage lies as a simple savage fighting against nature's most beautiful terrors.
We come from two entirely different worlds, Nyeo. Two entirely seperate paths. And yet, we cross this week with one similar goal: defeat the opposition. You've done so with your particular skills, as I have with my own. But Monday, it will be the skills of a trained assassin against the survival instinct of a born and bred wild man.
Spectre seems to have found what he was looking for, leaning down into the shrubbery. A few moments later, he stands to his feet, a weed in hand. He faces the camera, a tinge of satisfaction.
Your job this week is simple, Nyeo Son. Find and eliminate another target. Seems easy enough for someone who has been learned in such a thing for the large majority of his life.
For me, it's much more complicated. I have the task of facing two predators, significantly practiced in varied arts. Survive the onslaught that is most certainly in my near future. And come out on top, having overcome all the odds placed against me.
For myself, this is about looking beyond the beauty of this display, looking through the appearances before me and weeding out the weaknesses of those around me. I have to sense that moment of hesitancy in my foes and strike, quickly and with great force. And when that happens...
Spectre tears the weed asunder, tossing it to the brick path beneath his feet. He looks back up, one can almost see a grin through his mask.
They will come to the unnerving realization that Darkness Abounds.
Spectre nods his head, walking down the pathway towards the greenhouse exit. The camera follows for a moment, then turns back towards the various greenery as we fade to static.
My NBW debut did not go as planned. And I could react in many ways. I could whine about it; grow petty and make excuses. Talk about cheap shots, sneak attacks and the like. I could spend hours talking down on the men I was tasked to defeat, only to end up with a notch on my loss column.
But pettiness, anger, arrogance... These things are a weapon of the weak. A predeliction of the lowest scourge, and base reactions I shant degrade myself with. ShadowLove and Masutarou proved themselves worthy opposition, and I applaud both of their efforts. Heavy Metal, a hand of respect to you for your victory; I will be keeping an eye on you as I have no doubts we will meet again in the ring.
Spectre bows in respect, rising again and turning his attention to the shrubbery about him. A slight grin, he takes a deep breath before continuing.
That, however, is a setting for another day. For now, I have yet another triple threat match in my path. Another wall to climb to the top of NBW's roster. And with two foes who will no doubt give me just as much trouble as Shadow and Heavy Metal did.
One of my adversaries this week is an esteemed member of the Guardians. A champion of many levels and in many ways, a living legend. This is a man who knows what it's like at the top of the mountain, and claws his way through the competition to get back to that point. I have much respect for Mr Richards; both as a Guardian and a solo athlete. However, being on opposite sides of the ring means pinpointing his weaknesses. And for a man like Alex, that is not simple.
A man of Alex's size tends to lack the agility to compare to a high-flyer like myself. But I've seen him move in the ring; and Richards is deceivingly quick. His status as a former World Champion does not come without reason; this is a specimen who can tumble and adapt with the best of us.
Spectre shrugs, bending at one knee to smell a flower. A deep inhale, one can almost see him grin beneath the mask. He stands, taking a moment before he continues.
The one issue he has here, however, lies in the result of last week's main event: Alex Richards CAN and HAS BEEN defeated. Despite his many skills, he still makes errors during combat. My goal this week to usurp position from Alex is to throw him off his game; give him reason to pause and force him out of his comfort zone, then pounce like a leopard onto a confused prey.
Alex, I give you all respect for what you have done and what you continue to do in the squared circle. You may very well be one of the greatest talents NBW has the honor of signing. But my willpower has gotten me through the greatest challenges, pushed me past the largest foes, and has kept me a head above those who would see me dead or forgotten. It gives me no pleasure, needing to cripple you to ANY degree to advance my place here, but I must do what I have always done. I must survive.
Dark Spectre continues to graze through the various greens, coming upon a bench. He takes a seat, playing with one of the flowers for a moment before glancing back at the camera.
As far as my other opponent goes; this little upstart apparently is an assassin for hire. Indeed; when I first made my presence known via social media, he took it upon himself to make something in the way of a veiled threat. Asking ShadowLove if he would value the Red Headed Slut eliminating me from competition.
Pathetic.
Spectre stands, pacing about the garden. He looks amidst the plants, seemingly trying to find something in particular. He continues to speak as he searches, filling the lapse.
Son Nyeo, I understand that your mobster life has taken a back seat to your partying ways. And while that would normally give some pause to believe you are less of a threat, your victory last week proves that you have the skillset to continue assassinating your opposition- to a degree. I won't deny your ability, Son. But I would be amiss not to confirm the kind of hell you are about to encounter.
For all the training you've undergone to become an assassin, you have never encountered one who was raised to survive. For all the time you spent surrounded by loyal soldiers, I chance to say you never crossed paths with one tempranced to excel alone. Despite your lineage as a leader of a high-profile group, you haven't undertaken one whose lineage lies as a simple savage fighting against nature's most beautiful terrors.
We come from two entirely different worlds, Nyeo. Two entirely seperate paths. And yet, we cross this week with one similar goal: defeat the opposition. You've done so with your particular skills, as I have with my own. But Monday, it will be the skills of a trained assassin against the survival instinct of a born and bred wild man.
Spectre seems to have found what he was looking for, leaning down into the shrubbery. A few moments later, he stands to his feet, a weed in hand. He faces the camera, a tinge of satisfaction.
Your job this week is simple, Nyeo Son. Find and eliminate another target. Seems easy enough for someone who has been learned in such a thing for the large majority of his life.
For me, it's much more complicated. I have the task of facing two predators, significantly practiced in varied arts. Survive the onslaught that is most certainly in my near future. And come out on top, having overcome all the odds placed against me.
For myself, this is about looking beyond the beauty of this display, looking through the appearances before me and weeding out the weaknesses of those around me. I have to sense that moment of hesitancy in my foes and strike, quickly and with great force. And when that happens...
Spectre tears the weed asunder, tossing it to the brick path beneath his feet. He looks back up, one can almost see a grin through his mask.
They will come to the unnerving realization that Darkness Abounds.
Spectre nods his head, walking down the pathway towards the greenhouse exit. The camera follows for a moment, then turns back towards the various greenery as we fade to static.