An Exchange Of Beliefs (Supremacy RP#1)
Jan 19, 2021 18:37:34 GMT -5
The Nihilists, anthonycaffrey, and 1 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Jan 19, 2021 18:37:34 GMT -5
In the unusual quiet of the LAX arrival lounge, we see a decidedly unenthused Misha Constantine standing beside his far happier looking girlfriend, whose eyes are open and head bobbing about as she watches for someone.
This is a bad idea.
She gives Misha the sort of smile usually reserved for coaxing a recalcitrant child.
You were the one who said you wanted someone to watch your back and ensure you don't end up in a two on one situation with the Nihilists.
True, but by that I was referring to hiring a professional, not a...
The young woman's eyes narrow at her boyfriend. Misha doesn't quail at the gaze, but there is a definite pause as he searches for more diplomatic phrasing.
...an enthusiastic amateur.
He has five black belts, placed in state for his high school wrestling team, and does parkour. I wouldn't call him an amateur.
Those are impressive credentials, but the fact remains he's never been a pro wrestler.
He's watched wrestling all his life, he'll take to it like a duck to water. Plus you know he'll be loyal. He adores you.
Because I saved you.
Not just that. He...
LIZZIE!!!
Any further discussion is cut off as a short muscular figure dashes in and lifts the young woman up, spinning around with her and laughing, as she giggles and playfully slaps his bald head.
How's my baby sister!?
Increasingly dizzy, you ox!
He sets her down and kisses her on the cheek, before turning to Misha with a grin, arms spread wide.
Mishy! My brother from another mother!
Misha makes no move to reciprocate either the hug or the enthusiasm.
Johnny.
If the new arrival finds Misha's cold front off-putting, he doesn't show it, instead laughing and waving him off.
Ah, still mister grumpy! That's fine, we can work on that. Smuggled in some of my buddy Dale's new strain that will perk you right up!
Johnny, this is California. You can just buy weed from a dispensary.
Not weed this good, bay-be!!!
Johnny gives him finger guns and heads off, leaving Misha to sigh and give his girlfriend a look of annoyance, to which she can only reply with a grin and a shrug.
This is a bad idea.
She gives Misha the sort of smile usually reserved for coaxing a recalcitrant child.
You were the one who said you wanted someone to watch your back and ensure you don't end up in a two on one situation with the Nihilists.
True, but by that I was referring to hiring a professional, not a...
The young woman's eyes narrow at her boyfriend. Misha doesn't quail at the gaze, but there is a definite pause as he searches for more diplomatic phrasing.
...an enthusiastic amateur.
He has five black belts, placed in state for his high school wrestling team, and does parkour. I wouldn't call him an amateur.
Those are impressive credentials, but the fact remains he's never been a pro wrestler.
He's watched wrestling all his life, he'll take to it like a duck to water. Plus you know he'll be loyal. He adores you.
Because I saved you.
Not just that. He...
LIZZIE!!!
Any further discussion is cut off as a short muscular figure dashes in and lifts the young woman up, spinning around with her and laughing, as she giggles and playfully slaps his bald head.
How's my baby sister!?
Increasingly dizzy, you ox!
He sets her down and kisses her on the cheek, before turning to Misha with a grin, arms spread wide.
Mishy! My brother from another mother!
Misha makes no move to reciprocate either the hug or the enthusiasm.
Johnny.
If the new arrival finds Misha's cold front off-putting, he doesn't show it, instead laughing and waving him off.
Ah, still mister grumpy! That's fine, we can work on that. Smuggled in some of my buddy Dale's new strain that will perk you right up!
Johnny, this is California. You can just buy weed from a dispensary.
Not weed this good, bay-be!!!
Johnny gives him finger guns and heads off, leaving Misha to sigh and give his girlfriend a look of annoyance, to which she can only reply with a grin and a shrug.
How do you break the will of a man who believes in nothing?
Misha Constantine sits in an armchair. He pauses for a moment after his question, then looks about his well lit surroundings.
Sorry, this isn't really the ambiance you're accustomed to, is it Esmur? Let me make it more familiar for you.
He clicks his fingers and the lights go out. The darkness is then punctuated by the beam of a torch coming up from his lap, illuminating his features from below.
There, much better. Now, where were we? Ah yes...
How do you break the will of a man who believes in nothing? That's the question I had thought I'd be asking myself, but the more I study my opponent for Supremacy, as well as his partner, the more I realise that their name is ill-chosen. To be a nihilist is to believe in nothing, but while you may not believe in God or The Devil or Buddha or Karma or Fate, Esmur, there is something you believe in. You talk of the importance of a life well lived, without fear or regret. You talk of the importance of leaving a legacy by which to be remembered. When it comes to those beliefs, you and I are not so unalike. What separates us is how we chose to view ourselves. You and Gebin consider yourself messengers; emissaries of some deep truth that the journey matters more than the destination, because the destination is an eternal and infinite void. You have no higher ambitions than to be errand boys. I, on the other hand, am a God.
At this point, I'd imagine you scoff and think back to your old friend Natasha, self-proclaimed Goddess of Death, Passion, Battle, and Try Hard Goths. There's two major differences between her and me though. One: I am not claiming to be an incarnation of a pre-existing deity; rather I am something entirely new, carved from the dirt and pain of human existence. Two: I am not stoned out of my mind on Hunter S Thompson levels of hallucinogens. I am sober and I am sane and I am sure of just how damn good I am. Take a moment and look at everything I have achieved in Fireside so far and you will have no choice but to agree with my assessment. Once our match at Supremacy is through, you will have no choice but to believe in the Self-Made God.
It's a long and torturous road to Damascus you'll be walking, Esmur. A Workhorse match is, as it turns out, another name for an Iron Man match. That means there'll be no wrapping this one up quickly, and no chance you can maybe fluke a quick pin to dethrone me. You and I will be going the distance, and I intend to use every move in my arsenal and every iota of my superlative talent to show the XHF Network why I am the absolute best champion any company here can offer. I don't doubt you'll offer a good fight, but it simply will not be enough. Not even your partner Gebin will be able to help you this time, as he did against Dinosaur Bones, because I've enlisted some back up to make sure the numbers stay even...
The lights click back on, to Misha's apparent surprise. His surprise deepens, joined by visible annoyance, as Johnny jumps into shot, starting to flex dramatically.
Yeah, that's right, you masked philosopher goons!!! You won't get the chance to backstab the SMG MC, 'cause Johnny Five is on the case, bay-be!!! You try and bring in that George Foreman Grill and I'll just take it off you to make some of my spicy chicken thighs after I choke you out or suplex you into submission!!! You call yourself Nihilists? Well you're gonna be annihilated, just like that weird movie, but without the creepy bear, or the silver alien thing dry humping Natalie Portman, or...
The aura of annoyance radiating from Misha finally penetrates Johnny's rambling ranting and he trails off, turning to look sheepishly at the glowering Fireside World Champion.
I, ah, I wasn't supposed to do that, was I?
No.
I'll... I'll just go back over here, yeah?
Yes.
Johnny shuffles awkwardly offscreen, as Misha glares daggers at him. Once he's gone, Misha looks into the camera once more.
Esmur, the name you and your partner adopted states you believe in nothing. Once I'm through with you, nothing is all you'll be.
He click his fingers, and darkness returns.
Misha Constantine sits in an armchair. He pauses for a moment after his question, then looks about his well lit surroundings.
Sorry, this isn't really the ambiance you're accustomed to, is it Esmur? Let me make it more familiar for you.
He clicks his fingers and the lights go out. The darkness is then punctuated by the beam of a torch coming up from his lap, illuminating his features from below.
There, much better. Now, where were we? Ah yes...
How do you break the will of a man who believes in nothing? That's the question I had thought I'd be asking myself, but the more I study my opponent for Supremacy, as well as his partner, the more I realise that their name is ill-chosen. To be a nihilist is to believe in nothing, but while you may not believe in God or The Devil or Buddha or Karma or Fate, Esmur, there is something you believe in. You talk of the importance of a life well lived, without fear or regret. You talk of the importance of leaving a legacy by which to be remembered. When it comes to those beliefs, you and I are not so unalike. What separates us is how we chose to view ourselves. You and Gebin consider yourself messengers; emissaries of some deep truth that the journey matters more than the destination, because the destination is an eternal and infinite void. You have no higher ambitions than to be errand boys. I, on the other hand, am a God.
At this point, I'd imagine you scoff and think back to your old friend Natasha, self-proclaimed Goddess of Death, Passion, Battle, and Try Hard Goths. There's two major differences between her and me though. One: I am not claiming to be an incarnation of a pre-existing deity; rather I am something entirely new, carved from the dirt and pain of human existence. Two: I am not stoned out of my mind on Hunter S Thompson levels of hallucinogens. I am sober and I am sane and I am sure of just how damn good I am. Take a moment and look at everything I have achieved in Fireside so far and you will have no choice but to agree with my assessment. Once our match at Supremacy is through, you will have no choice but to believe in the Self-Made God.
It's a long and torturous road to Damascus you'll be walking, Esmur. A Workhorse match is, as it turns out, another name for an Iron Man match. That means there'll be no wrapping this one up quickly, and no chance you can maybe fluke a quick pin to dethrone me. You and I will be going the distance, and I intend to use every move in my arsenal and every iota of my superlative talent to show the XHF Network why I am the absolute best champion any company here can offer. I don't doubt you'll offer a good fight, but it simply will not be enough. Not even your partner Gebin will be able to help you this time, as he did against Dinosaur Bones, because I've enlisted some back up to make sure the numbers stay even...
The lights click back on, to Misha's apparent surprise. His surprise deepens, joined by visible annoyance, as Johnny jumps into shot, starting to flex dramatically.
Yeah, that's right, you masked philosopher goons!!! You won't get the chance to backstab the SMG MC, 'cause Johnny Five is on the case, bay-be!!! You try and bring in that George Foreman Grill and I'll just take it off you to make some of my spicy chicken thighs after I choke you out or suplex you into submission!!! You call yourself Nihilists? Well you're gonna be annihilated, just like that weird movie, but without the creepy bear, or the silver alien thing dry humping Natalie Portman, or...
The aura of annoyance radiating from Misha finally penetrates Johnny's rambling ranting and he trails off, turning to look sheepishly at the glowering Fireside World Champion.
I, ah, I wasn't supposed to do that, was I?
No.
I'll... I'll just go back over here, yeah?
Yes.
Johnny shuffles awkwardly offscreen, as Misha glares daggers at him. Once he's gone, Misha looks into the camera once more.
Esmur, the name you and your partner adopted states you believe in nothing. Once I'm through with you, nothing is all you'll be.
He click his fingers, and darkness returns.