Post by Caleb Lockwood on Sept 23, 2021 3:15:29 GMT
Ulf Hednir keeps thinking that he's safe. I don't know why. I don't know how. I've made it very clear that any time I want him, I have him. All I need to do is hand over this briefcase. And yet, I didn't pounce right after he put two men I have cared for deeply down. I didn't pounce after he went to war with one of the finest competitors this industry has ever known. If not then, when? If not in the moment, then when should I strike?
Whenever I damn well want.
Malo, you're more of an overt joke than Nick Danger, but I've seen how you move. That's not the movement of an idiot. That's not the movement of someone who isn't deeply, truly talented somewhere in there. Tell me, Malo. Why do you do what you do? Why do you wrap your face in that mask and play the fool when I know you could be so much more? This isn't the Church of Crosse calling, Malo. This isn't a recruitment offer, this is just a question that I want to ask you. This is something I want you to actually think on, maybe for the first time in a long, long time.
But that's something I encourage us all to do. Stretch ourselves. Go beyond our means. Try to expand every once in a while. I...I was so content being that small, incandescent ball of rage for so long, the feral dog of the Pack, the hunger of a vagrant who'd begged for the world's love and been slapped away. But it was eating me from the inside out, the way I devoured everything else. I had to grow to become something more, something meaningful. And I did. I took the top prize in this company from Dean Harper. I won the Joker in the Pack briefcase. I was runner-up in the Roulette. The only reason I wasn't in the Heir to the Throne tournament was that I already had my stamped and sealed shot at the big time.
And you, Malo? What have you done? Is it worth getting dropped on your head, stomped in the face, night in and night out for your paycheck? Each bump adds up, and people love beating you down. It's not your spirits that I worry about. I worry that your frame can only hold up so long. I know I've had some very special support in order to do what I do for so long, and that's not an option everyone has. Hell, I couldn't even offer it to you if I wanted to, and I sure as hell don't want to give you the chance before I've beaten you to piss and back.
But hey, I want you to know that this isn't personal, Malo. Not even the way it is with Nick Danger. See, while he's out here, trying his best, you...you're not. I know you're not. And if you're not willing to give me that best, why should I bother hating you? You're looking for the path of least resistance, and I'm not some compettion-obsessed nutjob that demands the best of everyone. Only the special ones. And you've self-selected for me, Malo. You're just not that special. You're a typical flavor in the most disappointing way. Just a pinch of seasoning to make you stand out from the baseline...but always the same, always there. Never changing...and while some come back to you time and again, because they like the comfort of your boredom...I'm a bit of an epicure. I like novelty.
You're not novel anymore, Malo. You're trite. You're on the dollar menu. And I've got more...refined tastes. But you'll whet my appetite for the moment. Let's dine, shall we?
Whenever I damn well want.
Malo, you're more of an overt joke than Nick Danger, but I've seen how you move. That's not the movement of an idiot. That's not the movement of someone who isn't deeply, truly talented somewhere in there. Tell me, Malo. Why do you do what you do? Why do you wrap your face in that mask and play the fool when I know you could be so much more? This isn't the Church of Crosse calling, Malo. This isn't a recruitment offer, this is just a question that I want to ask you. This is something I want you to actually think on, maybe for the first time in a long, long time.
But that's something I encourage us all to do. Stretch ourselves. Go beyond our means. Try to expand every once in a while. I...I was so content being that small, incandescent ball of rage for so long, the feral dog of the Pack, the hunger of a vagrant who'd begged for the world's love and been slapped away. But it was eating me from the inside out, the way I devoured everything else. I had to grow to become something more, something meaningful. And I did. I took the top prize in this company from Dean Harper. I won the Joker in the Pack briefcase. I was runner-up in the Roulette. The only reason I wasn't in the Heir to the Throne tournament was that I already had my stamped and sealed shot at the big time.
And you, Malo? What have you done? Is it worth getting dropped on your head, stomped in the face, night in and night out for your paycheck? Each bump adds up, and people love beating you down. It's not your spirits that I worry about. I worry that your frame can only hold up so long. I know I've had some very special support in order to do what I do for so long, and that's not an option everyone has. Hell, I couldn't even offer it to you if I wanted to, and I sure as hell don't want to give you the chance before I've beaten you to piss and back.
But hey, I want you to know that this isn't personal, Malo. Not even the way it is with Nick Danger. See, while he's out here, trying his best, you...you're not. I know you're not. And if you're not willing to give me that best, why should I bother hating you? You're looking for the path of least resistance, and I'm not some compettion-obsessed nutjob that demands the best of everyone. Only the special ones. And you've self-selected for me, Malo. You're just not that special. You're a typical flavor in the most disappointing way. Just a pinch of seasoning to make you stand out from the baseline...but always the same, always there. Never changing...and while some come back to you time and again, because they like the comfort of your boredom...I'm a bit of an epicure. I like novelty.
You're not novel anymore, Malo. You're trite. You're on the dollar menu. And I've got more...refined tastes. But you'll whet my appetite for the moment. Let's dine, shall we?