Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt

[Sephiroth du Lac]

"The first test of a truly great man is his humility.
By humility I don't mean doubt of his powers or hesitation in speaking his opinion,
but merely an understanding of the relationship of what he can say and what he can do."
-John Ruskin-

Respect..
it's hard to come by
it is that which is
the hardest to come by.
That rare accolade
that men bleed for.
that men leave they're families for.
That day in and day out,
we strive for in this damn dirty business.
It starts so simple
a nod
a motion when one walks by,
or in this case
a tip of a glass.
A show of respect
It's all I wanted
upon my return.
Now that I have it...

I will earn it.

*The scene opens on a darkened room glowing with naught but the warm light of a television screen. Sitting before it eyes glued to it's content is the figure of the Fallen One, Sephiroth du Lac. Before him on a table sits a book and upon it sits a quill pen. An ink well sits nearby upon the coffee table as he stares intently a move, a motion on screen. Sudden, quick. He nods as if in silent communication, as if glimpsing some alien understanding from this sight. With a quick pull he brings the book once more into his lap dipping the quill in the well with a light if fluid motion. Penning into the page with the artistry of a true calligrapher. As the camera pans behind his shoulder we see older footage, footage of a younger, leaner, and stronger Mac Bane. His old shoots, his older matches, his promos, even home videos of his son and wife. His eyes look up sinking every moment of a man's career in small fifteen minute clips. Eight years have unfolded in mere hours as Seph reaches for the remote. The book, leather bound, it's pages flowing with beautiful script flowed as if from one who has penned ancient manuscripts with meticulous detail. it reads more like a manual however, recording every hard fall, every injury, every word spoken however minor. It is a somewhat unnerving image to some, to others however it is clear... knowledge is power and the Sanguine Assassin knows much about power. The images pause but for a moment as Seph leans back rubbing ink stained hands upon his now aching and tired eyes. He looks up but a moment at the camera and sighs in relaxation slowly bringing the fruit of his labor up into his long slender fingers.*

Seph: Ah, many think that this job is as simple as taking one's fist and smashing an opponent repeatedly until you either pin them or submit. I've met men like that. Beaten men like that, opponents far superior, or so it seems, to myself. I am often asked by the wide eyed rookie or the starry eyed fan, simply, 'how'? Alas it seems my methods are laid bare for all to see. See with men like Shozan Okata it is as simple as knowing the type of person he is. The type of man he is. His personality, his style. Most of this craft rarely run from their most basic teachings. Conquer such rudimentary skills and often you dissect your opponent, much like one unravels a roll of toilet paper. Actually it is a good analogy for men of this sort. Toilet paper waiting to be used for the relief of their excrement like styles and tossed aside. Flushed by the faceless corporate entities that bid them fight. I've seen hundreds of men like this. Outlasted them all. How? Simple. A combination of experience, ability, and sheer and utter brutality. One might pity such creatures...

*Seph sneers glancing up from the book into the very center of the camera lens.*

Seph: But, I do not feel pity. Nor do I feel anything toward the man that would be called the "Style King". You are nothing and when you are back to sitting in your tiny apartment playing your ren'ai shimyurēshon gēmu and pining for your love+ girlfriend to be your blushing bride, I will be here and so will the man I have spent the last few hours studying.

*Seph smiles slightly letting his head drop a bit hair falling down before glancing up with eyes like a cat ready to toy with a mouse it has pounced upon.*

Seph: Hello, Mr. Bane.

*He chuckles slightly closing his eyes. A deep breath draws in sighing in contentment feeling that old feeling rising up once more. His hand lets the book drop to his lap running a hand upon it as if it's words were like precious gold or jewels as he gently reopens his eyes glancing coyly at the camera.*

Seph: You have my attention. I admire watching such a stoic career so much like my own. The windfalls, the success, the pain of betrayal, and the long struggle to maintain some semblance of power. It is a tale worthy of the bard itself. Several times a champion both in singles and in tag team competition. I wonder... do you remember it all? UCWA? NAW? The pain of the betrayal as Trent Brown struck his then partner. The pride in seeing R.J. wanting to follow in your footsteps. The soft feel of Michelle's lips upon yours. Sharing in your triumph and cradling you in your tragedies. You use to have more... much more. In fact I recall a young girl named... oh what was it?

*He raises the book for a slight moment dropping his eyes with a simple glance before letting it rest again and glancing back to the viewer.*

Seph: Ah, yes, Julia... do you remember her? Do you remember what you once said to her? You said 'Fear, uncertainty and doubt are career killers'. Truer words were never spoken. These things have turned champions into shadows of their former selves. These things have undermined the glory of great leaders in fact and turned great empires to ruins. Fear... Uncertainty... Doubt... now maybe it's the long hours or perhaps it's the utter lack of boredom I felt when I watched your most private moments but you see I fixated on these words. I let them sink in and i believe what we have here is indeed a good example of life imitating art. You see each one of us represents one of those words. Each one of us embodies these ideals and I know... I know dear viewer it might be a stretch but hear me and learn from my words, children. I know of what I speak.

*He leans in resting his elbows upon the books pages, eyes tired heavy but glued. Forced open like a mad man afraid to sleep as he gazes deep into the nothingness of his nonexistent audience.*

Seph: You see Shozan, you represent uncertainty. The uncertainty of youth for a start but more than that for all the bravado men like you so boisterously proclaim to have you have grown silent. Perhaps it was the devastating loss, perhaps it is the silent rage seeking retribution but I think I know the reason. You are uncertain... uncertain whether you can stand toe to toe with two titans of the ring. Well, let me remove your uncertainty post haste. You cannot... nay, will not win.

*He says it with slow contempt and condemnation as he leans in the glow of the screen illuminating his face in a strange pale blue glow.*

Seph: And I? I represent fear. But not my own fear. No. Merely the fear of all who face me. The fear of unbridled success. The fear that twitches in the hearts of champions when they see my name on their listing. The fear of an entire locker room as I walk among them leaving a cold unearthly chill in the air. It is the fear that makes children cling to they're mothers as I strike an opponent until he twitches a bloody mass on the floor. I AM FEAR PERSONIFIED!!!

*Seph then smiles picking up the book in both hands shaking his head. Staring at it intently as his long hair falls and drapes before him. His face hidden by the long pale locks now glowing blue in the light.*

Seph: Which brings me to you, Mr. Bane. Shozan is uncertainty. I am Fear. But you... you are doubt. And no like fear it is not my doubt. Not the slinking thought of cowards and fools that I might not be good enough to beat you. No, I know I am good enough. No, the doubt I speak of is yours. Because I've seen the matches, the promos, the sacrifices and the tears. I have bore witness to it all, Mac. Your entire career, hours of footage poured over and you know the one thing you lacked, Mac Bane? You know the one thing that was missing? The answer is simple... a man like me! A man that is the very opposite side of the coin. I am the man you wish you could be. Unbridled, unhinged, unmastered. I am your shadow. I am everything you looked in this business to accomplish. A legend in every sense of the word. And while you are good, YES, you are good. You aren't good enough. And that's the doubt. Not in yourself. Not in me. Just this... that you are good. Just not good enough. And that's the real fear. That's the real uncertainty. That's the real doubt. And you can feel it, can't you? Gnawing at you even now. The real career killer. The self. So as I...

*He chuckles a bit as he slams the book with both hands tossing hair back as he glances back at the camera, smirking a bit.*

Seph: ... close the book upon such a long storied career I am left with one final thought. When you feel that hand slowly wrap about your neck and your legs fall upward into the air remember these words... 'it's not the fall that will kill you, it's the sudden stop at the end'. For I am... the Fallen wah...

Voice: Mi amorrr....

*The sing song voice interrupts his usual diatribe as he stops and turns the silhouette stands in the dim light, her features obscured. Seph sighs as the figure of maria stands her hands setting upon her hips. He looks up slightly annoyed at the disturbance.*

Seph: Yes, my treasure?

Maria: Come to bed, amor.

Seph: I am busy, love.

Maria: Oh Really? Too busy for this?

*The camera cuts to behind her as a sheer robe falls gently to the floor, the vague sign of her corset sits upon her upper frame, the bottom cut off by the camera's angle. Seph glances up and for a moment his eyes widen. Then the camera cuts back to a front view of him as he shifts his eyes toward the camera without moving his head. He finally turns to the camera and smiles as if in apology.*

Seph: Excuse me, won't you? I'm afraid husbandly duties um... call, as it were.

Maria: Mi amorrr?

Seph: Cominggg?! Another time, my friends.

*With that he tosses the book on the table and rises with a sly coy smile walking off screen. The sound of a light giggle and a soft feminine purr resounds from off screen as the camera focuses on the book paying attention to the now exposed title. It simply reads 'The Path to Victory' as the scene fades to black.*