Post by dweaver3 on Feb 11, 2010 13:06:30 GMT -5
Canada's Hero
The Return Part 10
Roleplay 1 of 2 for Valentine's Day Massacre
The smell of mediocrity had come across the face of the once legend known as Canada’s Hero. The unwelcoming, unforgiving, and surely unpleasant aroma followed closely behind his footsteps everywhere he traveled. He had made his debut, albeit without meeting the high expectations he had set forth to reach, and therefore falling flat on his face in defeat. The task was tall, and of great importance, but the result was unparalleled to anything he had ever witnessed. 24 men began the night with the same hopes and dreams, one ended the night by realizing those dreams, however, it just wasn’t him.
Everywhere he looked he saw him, everywhere he glanced the image replayed in his mind, the agony of defeat had been revisited. It seemed too real, because it was. Maybe it was his ego, or maybe cockiness, or maybe even he was just a little naïve, but he had failed to imagine himself not walking out of the Garden with gold around his waist. He had not envisioned what would happen if that miracle didn’t come to fruition.
The limelight was cast upon him in front of the thousands of fans, and he felt like never before. He felt like somebody, like he mattered, like his life had importance, like he really was somebody’s HERO. It was a sudden urge of adrenaline that was unexplainable; no words could match its sheer brilliance. Elizabeth glowed that night in his eyes, like a heavenly figure sent from the highest down to be by his side through thick and thin. She had looked up to him, had hoped he could be what he once was, had trusted the gold would soon be back for him, had believed him when he said that even in the years off he never lost a step.
Disappointment, disgust, bitterness? Was she feeling all of these emotions like he was? It couldn’t have been intense, no way, he wouldn’t wish it on the least of men. Life wasn’t meant to be lived this way, not in this pain, not in this hurt. He thought of a quote that Mike, the local bartender, have told him one late night over beers. It had hit home then, but today it hit home in a unforeseen fashion…
“Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim”
An impossible aim. Was that really what he had set up for himself? Who else would expect to win every match to work their way through wrestlers who had actually been competing the past few years. He did. Maybe it was impossible, maybe it was foolish, but it was the only way. He would not back down, not lower his standards, not succumb to mediocrity. His grandfather, his own true hero, had given him a quote that had stayed implanted in his brain day after day. It was something that he felt he modeled himself on.
“The greater the danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
The bar had to be set at its highest point and that is being at the top of the mountain, reaching the peak instead of standing at the summit. Where was he now? He had positioned himself somewhere in between. Somewhere that the media had proclaimed was “mediocrity”. A spot where many trodded, many remained, and few ever were able to catapult themselves out of.
Elizabeth: Dustin!! Wake up it’s already noon!
Dustin: Huh? What? Where?
Elizabeth: Are you dreaming again?
Dustin: (pauses)… ummm no, of course not
Elizabeth: You were weren’t you? Please tell me you are over what happened last week.
Dustin: Over it? How the hell can I be over it?
Elizabeth: Just move on. This is different. You aren’t who you were before.
Dustin: I know… it’s just I worked so hard.
Elizabeth: So did everyone else. Now quit throwing a pity party and get your ass up.
Dustin: I’m trying, I’m trying, just 5 more minutes.
Elizabeth jerks him up out of bed after tugging at his arm for awhile. He reluctantly takes her arm and positions himself in an upright position at the foot of the bed.
Elizabeth: If you don’t get to the gym in the next fifteen minutes we are canceling your match this week. I will go to the owner and do it personally. You either keep going or we end this once and for all.
With that extra ounce of motivation Dustin realizes that he must end his sorrow. There is another day on the horizon and the sun will rise and set just as it did the day before. The past is the past, what is gone can be forgotten, but what is yet to come will not. Valentine’s Day Massacre is the next stop on this journey ride through the valley in hopes of once reaching the peak. The only thing that stands in his way of redemption is one man. The man that we speak of is known to many as Christian Gold. He has climbed his way to the top of the PWR ranks. He has allowed himself the opportunity to step into the ring with Canada’s Hero with a shot at the World Championship on the line.
Even with the embarrassing loss of the previous week a lower morale would surely cause destruction again. This time in front of a world-wide pay per view audience. The quotes that were in his sleep continued to flash through his brain again. He must try to shake off the bruises, the aches, the pains, the struggles of returning to the ring weekly, and somehow bring every fiber of his being and defeat this man to earn his shot. If he didn’t get it, he didn’t deserve it, he would hang it up. His time was now, the clock was ticking, and the world was watching.
Life had gotten a bit more real…. Valentine’s Day Massacre was next…
The Return Part 10
Roleplay 1 of 2 for Valentine's Day Massacre
The smell of mediocrity had come across the face of the once legend known as Canada’s Hero. The unwelcoming, unforgiving, and surely unpleasant aroma followed closely behind his footsteps everywhere he traveled. He had made his debut, albeit without meeting the high expectations he had set forth to reach, and therefore falling flat on his face in defeat. The task was tall, and of great importance, but the result was unparalleled to anything he had ever witnessed. 24 men began the night with the same hopes and dreams, one ended the night by realizing those dreams, however, it just wasn’t him.
Everywhere he looked he saw him, everywhere he glanced the image replayed in his mind, the agony of defeat had been revisited. It seemed too real, because it was. Maybe it was his ego, or maybe cockiness, or maybe even he was just a little naïve, but he had failed to imagine himself not walking out of the Garden with gold around his waist. He had not envisioned what would happen if that miracle didn’t come to fruition.
The limelight was cast upon him in front of the thousands of fans, and he felt like never before. He felt like somebody, like he mattered, like his life had importance, like he really was somebody’s HERO. It was a sudden urge of adrenaline that was unexplainable; no words could match its sheer brilliance. Elizabeth glowed that night in his eyes, like a heavenly figure sent from the highest down to be by his side through thick and thin. She had looked up to him, had hoped he could be what he once was, had trusted the gold would soon be back for him, had believed him when he said that even in the years off he never lost a step.
Disappointment, disgust, bitterness? Was she feeling all of these emotions like he was? It couldn’t have been intense, no way, he wouldn’t wish it on the least of men. Life wasn’t meant to be lived this way, not in this pain, not in this hurt. He thought of a quote that Mike, the local bartender, have told him one late night over beers. It had hit home then, but today it hit home in a unforeseen fashion…
“Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim”
An impossible aim. Was that really what he had set up for himself? Who else would expect to win every match to work their way through wrestlers who had actually been competing the past few years. He did. Maybe it was impossible, maybe it was foolish, but it was the only way. He would not back down, not lower his standards, not succumb to mediocrity. His grandfather, his own true hero, had given him a quote that had stayed implanted in his brain day after day. It was something that he felt he modeled himself on.
“The greater the danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
The bar had to be set at its highest point and that is being at the top of the mountain, reaching the peak instead of standing at the summit. Where was he now? He had positioned himself somewhere in between. Somewhere that the media had proclaimed was “mediocrity”. A spot where many trodded, many remained, and few ever were able to catapult themselves out of.
Elizabeth: Dustin!! Wake up it’s already noon!
Dustin: Huh? What? Where?
Elizabeth: Are you dreaming again?
Dustin: (pauses)… ummm no, of course not
Elizabeth: You were weren’t you? Please tell me you are over what happened last week.
Dustin: Over it? How the hell can I be over it?
Elizabeth: Just move on. This is different. You aren’t who you were before.
Dustin: I know… it’s just I worked so hard.
Elizabeth: So did everyone else. Now quit throwing a pity party and get your ass up.
Dustin: I’m trying, I’m trying, just 5 more minutes.
Elizabeth jerks him up out of bed after tugging at his arm for awhile. He reluctantly takes her arm and positions himself in an upright position at the foot of the bed.
Elizabeth: If you don’t get to the gym in the next fifteen minutes we are canceling your match this week. I will go to the owner and do it personally. You either keep going or we end this once and for all.
With that extra ounce of motivation Dustin realizes that he must end his sorrow. There is another day on the horizon and the sun will rise and set just as it did the day before. The past is the past, what is gone can be forgotten, but what is yet to come will not. Valentine’s Day Massacre is the next stop on this journey ride through the valley in hopes of once reaching the peak. The only thing that stands in his way of redemption is one man. The man that we speak of is known to many as Christian Gold. He has climbed his way to the top of the PWR ranks. He has allowed himself the opportunity to step into the ring with Canada’s Hero with a shot at the World Championship on the line.
Even with the embarrassing loss of the previous week a lower morale would surely cause destruction again. This time in front of a world-wide pay per view audience. The quotes that were in his sleep continued to flash through his brain again. He must try to shake off the bruises, the aches, the pains, the struggles of returning to the ring weekly, and somehow bring every fiber of his being and defeat this man to earn his shot. If he didn’t get it, he didn’t deserve it, he would hang it up. His time was now, the clock was ticking, and the world was watching.
Life had gotten a bit more real…. Valentine’s Day Massacre was next…