Post by Jove Belane on Apr 25, 2017 18:16:10 GMT -5
Reality is relative.
There is no video footage proclaiming that Jove Belane was once a champion. There is no carefully staged ‘gruesome’ scene. There is only Jove, standing over the camera with the night sky behind him. The stars shine like headlights against the pitch black backdrop.
“First and foremost, I feel obligated to congratulate Azrael on his accomplishments thus far at Union Battleground. The notoriety of his exploits were a deciding factor in my agent’s push to get ‘Jove Belane’ into the ‘battleground’. Azrael defeated both ‘Kreature’ and ‘Hunter Grand’ in two matches comparable only to the spectacle of an execution. Yet, I am unsure whether or not the name ‘Angel of Death’ truly belongs to Azrael.”
There’s a momentary flash of light before a shooting star drives down from the sky, leaving a green arc which slowly dissipates.
“Now, with frivolity out of the way, it must be stated that neither Kreature nor Hunter Grand were up to the standards of the ‘Angel of Death’ Azrael. Hunter Grand and Kreature combined, likely could not muster the ingenuity it would require to pin the proverbial ‘tail on a donkey’, let alone pin a man the likes of Azrael.”
A woman steps up to Jove, but her face is out of view. She grabs his hand.
“Do not misunderstand these musings for blanket compliments for Azrael, however.”
The scene changes abruptly to find Jove behind a bar, with the woman, enjoying a whiskey, neat.
“We must return to frivolity for a moment before we can move forward into ‘uncharted territory’. Azrael, The Angel of Death is a reference to he who is the ‘helper of god’. He is not the ‘bringer of death’ nor does he bring torment. He is merely the angel who, when called upon, returns souls to ‘God’ as per request.”
The woman leans over to kiss Jove’s neck.
“Why must I mention this?”
Jove finishes his whiskey.
“Azrael uses this ‘nickname’ to intimidate. He believes that his nickname, teamed with a cliche black leather jacket will impress upon his opponents the thought that he is, am I to presume, invincible? Perhaps. At the very least, he wishes to be intimidating in a ‘lone teenage gunman shooting up the school lunchroom’ kind of way. I will, however, avoid straying from the point. The moral to be uncovered is that Azrael’s somewhat simplistic idea of what the ‘Angel of Death’ could result in his own visit with the angel.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove is dancing with the same woman with jet black hair and eyes which radiate something almost supernatural. It’s Mariska.
“I believe Azrael humanized himself while facing ‘Kreature’. The match was much less ‘the battle of cliche names’ and much more ‘man vs man’. Azrael went to great lengths to draw focus to the fact Kreature was human and ‘bleeds’ like the rest of us. In doing so, Azrael humanized himself. I commend him on admitting that he is not actually Azrael.”
There’s a momentary eye roll.
“It would seem quite silly for the ‘Angel of Death’ to be spending his time on earth, throwing double axe handles and drop kicks.”
Jove spins the woman and pulls her back towards him and holds her tight as they sway.
“Yes, Azrael is in fact human. Human and bound by the same laws as the rest of us. I am disappointed about one small thing, though...if he were truly in a battlefield veteran, he would know that it is an ‘IED’, improvised explosive device, and not an ‘IUD’, which, if I remember correctly refers to an ‘Intrauterine device’, which is--birth control. My apologies if this is a meretricious observation, but still, it reveals that Azrael is human in subject to inaccuracies. Then again, perhaps a loved one’s intrauterine device exploded, in which case, my condolences.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove can be seen, now shirtless, in bed. The woman he recently danced with is now straddling his pelvis, but the downward view from the camera catches only Jove as he continues to speak.
“Azrael has defeated two competitors who have proven to be rubbish. One, well, I’m not sure exists within a healthy reality and the next, Hunter Grand, could not even refer to Azrael by his correct first name. I believe he opted for ‘Abigail’ as a title for this man, if memory serves. Misogyny sells, I suppose. This passive decision on Hunter Grand’s part, was likely the result of immature thinking. He believed being flippant in regards to Azrael's name would make him seem cool during his self-congratulatory and condescending rant. Hunter Grand had no idea who he was stepping into the ring with and practically showed it off like a tattered feather boa. Again, we’re left with the sparkling reality that Azrael entered a second match with an opponent who simply was not prepared for him.”
They reposition and the camera shifts to catch Jove from the front as the woman bends over in front of him.
“What happens when Azrael steps into the ring with someone who has paid attention to him?”
She moans loudly as Jove continues.
“I’m not going to step into the scene of an apparent suicide and effectively leave enough DNA and trace evidence to link myself to the death. I’m not going to attempt to scare those I face with what could be completely fabricated events and ‘gruesome’ repetitive nonsense. I don’t need it spectacle to have my voice heard.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove is in bed beside the woman who is now sleeping. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He lights it.
“When I really stop to think about it, Azrael’s story is full of more holes than the back of the assumed suicide victim’s head--the result of the explosion of buckshot.”
He exhales.
“Azrael speaks of ‘his reality’ as though it is the ‘only reality’. He believes that Kreature and Hunter live in their own worlds and I believe he firmly believes that his ‘reality’ is not one he has created for himself. He exists within limits he has set for himself and quite frankly, I believe the moment his reality is shaken, he may find out just how unstable it has been all along. To compare, I have no firm ideology of which ‘reality’ there is other than, actual reality.”
Jove ashes the cigarette carelessly on the carpet beside the bed.
“Reality is relative. There are no absolutes.”
Again he exhales.
“Learn.”
Once again the scene shifts and we’re looking at a mirror view of Jove as he’s brushing his teeth. In the mirror, you can see the woman, Mariska, as she’s dressing. He pauses brushing his teeth to speak.
“Azrael has built walls around himself and expects those who gaze upon these walls to see large and impenetrable barriers. From a distance, and for people like Hunter who aren’t looking at all, these walls are impressive and represent very little vulnerability. Yet, when closely inspected, one begins to see cracks. Fake suicides, over referenced nursery rhymes, and ‘IUD’s’ are examples of these cracks in the facade. Further inspection reveals that these walls are in fact, paper thin. When turned sideways, they’re as thin as Hunter Grand’s claims to fame.”
He goes back to brushing his teeth and finally spits. He cups his hands beneath the faucet and sips the pooled water and swish-swashes. He spits.
“Azrael now needs me to either be intimidated by his facade or simply not pay attention. If he hopes to come out of ‘L!GHTS OUT’ with another W to boast, he will need another opponent who is either completely lost in fantasy or his/her own smell. This will not be the case as he steps into the ring with a man who knows what ‘reality’ really feels like. Azrael’s desperate and sputtered statements in reference to his own prowess will not do when we come to blows. Within the vacuum of his and his opponent’s ignorance, perhaps his words have meaning.”
Now Jove is in the bathtub, soaking up to his chest. He looks calm and collected. In the periphery you can see Mariska leaning against the sink, brushing her hair.
“Perhaps one day there will be a fable written about my meeting with Azrael, the Angel of Death. It will be a fun tale about a proud Warrior who believed himself invincible. This warrior carried himself in the shadows so his enemies could not see his weaknesses. Many of his enemies feared the dark and were unprepared when he lept from the darkness to take them down. Yet, one day came a warrior who carried with him, a lantern. When the proud warrior found himself without the darkness to save him, he was easily defeated.”
The camera zooms in on Jove’s eyes.
“The moral being...Azrael’s weaknesses are hidden only to those who cannot bear to look.”
“Reality is relative.”
End.
There is no video footage proclaiming that Jove Belane was once a champion. There is no carefully staged ‘gruesome’ scene. There is only Jove, standing over the camera with the night sky behind him. The stars shine like headlights against the pitch black backdrop.
“First and foremost, I feel obligated to congratulate Azrael on his accomplishments thus far at Union Battleground. The notoriety of his exploits were a deciding factor in my agent’s push to get ‘Jove Belane’ into the ‘battleground’. Azrael defeated both ‘Kreature’ and ‘Hunter Grand’ in two matches comparable only to the spectacle of an execution. Yet, I am unsure whether or not the name ‘Angel of Death’ truly belongs to Azrael.”
There’s a momentary flash of light before a shooting star drives down from the sky, leaving a green arc which slowly dissipates.
“Now, with frivolity out of the way, it must be stated that neither Kreature nor Hunter Grand were up to the standards of the ‘Angel of Death’ Azrael. Hunter Grand and Kreature combined, likely could not muster the ingenuity it would require to pin the proverbial ‘tail on a donkey’, let alone pin a man the likes of Azrael.”
A woman steps up to Jove, but her face is out of view. She grabs his hand.
“Do not misunderstand these musings for blanket compliments for Azrael, however.”
The scene changes abruptly to find Jove behind a bar, with the woman, enjoying a whiskey, neat.
“We must return to frivolity for a moment before we can move forward into ‘uncharted territory’. Azrael, The Angel of Death is a reference to he who is the ‘helper of god’. He is not the ‘bringer of death’ nor does he bring torment. He is merely the angel who, when called upon, returns souls to ‘God’ as per request.”
The woman leans over to kiss Jove’s neck.
“Why must I mention this?”
Jove finishes his whiskey.
“Azrael uses this ‘nickname’ to intimidate. He believes that his nickname, teamed with a cliche black leather jacket will impress upon his opponents the thought that he is, am I to presume, invincible? Perhaps. At the very least, he wishes to be intimidating in a ‘lone teenage gunman shooting up the school lunchroom’ kind of way. I will, however, avoid straying from the point. The moral to be uncovered is that Azrael’s somewhat simplistic idea of what the ‘Angel of Death’ could result in his own visit with the angel.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove is dancing with the same woman with jet black hair and eyes which radiate something almost supernatural. It’s Mariska.
“I believe Azrael humanized himself while facing ‘Kreature’. The match was much less ‘the battle of cliche names’ and much more ‘man vs man’. Azrael went to great lengths to draw focus to the fact Kreature was human and ‘bleeds’ like the rest of us. In doing so, Azrael humanized himself. I commend him on admitting that he is not actually Azrael.”
There’s a momentary eye roll.
“It would seem quite silly for the ‘Angel of Death’ to be spending his time on earth, throwing double axe handles and drop kicks.”
Jove spins the woman and pulls her back towards him and holds her tight as they sway.
“Yes, Azrael is in fact human. Human and bound by the same laws as the rest of us. I am disappointed about one small thing, though...if he were truly in a battlefield veteran, he would know that it is an ‘IED’, improvised explosive device, and not an ‘IUD’, which, if I remember correctly refers to an ‘Intrauterine device’, which is--birth control. My apologies if this is a meretricious observation, but still, it reveals that Azrael is human in subject to inaccuracies. Then again, perhaps a loved one’s intrauterine device exploded, in which case, my condolences.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove can be seen, now shirtless, in bed. The woman he recently danced with is now straddling his pelvis, but the downward view from the camera catches only Jove as he continues to speak.
“Azrael has defeated two competitors who have proven to be rubbish. One, well, I’m not sure exists within a healthy reality and the next, Hunter Grand, could not even refer to Azrael by his correct first name. I believe he opted for ‘Abigail’ as a title for this man, if memory serves. Misogyny sells, I suppose. This passive decision on Hunter Grand’s part, was likely the result of immature thinking. He believed being flippant in regards to Azrael's name would make him seem cool during his self-congratulatory and condescending rant. Hunter Grand had no idea who he was stepping into the ring with and practically showed it off like a tattered feather boa. Again, we’re left with the sparkling reality that Azrael entered a second match with an opponent who simply was not prepared for him.”
They reposition and the camera shifts to catch Jove from the front as the woman bends over in front of him.
“What happens when Azrael steps into the ring with someone who has paid attention to him?”
She moans loudly as Jove continues.
“I’m not going to step into the scene of an apparent suicide and effectively leave enough DNA and trace evidence to link myself to the death. I’m not going to attempt to scare those I face with what could be completely fabricated events and ‘gruesome’ repetitive nonsense. I don’t need it spectacle to have my voice heard.”
The scene shifts again and now Jove is in bed beside the woman who is now sleeping. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He lights it.
“When I really stop to think about it, Azrael’s story is full of more holes than the back of the assumed suicide victim’s head--the result of the explosion of buckshot.”
He exhales.
“Azrael speaks of ‘his reality’ as though it is the ‘only reality’. He believes that Kreature and Hunter live in their own worlds and I believe he firmly believes that his ‘reality’ is not one he has created for himself. He exists within limits he has set for himself and quite frankly, I believe the moment his reality is shaken, he may find out just how unstable it has been all along. To compare, I have no firm ideology of which ‘reality’ there is other than, actual reality.”
Jove ashes the cigarette carelessly on the carpet beside the bed.
“Reality is relative. There are no absolutes.”
Again he exhales.
“Learn.”
Once again the scene shifts and we’re looking at a mirror view of Jove as he’s brushing his teeth. In the mirror, you can see the woman, Mariska, as she’s dressing. He pauses brushing his teeth to speak.
“Azrael has built walls around himself and expects those who gaze upon these walls to see large and impenetrable barriers. From a distance, and for people like Hunter who aren’t looking at all, these walls are impressive and represent very little vulnerability. Yet, when closely inspected, one begins to see cracks. Fake suicides, over referenced nursery rhymes, and ‘IUD’s’ are examples of these cracks in the facade. Further inspection reveals that these walls are in fact, paper thin. When turned sideways, they’re as thin as Hunter Grand’s claims to fame.”
He goes back to brushing his teeth and finally spits. He cups his hands beneath the faucet and sips the pooled water and swish-swashes. He spits.
“Azrael now needs me to either be intimidated by his facade or simply not pay attention. If he hopes to come out of ‘L!GHTS OUT’ with another W to boast, he will need another opponent who is either completely lost in fantasy or his/her own smell. This will not be the case as he steps into the ring with a man who knows what ‘reality’ really feels like. Azrael’s desperate and sputtered statements in reference to his own prowess will not do when we come to blows. Within the vacuum of his and his opponent’s ignorance, perhaps his words have meaning.”
Now Jove is in the bathtub, soaking up to his chest. He looks calm and collected. In the periphery you can see Mariska leaning against the sink, brushing her hair.
“Perhaps one day there will be a fable written about my meeting with Azrael, the Angel of Death. It will be a fun tale about a proud Warrior who believed himself invincible. This warrior carried himself in the shadows so his enemies could not see his weaknesses. Many of his enemies feared the dark and were unprepared when he lept from the darkness to take them down. Yet, one day came a warrior who carried with him, a lantern. When the proud warrior found himself without the darkness to save him, he was easily defeated.”
The camera zooms in on Jove’s eyes.
“The moral being...Azrael’s weaknesses are hidden only to those who cannot bear to look.”
“Reality is relative.”
End.