Post by soulshadow on Sept 1, 2013 17:36:12 GMT -5
{Pitch black fills the television monitor of the viewer for so long, many are reaching for their remotes to verify their sets are still functional. Eventually, a single flame illuminates the darkness. It slides across the screen, landing on the wick of a blood-colored candle. As the match is extinguished, a hooded face enters the circle of flickering light. Slowly, it turns towards the camera, revealing the person inside to be rising MPW star Soul Shadow. His eyes are sunken in their sockets, with large bags underneath his eyes. His complexion is unusually pale, like he has just risen out of the grave. His face remains at a three-quarters portfolio as he begins to speak in an unusually raspy voice.}
Soul: This Sunday night, a shadow will fall across the entire Millennium Pro Wrestling. The MPW’s entire soul will be encompassed by its darkness. And a weak, impotent little bird will be sucked into its obsidian depths. Crow, this week on Reloaded, you will learn the darkness you claim to be bringing to the world is just a dim twilight compared the blackness I will pull you into when we… when we…
{As Soul speaks, his grim expression changes as he struggles to keep the corners of his mouth from rising into a smile. Inevitably, he utterly fails, snickering slightly as he tries to get his lines out. As he stammers, someone mercifully yells “Cut” from off-camera. On cue, the lights in the studio are activated, chasing away the gloomy darkness. The camera pulls back, revealing the set-up of an entire studio. Various stagehands flit about, attempting to return everything to their proper place for a re-shoot. Meanwhile, a young man, probably the director judging from his hipster clothes and douchy hairstyle, approaches Soul. Unsurprisingly, he talks in a British accent.}
Director: Soul, chap, what’s wrong?
Soul: I’m sorry. All this goth stuff… it ain’t me. I can’t get comfortable doing it as it’s so over-the-top.
Director: What are you talking about? Dark characters are trending worldwide! They’re what’s happening now! Horror movie-type wrestlers are a fresh new take on the genre!
{Soul brushes away the woman who is trying to touch up the face paint used to pale his skin.}
Soul: “Fresh new take?” They’ve been around since I first entered the business over a decade ago, and they certainly weren’t new then either. Their popularity may come and go, but these “scary” wrestlers are… as you would say from across the Pond… “old hat”.
Director: I don’t get what your problem is, mate. According to the notes your staff gave me, you started out as one, hence why you have the wrestling nom-de-plume “Soul Shadow”.
Soul: Yeah, I tried the goth-emo bit when I first started. After all, there was a wrestler out of Philly who was really over with my generation at the time and I sought to emulate him, thinking it would get me over quicker. I went all dark, with an “Every bright soul has a dark shadow waiting to eat them alive” line being my motto. I even dressed like I followed Alice Cooper around the country like a Deadhead.
{Soul gives a mournful sigh, as these are not particularly good recollections.}
Soul: But it wasn’t me. And because the fans knew it, I never got over doing that shtick. It wasn’t until I dropped the act and became myself in the ring that I started tasting success. I kept the old “goth” name because I was at least established by then, but the dark character was dead and buried. I’ve always been much more comfortable in my own skin than trying to change into something I’m not. The accolades I’ve earned over my career has borne that out.
{Soul gives a smile at the memories, but the director is not impressed and doesn’t even appear to have been completely listening. He slaps his lead actor on the back, still trying to convince him.}
Director: But, Soul, baby, that was a whole decade ago. Tastes change. Someone like the Crow may not have been a smash back in those days…
Soul: Are you kidding me? Given how much of a cult classic the flick had become? If anything, he would have been mad popular doing this gimmick then.
Director (completely ignoring the observation): But now his routine is absolute gold. Everyone loves being bad and evil. Being bloody Daedric is revered these days!
Soul: Really? We’re referencing Elder Scrolls now?
Director: Hey, even non-gamers knew about Skyrim when it came out. Trust me, Soul, you do this and you’ll be the biggest star in MPW overnight!
Soul (rolling his eyes): Yeah, because having a cool image is always preferable to winning in the ring.
Director: Now ya got it! About the only way to get to the top faster is to come out the closet. You aren’t...
Soul: No. Otherwise I wouldn’t have fathered a kid.
Director (with some disappointment in his voice): That’s too bad, for it is a sure-fire way to become a prime-time player. But don’t worry, being emo and goth certainly is the next best thing. Most fans suspect those guys are in the closet anyway. Mate, this can’t lose. So let’s get back to it, alright?
Soul: But…
(Unfortunately for Soul, the director ignores him and turns to address the stage crew.}
Director: Get the candles set up for the next take! And lower the lighting for atmosphere! Hopefully we can get this in one more take! Soul, I’m going to need you to… Soul? Soul?
{The director looks around as his lead actor as disappeared. He fails to notice that behind him, the exit door has just swung shut. The scene slowly focuses on it, before fading to black.}
{At a large field, several kids of various ages are playing practice soccer games under the auspices of their coaches. On the sidelines are the children’s parents, waiting to take their offspring home. Near one of the corner flags stands Soul Shadow. He has attracted the attention of a few of the mothers, and even a couple of their older high-school age daughters, who shoot a few interested glances at him when not preoccupied with their conversations and cellphones. Soul is oblivious to it, so keenly is his focus on the soccer pitch.}
{On the field, Soul’s son Hunter passes the ball to one of his scrimmage teammates. The boy, whose right ankle is heavily taped, executes a graceful turn to lose his defender and charges up the sideline, dribbling with extreme skill. One of the opposing team’s midfielders swiftly closes the distance. Noticing the other boy, Hunter’s teammate quickly sends the ball ahead to one of his forwards. However, the opposing midfielder doesn’t stop his charge, going into a slide with his studs exposed. His target has absolutely no chance, getting nailed right on the ankle. Everyone within earshot stops, their blood turned cold by his agonizing scream.}
{Several coaches and even a couple of parents rush to the fallen boy’s aid. Many of his teammates, including Hunter, go after his attacker. Before long, the entire rosters of both teams is threatening to be embroiled in a massive brawl. Fortunately, some of the more level-headed adults, aided by the commanding presence of Soul Shadow, are able to keep everyone separated before the situation can degenerate further. Once order is restore, the practices are abruptly ended and everyone begins to head home.}
{Soul walks with his son in the direction of the parking lot. Hunter looks extremely pissed, cursing at a high school level under his breath and apparently holding back angry tears. After walking a few more feet, his frustration boils over as he slams his workout bag on the grass.}
Hunter: Dammit, that kid was such an ASSHOLE!!!
{A few heads turn at the shout. Soul catches some of the disapproving glances out of the corner of his eye. He dismisses them, turning his attention solely to his son.}
Soul: Yeah, that tackle would have been insanely reckless during a normal match. I’m shocked he used it during a scrimmage.
Hunter: He knew what he was doing! Josh is our best player, but his ankle’s been hurt for a while! That jerk took him out on purpose to keep him from playing in our game against them in a couple of weeks! He cheated now so it would be easier for his team to win later!
Soul: Yeah, he did. Unfortunately, Hunter, there are some people who would do anything it takes to win, even shitty stuff like that which jeopardizes someone’s health and well-being. I’ve had some recent experience with it myself.
{Hunter pauses as while retrieving his bag.}
Hunter: You mean what Jason X did.
Soul: Yeah. He was much more interested in breaking Taufik’s knee in than winning . He was willing to risk disqualification in order to keep his opponent from making the High Stakes TV title match.
Hunter: Yeah, but you stopped him, dad.
Soul: And Jason wasn’t too happy about that.
{Soul rubs the back of his head, perhaps remembering how Jason tattooed it with the faceplate of his title belt once the match ended.}
Hunter: He’s just another asshole. You gonna go after him?
Soul: No, he’s Aeryn’s problem this week.
Hunter: I hope he doesn’t try to hurt her as well. She was really nice. I liked her a lot.
Soul: Yeah, I liked her too, kiddo.
{Hunter’s eyes widen just a little bit, though Soul never notices.}
Soul: She can take of herself, kiddo. I doubt he will try anything, though. His main concern is the Television title match at High Stakes. She isn’t in it, so he has no reason to go after her.
Hunter: I wish you were in that title match, dad. You’d teach Jason not to mess with you.
Soul (smiling): Remember, kiddo, I’ve only been in the league for two weeks. Emi and Taufik earned the shot at the pay-per-view and I have neither the right nor the desire to take that from either of them. Still, I promise you one thing, son.
Hunter: What, dad?
Soul: Just like your team when you face those dicks in a real match, I’m going to teach Jason the price for trying to sneak-attack me.
{Hunter grins widely, giving his father a sidelong hug as they approach their car. Soul returns it as the scene fades.}
{A rainy, summer day in New England. On an enclosed porch, Soul Shadow is sitting in a lounge chair, watching the drops gently fall onto a rose bush in the middle of verdant green backyard. It has captured his attention so strongly that he fails to notice his niece Shakira entering the room. She sits in an empty chair by his side, wondering when he will become aware of her arrival. Finally, she clears her throat, causing Soul’s eyes to shift in her direction. They quickly return to staring at the thorny flowers.}
Soul: Hey, Shakira.
Shakira: Hey, uncle. Getting some rest prior to your flight to Salt Lake?
Soul: Not really. I’ve been thinking about your aunt.
{Shakira looks into the rain, just now realizing where her uncle is staring.}
Shakira: Ah, the rosebush we all planted in her memory after her passing.
Soul: Yeah, my match this Sunday has made me nostalgic. She’s always in the back of my mind, but even more these days given who my opponent is.
Shakira: Crow? He’s an extra creepy dude. I can see why you would think about her. He is extremely scary, having a fascination with death as he does.
Soul (waving his hand dismissively): It’s not that. Every single federation I’ve ever joined had at least one of these emo dudes wrestling in it. Hiring amateur special effect artists to pull parlor tricks designed to scare the shit out of normal fans and give the horror marks chubbies. That may freak out green rookies, but not jaded veterans like myself.
Shakira: I dunno know if he used special effects on that girl he killed a few weeks ago…
{Soul gives his niece a patronizing smile. She scowls in response.}
Shakira: Don’t make fun of me! That totally freaked me out!
Soul: Your gullibility is cute, Shakira. No wonder so many guys are chasing you.
{Shakira turns red as she sticks her tongue out at her uncle. He chuckles for a moment before returning to his more serious mood.}
Soul: Regardless, it isn’t because of his fascination with death, though I will admit that plays a small part in it. The reason is, like me, Crow has had to deal with the loss of his wife.
Shakira: That’s right, he has mentioned before his wife and unborn child was brutally killed. How tragic.
Soul: Yeah, it sure is. In a way, I can relate to him. Granted, my loss wasn’t as swift as his was, though I don’t know if that is better or not. Sometimes I think I would have preferred her to pass on suddenly than to have gone through the agony of watching her waste away as the cancer ate at her body. My memories of her are always colored by that excruciating experience. And at least he has a physical target, their killer, at which to rage and perhaps get revenge. Who can I rage against? I’m not exactly religious, so it’s not like I have any god at whom to focus my anger. Once she died, I had absolutely no one to blame.
{Soul falls silent, reflecting on events he hadn’t really dwelled on for years. Shakira places her hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.}
Shakira: So you two are pretty similar.
Soul (angry): No, actually we couldn’t be more different.
{Shakira looks a little puzzled by his reaction.}
Soul: There is no one on this planet who hasn’t had to deal with tragedy at some point in their existence. When it happens, we are left with two choices. We can dwell on it, letting the pain overwhelm us and essentially becoming our entire life. Or we can choose to push forward, accept what has happened, move on, and just keep living. That key point is where we diverge.
{Soul leans forward in his chair, getting more fired up by the moment.}
Soul: Rather than move on from his loss, Crow has found himself stuck in misery. He doesn’t want to live. Instead, he seems to be craving the opportunity to join his wife in the grave. Rather than physically end his own life and do the world a giant favor, he’d rather go out and try to make everyone as miserable as he is. He, like the rest of his “Damned” friends, claims it is because they found beauty in death and want to share it with the world. In reality, he is nothing more than a whiny bastard who wants to bring everybody down. It would be tragic if he kept to himself. Once he refused to move on and started involving other people, he turned into a disturbing annoyance.
{Ironically, the rain stops outside as Soul continues to talk.}
Soul: Me, I decided to press forward. True, having Hunter to take care of helped force my path. Even if he wasn’t in my life, though, I would have done the exact same thing. Not accepting my wife’s death would have been the same as dying myself. She never would have wanted that. She would have wanted me to continue to every single day of my life to the absolute fullest, and I plan on doing that till the end of my days.
{Soul stands from his chair and approaches the window, his eyes never leaving the rosebush.}
Soul: That’s why on Sunday, I’m not going to lose. Crow, for all his tricks and showmanship, is nothing more than a miserable human being trying to force every single person he meets into joining his manic depression. He wants us all to become mired in his own personal hell. I’ve already lived his darkness and I pulled myself into the light. I left it far behind and nothing… NOTHING… will be able to bring me back. Let him do his worst. He can’t do anything to me which I haven’t already soundly defeated many times over.
Shakira: Auntie would have been proud.
Soul: Of course she would, kid. She was the one who taught me how live. And I won’t dishonor her memory by doing anything less.
{Soul smiles, looking at the rosebush as the sun begins to part the clouds. The camera slowly zooms on the crimson flowers, almost glowing in the bright light. The scene then slowly fades.}
Soul: This Sunday night, a shadow will fall across the entire Millennium Pro Wrestling. The MPW’s entire soul will be encompassed by its darkness. And a weak, impotent little bird will be sucked into its obsidian depths. Crow, this week on Reloaded, you will learn the darkness you claim to be bringing to the world is just a dim twilight compared the blackness I will pull you into when we… when we…
{As Soul speaks, his grim expression changes as he struggles to keep the corners of his mouth from rising into a smile. Inevitably, he utterly fails, snickering slightly as he tries to get his lines out. As he stammers, someone mercifully yells “Cut” from off-camera. On cue, the lights in the studio are activated, chasing away the gloomy darkness. The camera pulls back, revealing the set-up of an entire studio. Various stagehands flit about, attempting to return everything to their proper place for a re-shoot. Meanwhile, a young man, probably the director judging from his hipster clothes and douchy hairstyle, approaches Soul. Unsurprisingly, he talks in a British accent.}
Director: Soul, chap, what’s wrong?
Soul: I’m sorry. All this goth stuff… it ain’t me. I can’t get comfortable doing it as it’s so over-the-top.
Director: What are you talking about? Dark characters are trending worldwide! They’re what’s happening now! Horror movie-type wrestlers are a fresh new take on the genre!
{Soul brushes away the woman who is trying to touch up the face paint used to pale his skin.}
Soul: “Fresh new take?” They’ve been around since I first entered the business over a decade ago, and they certainly weren’t new then either. Their popularity may come and go, but these “scary” wrestlers are… as you would say from across the Pond… “old hat”.
Director: I don’t get what your problem is, mate. According to the notes your staff gave me, you started out as one, hence why you have the wrestling nom-de-plume “Soul Shadow”.
Soul: Yeah, I tried the goth-emo bit when I first started. After all, there was a wrestler out of Philly who was really over with my generation at the time and I sought to emulate him, thinking it would get me over quicker. I went all dark, with an “Every bright soul has a dark shadow waiting to eat them alive” line being my motto. I even dressed like I followed Alice Cooper around the country like a Deadhead.
{Soul gives a mournful sigh, as these are not particularly good recollections.}
Soul: But it wasn’t me. And because the fans knew it, I never got over doing that shtick. It wasn’t until I dropped the act and became myself in the ring that I started tasting success. I kept the old “goth” name because I was at least established by then, but the dark character was dead and buried. I’ve always been much more comfortable in my own skin than trying to change into something I’m not. The accolades I’ve earned over my career has borne that out.
{Soul gives a smile at the memories, but the director is not impressed and doesn’t even appear to have been completely listening. He slaps his lead actor on the back, still trying to convince him.}
Director: But, Soul, baby, that was a whole decade ago. Tastes change. Someone like the Crow may not have been a smash back in those days…
Soul: Are you kidding me? Given how much of a cult classic the flick had become? If anything, he would have been mad popular doing this gimmick then.
Director (completely ignoring the observation): But now his routine is absolute gold. Everyone loves being bad and evil. Being bloody Daedric is revered these days!
Soul: Really? We’re referencing Elder Scrolls now?
Director: Hey, even non-gamers knew about Skyrim when it came out. Trust me, Soul, you do this and you’ll be the biggest star in MPW overnight!
Soul (rolling his eyes): Yeah, because having a cool image is always preferable to winning in the ring.
Director: Now ya got it! About the only way to get to the top faster is to come out the closet. You aren’t...
Soul: No. Otherwise I wouldn’t have fathered a kid.
Director (with some disappointment in his voice): That’s too bad, for it is a sure-fire way to become a prime-time player. But don’t worry, being emo and goth certainly is the next best thing. Most fans suspect those guys are in the closet anyway. Mate, this can’t lose. So let’s get back to it, alright?
Soul: But…
(Unfortunately for Soul, the director ignores him and turns to address the stage crew.}
Director: Get the candles set up for the next take! And lower the lighting for atmosphere! Hopefully we can get this in one more take! Soul, I’m going to need you to… Soul? Soul?
{The director looks around as his lead actor as disappeared. He fails to notice that behind him, the exit door has just swung shut. The scene slowly focuses on it, before fading to black.}
{At a large field, several kids of various ages are playing practice soccer games under the auspices of their coaches. On the sidelines are the children’s parents, waiting to take their offspring home. Near one of the corner flags stands Soul Shadow. He has attracted the attention of a few of the mothers, and even a couple of their older high-school age daughters, who shoot a few interested glances at him when not preoccupied with their conversations and cellphones. Soul is oblivious to it, so keenly is his focus on the soccer pitch.}
{On the field, Soul’s son Hunter passes the ball to one of his scrimmage teammates. The boy, whose right ankle is heavily taped, executes a graceful turn to lose his defender and charges up the sideline, dribbling with extreme skill. One of the opposing team’s midfielders swiftly closes the distance. Noticing the other boy, Hunter’s teammate quickly sends the ball ahead to one of his forwards. However, the opposing midfielder doesn’t stop his charge, going into a slide with his studs exposed. His target has absolutely no chance, getting nailed right on the ankle. Everyone within earshot stops, their blood turned cold by his agonizing scream.}
{Several coaches and even a couple of parents rush to the fallen boy’s aid. Many of his teammates, including Hunter, go after his attacker. Before long, the entire rosters of both teams is threatening to be embroiled in a massive brawl. Fortunately, some of the more level-headed adults, aided by the commanding presence of Soul Shadow, are able to keep everyone separated before the situation can degenerate further. Once order is restore, the practices are abruptly ended and everyone begins to head home.}
{Soul walks with his son in the direction of the parking lot. Hunter looks extremely pissed, cursing at a high school level under his breath and apparently holding back angry tears. After walking a few more feet, his frustration boils over as he slams his workout bag on the grass.}
Hunter: Dammit, that kid was such an ASSHOLE!!!
{A few heads turn at the shout. Soul catches some of the disapproving glances out of the corner of his eye. He dismisses them, turning his attention solely to his son.}
Soul: Yeah, that tackle would have been insanely reckless during a normal match. I’m shocked he used it during a scrimmage.
Hunter: He knew what he was doing! Josh is our best player, but his ankle’s been hurt for a while! That jerk took him out on purpose to keep him from playing in our game against them in a couple of weeks! He cheated now so it would be easier for his team to win later!
Soul: Yeah, he did. Unfortunately, Hunter, there are some people who would do anything it takes to win, even shitty stuff like that which jeopardizes someone’s health and well-being. I’ve had some recent experience with it myself.
{Hunter pauses as while retrieving his bag.}
Hunter: You mean what Jason X did.
Soul: Yeah. He was much more interested in breaking Taufik’s knee in than winning . He was willing to risk disqualification in order to keep his opponent from making the High Stakes TV title match.
Hunter: Yeah, but you stopped him, dad.
Soul: And Jason wasn’t too happy about that.
{Soul rubs the back of his head, perhaps remembering how Jason tattooed it with the faceplate of his title belt once the match ended.}
Hunter: He’s just another asshole. You gonna go after him?
Soul: No, he’s Aeryn’s problem this week.
Hunter: I hope he doesn’t try to hurt her as well. She was really nice. I liked her a lot.
Soul: Yeah, I liked her too, kiddo.
{Hunter’s eyes widen just a little bit, though Soul never notices.}
Soul: She can take of herself, kiddo. I doubt he will try anything, though. His main concern is the Television title match at High Stakes. She isn’t in it, so he has no reason to go after her.
Hunter: I wish you were in that title match, dad. You’d teach Jason not to mess with you.
Soul (smiling): Remember, kiddo, I’ve only been in the league for two weeks. Emi and Taufik earned the shot at the pay-per-view and I have neither the right nor the desire to take that from either of them. Still, I promise you one thing, son.
Hunter: What, dad?
Soul: Just like your team when you face those dicks in a real match, I’m going to teach Jason the price for trying to sneak-attack me.
{Hunter grins widely, giving his father a sidelong hug as they approach their car. Soul returns it as the scene fades.}
{A rainy, summer day in New England. On an enclosed porch, Soul Shadow is sitting in a lounge chair, watching the drops gently fall onto a rose bush in the middle of verdant green backyard. It has captured his attention so strongly that he fails to notice his niece Shakira entering the room. She sits in an empty chair by his side, wondering when he will become aware of her arrival. Finally, she clears her throat, causing Soul’s eyes to shift in her direction. They quickly return to staring at the thorny flowers.}
Soul: Hey, Shakira.
Shakira: Hey, uncle. Getting some rest prior to your flight to Salt Lake?
Soul: Not really. I’ve been thinking about your aunt.
{Shakira looks into the rain, just now realizing where her uncle is staring.}
Shakira: Ah, the rosebush we all planted in her memory after her passing.
Soul: Yeah, my match this Sunday has made me nostalgic. She’s always in the back of my mind, but even more these days given who my opponent is.
Shakira: Crow? He’s an extra creepy dude. I can see why you would think about her. He is extremely scary, having a fascination with death as he does.
Soul (waving his hand dismissively): It’s not that. Every single federation I’ve ever joined had at least one of these emo dudes wrestling in it. Hiring amateur special effect artists to pull parlor tricks designed to scare the shit out of normal fans and give the horror marks chubbies. That may freak out green rookies, but not jaded veterans like myself.
Shakira: I dunno know if he used special effects on that girl he killed a few weeks ago…
{Soul gives his niece a patronizing smile. She scowls in response.}
Shakira: Don’t make fun of me! That totally freaked me out!
Soul: Your gullibility is cute, Shakira. No wonder so many guys are chasing you.
{Shakira turns red as she sticks her tongue out at her uncle. He chuckles for a moment before returning to his more serious mood.}
Soul: Regardless, it isn’t because of his fascination with death, though I will admit that plays a small part in it. The reason is, like me, Crow has had to deal with the loss of his wife.
Shakira: That’s right, he has mentioned before his wife and unborn child was brutally killed. How tragic.
Soul: Yeah, it sure is. In a way, I can relate to him. Granted, my loss wasn’t as swift as his was, though I don’t know if that is better or not. Sometimes I think I would have preferred her to pass on suddenly than to have gone through the agony of watching her waste away as the cancer ate at her body. My memories of her are always colored by that excruciating experience. And at least he has a physical target, their killer, at which to rage and perhaps get revenge. Who can I rage against? I’m not exactly religious, so it’s not like I have any god at whom to focus my anger. Once she died, I had absolutely no one to blame.
{Soul falls silent, reflecting on events he hadn’t really dwelled on for years. Shakira places her hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.}
Shakira: So you two are pretty similar.
Soul (angry): No, actually we couldn’t be more different.
{Shakira looks a little puzzled by his reaction.}
Soul: There is no one on this planet who hasn’t had to deal with tragedy at some point in their existence. When it happens, we are left with two choices. We can dwell on it, letting the pain overwhelm us and essentially becoming our entire life. Or we can choose to push forward, accept what has happened, move on, and just keep living. That key point is where we diverge.
{Soul leans forward in his chair, getting more fired up by the moment.}
Soul: Rather than move on from his loss, Crow has found himself stuck in misery. He doesn’t want to live. Instead, he seems to be craving the opportunity to join his wife in the grave. Rather than physically end his own life and do the world a giant favor, he’d rather go out and try to make everyone as miserable as he is. He, like the rest of his “Damned” friends, claims it is because they found beauty in death and want to share it with the world. In reality, he is nothing more than a whiny bastard who wants to bring everybody down. It would be tragic if he kept to himself. Once he refused to move on and started involving other people, he turned into a disturbing annoyance.
{Ironically, the rain stops outside as Soul continues to talk.}
Soul: Me, I decided to press forward. True, having Hunter to take care of helped force my path. Even if he wasn’t in my life, though, I would have done the exact same thing. Not accepting my wife’s death would have been the same as dying myself. She never would have wanted that. She would have wanted me to continue to every single day of my life to the absolute fullest, and I plan on doing that till the end of my days.
{Soul stands from his chair and approaches the window, his eyes never leaving the rosebush.}
Soul: That’s why on Sunday, I’m not going to lose. Crow, for all his tricks and showmanship, is nothing more than a miserable human being trying to force every single person he meets into joining his manic depression. He wants us all to become mired in his own personal hell. I’ve already lived his darkness and I pulled myself into the light. I left it far behind and nothing… NOTHING… will be able to bring me back. Let him do his worst. He can’t do anything to me which I haven’t already soundly defeated many times over.
Shakira: Auntie would have been proud.
Soul: Of course she would, kid. She was the one who taught me how live. And I won’t dishonor her memory by doing anything less.
{Soul smiles, looking at the rosebush as the sun begins to part the clouds. The camera slowly zooms on the crimson flowers, almost glowing in the bright light. The scene then slowly fades.}
