Post by cyriddle on Aug 12, 2023 21:10:47 GMT -5
“Materialism is an identity crises.”
The husky English accent of Cyrus Riddle is heard before he is seen. Following his statement, an instant illumination occurs, greeting us to an empty factory. Various conveyor systems are halted, with each carrying an array of doll parts such as arms, legs, torsos, and heads. However, each of these systems seems to have been abandoned. Upon further inspection, the steel frames told of their age via rust, and underneath a few conveyors the belts are snapped. Furthermore, the floor had seen grander times. With an eerie silence and an untouched, instant abandon aesthetic being offered, Cy’s step into frame seemed like a welcome entrance.
Quite fitting to the aura of the room, his all black ensemble which included his black flannel with “Above the Influence” embroidered on the pocket, began to give the vibe of a modern day Tim Burton set.
“Dost thou comprehend, Amber? Like I’ve said from the very start… substance… that’s the key to everything we are, everything we do, and everything we cherish. Autonomy, separating from the pack. If you are not delivering something different, you are not delivering any value.”
Riddle holds his arms out and looks around, motioning for the quick survey of the main floor of the factory.
“Instead, you attempt to flourish in conditions like this. Manufactured copies, every so often you get a modicum of diversity, and then we keep pushing the same product out one after the other. The dolls of the industry… refined aesthetics down to the very detail of the eyelash, and the same personality carbon copied throughout. It’s like Cult of Chucky, but with uptight, shallow bitches.”
Riddle casually walks over to one of the belts where multiple doll heads are identically placed one after the other. This particular batch has yet to be cosmetically cared for. But in a strange occurrence, the picture begins to static and the echo of a little girl giggling reverberates through the factory. Riddle looks around inquisitively, yet unbothered, before shaking his head.
“Imagine the lack of innovation and creativity that it takes. Mass production on bare minimum effort to expect lucrative returns on stereotypical beauty traits. It’s that false hope of glamor that led me to do what I did to you. That’s exactly the reason why I ruined your hair and face. I wanted you to see another side, a darker side.”
The picture cuts quickly, with the image of a little girl giggling inches away from the screen, with all white makeup on her face and heavy black around the eyes. Without so much as an indication of knowing, Riddle continues to speak as the picture corrects itself.
“And you are welcome for that. Because I can already sense an added intensity to you. I can feel that you will bring the version of yourself I require for a match of this marquee value. Do you understand now? I did this for you. To improve you, to better you, because you truly have no idea who you are, and I am forcing introspection.”
“Amber, everything about you is found in a bottle, on a box, or while scrolling through social media. You look to influence, but your influence requires a subpar self image and lack of self-awareness. We’ve already seen what you do in the face of impending defeat, and now we can see what you do when there are no ways out. Let’s see what influence you can have on a generation of people that watch your televised downfall. Another layer is about to be revealed for you.”
“This match is not just a test of conviction between the two of us. It is not simply the light versus dark as it once was. No, it is now a matter of material versus immaterial. When my bulletproof ideals collide with your flawed sense of tangibles that do nothing except expose your every vulnerability.”
The lights begin to flicker in the factory. In between the dark and light, we see the little girl appear in front of Cy, with both staring ahead with an heir of malicious intent twinkling in their eyes. The little girl is holding a fully constructed doll, complete with full cosmetic overlay, blonde hair, and pouty lips. It’s as close to Amber Mansley in appearance as attainable, and even has the plastic sheen she possesses. The lights go out for a few seconds, then back on again. This time Cy is holding the head of the doll up inside of his palm and staring at it as if he were about to recite Hamlet, whilst the little girl begins swaying the headless doll’s body side to side, with red liquid around the detach point where the head usually sits.
“It takes minimal effort and time to create the image you portray, and just as fast to watch it all become desecrated. As for me? That’s eighteen years of blood, sweat, tears, tragedy, triumph, personal loss and gain, and professional revitalization. That’s the dividing line between us that can never put us on equal footing. No matter how much persuasion you attempt, there’s no plane of existence that sees you superior than I am. There’s not one person out here who looks at you and thinks there’s a true chance.”
“Throughout the years, great men and women have fallen victim to their own hubris in an effort to cling on to their relevancy, and they have fallen because they forgot to remain with substance and idealism. The second you covet ‘things’ is the second you detach yourself from true self awareness.”
Riddle nonchalantly tosses the head off of his fingertips, and the little girl catches it, sticking it back on the doll before skipping around in a circle.
“Can you find yourself before the bell rings? I doubt it. But I promise you will find yourself during this match. I will test everything you stand for, everything you say, and everything you think you are prepared to endure. I will push beyond limits, bring the glass house down around you, and revel in your humiliation. And to think, all of this from a simple matter of you refusing to lose with dignity. Now, you learn that escalation is a concept you are not equipped to handle.”
====================================
“Are you feeling okay, love? You’ve barely said a word outside of work since the other night?”
Kim looked to Cy with care and concern. It had been three nights removed since he had wandered into the forest to seek out the illuminators of the red glow that Kim had seen him summon via drawing blood from the scar inside of his palm. All she was told beforehand was that it pertained to Izzy and the pictures she drew of her dream Forest Goddesses. However, clarity was not given on the matter.
Cy nodded, half focused on the concern of his wife, and half uninterested in divulging anything just yet.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a lot to absorb is all.”
This response wasn’t as acceptable as he would hope it would be. They sat in the locker room in silence for minutes on end, with Cy facing forward in what could easily be interpreted as mental focus to anyone unknowing of the situation in Colorado. Izzy sat a short distance away with her headphones on, and drawing.
“You know I need to make sure that you are headstrong for this weekend. I have a huge title match, and you have to shut that prissy Princess up. Are you ready for that?”
“Of course I am.”
He responded with quickness, feeling as though the match with Amber was the farthest concern from his mind. But perhaps that was an issue it itself. He was notorious in being his own worst enemy from time to time, and being mentally entangled by outside forces would lead to certain disruption in his successful ventures. He went to speak, but halted himself briefly to collect the proper follow up.
“I understand you are concerned, and I love you for that. But, I am in no way distracted to the point of letting it interfere in my own match. I can handle this, and nothing will stop me from doing what’s necessary.”
Kim looked somewhat doubtful, but relented as she began to do her routine stretches. Cy, on the other hand, maintained his sight on the wall ahead of him, with thought after thought circulating. After a faint glimpse, he found himself fixed on the pencil drawing of Izzy. Leaning forward, he tapped her on the shoulder.
“What’s that?”
“It’s your meeting.” She said with the most innocent of tones.
“Meeting?”
Cy questioned it simply to see if she would elaborate further. By now, Kim had paused her own routine and watched the two interact.
“Yeah, the one you had the other night. They said they showed you the destiny.”
Cy’s heart began to beat into his throat, forcing him to turn his head to the side as he gulped, to which Kim’s eyes widened as she had never seen him in such a disoriented state of being. She held her hand up to him to give him a second to compose himself as she leaned down to Izzy herself.
“And what destiny is that, honey?”
Kim asked sweetly, but Izzy just shook her head.
“It’s not for me to know, only daddy.”
Kim looked back at Cy, who looked at her and then put his head down. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
Kim then glanced back and Izzy and picked up her drawing. The depiction weighed on her eyes and in her heart instantly, as she glanced down to see four figures standing over a prone Cyrus, who Izzy drew with black eyes, void of all expression.
The husky English accent of Cyrus Riddle is heard before he is seen. Following his statement, an instant illumination occurs, greeting us to an empty factory. Various conveyor systems are halted, with each carrying an array of doll parts such as arms, legs, torsos, and heads. However, each of these systems seems to have been abandoned. Upon further inspection, the steel frames told of their age via rust, and underneath a few conveyors the belts are snapped. Furthermore, the floor had seen grander times. With an eerie silence and an untouched, instant abandon aesthetic being offered, Cy’s step into frame seemed like a welcome entrance.
Quite fitting to the aura of the room, his all black ensemble which included his black flannel with “Above the Influence” embroidered on the pocket, began to give the vibe of a modern day Tim Burton set.
“Dost thou comprehend, Amber? Like I’ve said from the very start… substance… that’s the key to everything we are, everything we do, and everything we cherish. Autonomy, separating from the pack. If you are not delivering something different, you are not delivering any value.”
Riddle holds his arms out and looks around, motioning for the quick survey of the main floor of the factory.
“Instead, you attempt to flourish in conditions like this. Manufactured copies, every so often you get a modicum of diversity, and then we keep pushing the same product out one after the other. The dolls of the industry… refined aesthetics down to the very detail of the eyelash, and the same personality carbon copied throughout. It’s like Cult of Chucky, but with uptight, shallow bitches.”
Riddle casually walks over to one of the belts where multiple doll heads are identically placed one after the other. This particular batch has yet to be cosmetically cared for. But in a strange occurrence, the picture begins to static and the echo of a little girl giggling reverberates through the factory. Riddle looks around inquisitively, yet unbothered, before shaking his head.
“Imagine the lack of innovation and creativity that it takes. Mass production on bare minimum effort to expect lucrative returns on stereotypical beauty traits. It’s that false hope of glamor that led me to do what I did to you. That’s exactly the reason why I ruined your hair and face. I wanted you to see another side, a darker side.”
The picture cuts quickly, with the image of a little girl giggling inches away from the screen, with all white makeup on her face and heavy black around the eyes. Without so much as an indication of knowing, Riddle continues to speak as the picture corrects itself.
“And you are welcome for that. Because I can already sense an added intensity to you. I can feel that you will bring the version of yourself I require for a match of this marquee value. Do you understand now? I did this for you. To improve you, to better you, because you truly have no idea who you are, and I am forcing introspection.”
“Amber, everything about you is found in a bottle, on a box, or while scrolling through social media. You look to influence, but your influence requires a subpar self image and lack of self-awareness. We’ve already seen what you do in the face of impending defeat, and now we can see what you do when there are no ways out. Let’s see what influence you can have on a generation of people that watch your televised downfall. Another layer is about to be revealed for you.”
“This match is not just a test of conviction between the two of us. It is not simply the light versus dark as it once was. No, it is now a matter of material versus immaterial. When my bulletproof ideals collide with your flawed sense of tangibles that do nothing except expose your every vulnerability.”
The lights begin to flicker in the factory. In between the dark and light, we see the little girl appear in front of Cy, with both staring ahead with an heir of malicious intent twinkling in their eyes. The little girl is holding a fully constructed doll, complete with full cosmetic overlay, blonde hair, and pouty lips. It’s as close to Amber Mansley in appearance as attainable, and even has the plastic sheen she possesses. The lights go out for a few seconds, then back on again. This time Cy is holding the head of the doll up inside of his palm and staring at it as if he were about to recite Hamlet, whilst the little girl begins swaying the headless doll’s body side to side, with red liquid around the detach point where the head usually sits.
“It takes minimal effort and time to create the image you portray, and just as fast to watch it all become desecrated. As for me? That’s eighteen years of blood, sweat, tears, tragedy, triumph, personal loss and gain, and professional revitalization. That’s the dividing line between us that can never put us on equal footing. No matter how much persuasion you attempt, there’s no plane of existence that sees you superior than I am. There’s not one person out here who looks at you and thinks there’s a true chance.”
“Throughout the years, great men and women have fallen victim to their own hubris in an effort to cling on to their relevancy, and they have fallen because they forgot to remain with substance and idealism. The second you covet ‘things’ is the second you detach yourself from true self awareness.”
Riddle nonchalantly tosses the head off of his fingertips, and the little girl catches it, sticking it back on the doll before skipping around in a circle.
“Can you find yourself before the bell rings? I doubt it. But I promise you will find yourself during this match. I will test everything you stand for, everything you say, and everything you think you are prepared to endure. I will push beyond limits, bring the glass house down around you, and revel in your humiliation. And to think, all of this from a simple matter of you refusing to lose with dignity. Now, you learn that escalation is a concept you are not equipped to handle.”
====================================
“Are you feeling okay, love? You’ve barely said a word outside of work since the other night?”
Kim looked to Cy with care and concern. It had been three nights removed since he had wandered into the forest to seek out the illuminators of the red glow that Kim had seen him summon via drawing blood from the scar inside of his palm. All she was told beforehand was that it pertained to Izzy and the pictures she drew of her dream Forest Goddesses. However, clarity was not given on the matter.
Cy nodded, half focused on the concern of his wife, and half uninterested in divulging anything just yet.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a lot to absorb is all.”
This response wasn’t as acceptable as he would hope it would be. They sat in the locker room in silence for minutes on end, with Cy facing forward in what could easily be interpreted as mental focus to anyone unknowing of the situation in Colorado. Izzy sat a short distance away with her headphones on, and drawing.
“You know I need to make sure that you are headstrong for this weekend. I have a huge title match, and you have to shut that prissy Princess up. Are you ready for that?”
“Of course I am.”
He responded with quickness, feeling as though the match with Amber was the farthest concern from his mind. But perhaps that was an issue it itself. He was notorious in being his own worst enemy from time to time, and being mentally entangled by outside forces would lead to certain disruption in his successful ventures. He went to speak, but halted himself briefly to collect the proper follow up.
“I understand you are concerned, and I love you for that. But, I am in no way distracted to the point of letting it interfere in my own match. I can handle this, and nothing will stop me from doing what’s necessary.”
Kim looked somewhat doubtful, but relented as she began to do her routine stretches. Cy, on the other hand, maintained his sight on the wall ahead of him, with thought after thought circulating. After a faint glimpse, he found himself fixed on the pencil drawing of Izzy. Leaning forward, he tapped her on the shoulder.
“What’s that?”
“It’s your meeting.” She said with the most innocent of tones.
“Meeting?”
Cy questioned it simply to see if she would elaborate further. By now, Kim had paused her own routine and watched the two interact.
“Yeah, the one you had the other night. They said they showed you the destiny.”
Cy’s heart began to beat into his throat, forcing him to turn his head to the side as he gulped, to which Kim’s eyes widened as she had never seen him in such a disoriented state of being. She held her hand up to him to give him a second to compose himself as she leaned down to Izzy herself.
“And what destiny is that, honey?”
Kim asked sweetly, but Izzy just shook her head.
“It’s not for me to know, only daddy.”
Kim looked back at Cy, who looked at her and then put his head down. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
Kim then glanced back and Izzy and picked up her drawing. The depiction weighed on her eyes and in her heart instantly, as she glanced down to see four figures standing over a prone Cyrus, who Izzy drew with black eyes, void of all expression.