Post by Grimm on Nov 21, 2014 12:28:29 GMT -5
You’d think it was the incident in the Garden, but you’d be wrong. That little glitch took even us by surprise. No, it was actually on a plain in the land of Shinar. On a morning when the sun turned the horizon a shade of red previously seen only on the end of a spear. The people on the earth were migrating from the east, and at that time shared one language. A man since claimed by the desert spoke up when they stopped for breakfast.
“We should build a city here. Yes, a city…and in the middle we should construct a tower that reaches into the heavens. In this way we can make a name for ourselves and be renowned throughout all the land.”
Isn’t that all anyone really wants? How else would you explain the Deadly Rumble?
So they fired clay to make bricks and mined bitumen for the mortar. The giants and the Nephilim did all the heavy lifting. As the tower took shape the people congratulated themselves. This would serve as a monument unto their very existence. Goodness knows they deserved it, or so everyone said.
Meanwhile I AM watched, and sighed (wiping out an entire forest on the other side of the world). “This is only the beginning of what they will do. If they’re successful with this, nothing will be impossible for them.”
He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne. And he pondered. The six-winged seraph flew to a higher perch. The cherubim averted their multitudes of sleepless eyes. The Heavenly Host knew to give themselves a buffer when I AM grew dismayed. He stood and cracked the cosmic enormities that represented his knuckles.
“Let us go down and confuse them and their speech.” And just like that, I AM descended and made the one tongue into many and the people became frustrated with the babbling. He scattered them abroad over the face of the earth, as if scattering handfuls of seed over the fields.
The man, the Black-Hand-before-it-knew-it-was-the-Black-Hand, smiled and went on his way.
He had been pleasantly surprised to find how easy it was to manipulate, to guide, an entire nation. He’d done it on nothing more than a lark, but immediately realized what a little nudge here and there could do. Back on track or off the rails. Order into chaos, or chaos into order – it was all just a matter of perception
The Black Hand’s influence weaved in and out of the annals of history. Its actions suited the whims and interests of the members at the time. No matter what those were, it was almost always with little regard for the well-being of others. Collateral damage, as they called it.
Grimm did not know much about what happened to his co-workers outside the limits of the arena. The struggles, the excruciating day-to-day minutia, their joys and sorrows – he did not take much interest in it, but he also knew better than to believe it didn’t influence their performances and thus match outcomes. One day it’s an advantage, the next it took you so far off your game you might as well not even show up. The Lord of Misrule couldn’t control it, so why the concern?
But there were things they could control. Seemingly minor, incongruous events that built upon each other, layer by layer, until the inevitable dropped into their laps. Nathan Saniti had his Russian mystics, his bunny rabbits, his hat. Did he ever stop to think how any of this came to be? Or how and why he arrived in PCW when he did, just when Kelli Starr was there to sashay into his life? Some would claim Saniti fought for the International title due to his hard work and, perhaps, the allure of his persona. Some should stop and question just why that title was up for grabs at this pay per view, just when the front office felt Saniti was finally due his shot. Saniti was odd, yes. He had interdimensional sorcery at his beck and call. That being said, you would be suffering from a strong case of naïveté if you thought nothing more than a series of chance events had resulted in this.
The greatest chess players see numerous moves ahead. And that’s just for a game. Deadly Intentions V and everything coming after would be so much more than that.
~~~
The remnant of the tower to the heavens still stands, but no one can seem to offer proper directions to its location.
“We should build a city here. Yes, a city…and in the middle we should construct a tower that reaches into the heavens. In this way we can make a name for ourselves and be renowned throughout all the land.”
Isn’t that all anyone really wants? How else would you explain the Deadly Rumble?
So they fired clay to make bricks and mined bitumen for the mortar. The giants and the Nephilim did all the heavy lifting. As the tower took shape the people congratulated themselves. This would serve as a monument unto their very existence. Goodness knows they deserved it, or so everyone said.
Meanwhile I AM watched, and sighed (wiping out an entire forest on the other side of the world). “This is only the beginning of what they will do. If they’re successful with this, nothing will be impossible for them.”
He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne. And he pondered. The six-winged seraph flew to a higher perch. The cherubim averted their multitudes of sleepless eyes. The Heavenly Host knew to give themselves a buffer when I AM grew dismayed. He stood and cracked the cosmic enormities that represented his knuckles.
“Let us go down and confuse them and their speech.” And just like that, I AM descended and made the one tongue into many and the people became frustrated with the babbling. He scattered them abroad over the face of the earth, as if scattering handfuls of seed over the fields.
The man, the Black-Hand-before-it-knew-it-was-the-Black-Hand, smiled and went on his way.
He had been pleasantly surprised to find how easy it was to manipulate, to guide, an entire nation. He’d done it on nothing more than a lark, but immediately realized what a little nudge here and there could do. Back on track or off the rails. Order into chaos, or chaos into order – it was all just a matter of perception
The Black Hand’s influence weaved in and out of the annals of history. Its actions suited the whims and interests of the members at the time. No matter what those were, it was almost always with little regard for the well-being of others. Collateral damage, as they called it.
Grimm did not know much about what happened to his co-workers outside the limits of the arena. The struggles, the excruciating day-to-day minutia, their joys and sorrows – he did not take much interest in it, but he also knew better than to believe it didn’t influence their performances and thus match outcomes. One day it’s an advantage, the next it took you so far off your game you might as well not even show up. The Lord of Misrule couldn’t control it, so why the concern?
But there were things they could control. Seemingly minor, incongruous events that built upon each other, layer by layer, until the inevitable dropped into their laps. Nathan Saniti had his Russian mystics, his bunny rabbits, his hat. Did he ever stop to think how any of this came to be? Or how and why he arrived in PCW when he did, just when Kelli Starr was there to sashay into his life? Some would claim Saniti fought for the International title due to his hard work and, perhaps, the allure of his persona. Some should stop and question just why that title was up for grabs at this pay per view, just when the front office felt Saniti was finally due his shot. Saniti was odd, yes. He had interdimensional sorcery at his beck and call. That being said, you would be suffering from a strong case of naïveté if you thought nothing more than a series of chance events had resulted in this.
The greatest chess players see numerous moves ahead. And that’s just for a game. Deadly Intentions V and everything coming after would be so much more than that.
~~~
The remnant of the tower to the heavens still stands, but no one can seem to offer proper directions to its location.