-=- A deep rumble, a high whine, a loud squeal. A jet black 1996 Toyota MR-2 with full modifications, running a total of over ninety thousand dollars, screams down the street. Ever since dropping the money into the improvements, the mid-engined two-seater has become one of Nomad's favorite rides. Aside from the usual performance mods (dual turbo upgrade, stainless steel cat-back exhaust, ported and polished head, etc.), the car is sporting visual modifactions to match. A custom body kit, custom top-mount intakes, full black leather interior, and Tenzo RS-5 gunmetal rims with chrome edging, just to name a few. The windows are open, and "Do You Call My Name" by Ra is blasting over the custom BostonAcoustics car audio system. The car's aftermarket brakes clamp down on oversized rotors, bringing the MR-2 to an effortless stop in a streetside parking spot. The windows slide up, and the driver's door opens. Nomad steps out wearing black jean shorts with a black belt studded with aluminum pyramidal studs. Tucked into the shorts is a white wifebeater, and covering his feet are black 12-eye steel-toe paratrooper boots with silver grommets and silver zippers up the inside of each. His eyes are concealed behind his custom carbon fiber Oakley X-Metal shades, and his mid-length dirty blonde hair is hanging down around his face. He closes the door of his car, and presses a button on a keychain. An alarm chirp is heard as the alarm system is activated. He turns, and looks at the building he parked in front of -=-
Church of St. Catherine
-=- The white steeple rises high above the wanderer, a spire built to reach ever-closer to God. Ever closer to that which Nomad despises. Nomad grins and walks up the steps, and pauses in front of the heavy wooden doors. He reaches out and lays his hand against the warm oak. A barely visible shiver races through Nomad's body at the touch of the holy building -=-
NoMaD: Sacrifices must be made, I guess.
-=- Nomad opens the door, and steps inside. He removes his sunglasses as he takes in his surroundings. The smell of insence burns his nostrils with its acrid delicious scent. The rows of pews remind him how much he hates the order and blind obedience organized religion forces on the human race. And the enormous stained glass windows filter the light, allowing only the most offensive colors of God's love to wash over his skin. Nomad's mouth tightens into a sharp frown, and his brow furrows in disgust. Still, he looks around to find what he came here for. Finally, he sees it against the wall. The confessional booth. He walks over to it and opens the door. He steps inside, sits, and waits for a moment. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly -=-
NoMaD: Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.
-=- A brief silence passes -=-
NoMaD: It has been twenty-eight years since my last confessional.
Priest: Twenty-ei-- Why so long, my son?
NoMaD: Because I'm twenty-eight years old. And the Catholic church can eat my ass.
Priest: WHAT?!
NoMaD: That's beside the point. I've done something horrible, and I have to get it off my chest.
Priest: Um, okay. Tell me.
NoMaD: I've...I've lost sight of my goal.
Priest: That's not a sin, my son. That happens to us all from time to time. You simply have to rediscover your path.
NoMaD: I won't have a problem rediscovering my path, father. It's paved in blood.
Priest: ...
NoMaD: What I will have a problem with, is rediscovering my passion for the slaughter. I spent too much time wallowing in the Tag Team scene with that losing fuck, Chandler. ...You know, it's a good thing he lost, or else I would still be as misguided as I was when I had that gold around my waist. Now, I can get back to the mission at hand.
Priest: And...and what is that?
NoMaD: A few months back, I declared war on the New Blood of the EWA. They came in and watered down our talent pool. They killed our ratings. And worst of all, they ruined the legacy I slaved to build. So I started about ruining them.
Priest: That seems like an awful selfish and trivial reason for being so angry about it.
NoMaD: My ass it's trivial! I spent my LIFE building that legacy for myself!!! And for what?! For them to PISS on with their gimmick matches and talentless stables?! I think not. They may be the future, but they are NOT the present. I AM THE PRESENT. And until I'm gone, they will remain a mere vision of things to come. The reality is me, the reality is Nomad. Dirk Dagger, Sid Luscious, Sakyo Kyuma...they're nothing more than a whisper carried on the breeze of things yet to be.
Priest: If they are the future, why should you prevent them from claiming that mantle?
NoMaD: Are you an idiot?! BECAUSE I'M STILL HERE!!! They have the tools, but they don't have the skills to use them. Dirk Dagger may have a mean finisher, but that doesn't mean he's main event material! They need to calm down, sit back, and learn from the masters. But there's one problem.
Priest: And what is that?
NoMaD: They're unwilling to sit back and wait.
Priest: If you're the one in control now, I don't blame them.
NoMaD: I don't molest little boys, father. And until I do, I don't expect ONE FUCKING WORD from you, alright?!
Priest: There are misguided men of the cloth, yes, but that does not hold true for us all. I assure you, I--
NoMaD: Just because no one has Polaroids of you with your dick in little Billy's mouth doesn't mean you're innocent. Now shut up and listen. As I was saying, they don't want to wait. They want to take the reigns now. And I can't let that happen. I have spent my career building the EWA into what it is now. I've put all my efforts into this company. And as long as I'm still standing, I cannot let them ruin it.
Priest: I admire your devotion to your goals, my son, but your justification is flawed. And so are your goals themselves.
NoMaD: Bullshit. My justification is that they're ruining my home. My goal is to stop them from doing so. If I came back here around midnight and torched the Church of St. Catherine, wouldn't you be upset? Wouldn't you feel violated? Wouldn't you think that it wasn't my place to impose myself and my will on your home and life? I think you would. And I think at that instant, you would realize how I feel. You would empathize with my goals. Because I'm not some psychopath killing indescriminately. I'm merely defending my home. Self preservation is an instinct, father. And humans, just like all animals, are creatures of instinct.
Priest: I think you're taking that a bit far, don't you?
NoMaD: Not at all. The EWA is MINE, father. And I must destroy those commited to desecrating it. I have targeted their leader, Eric Walther. If I can remove him, then perhaps the rest will fall into line. If not, at least I'll be one step closer to my goal.
Priest: Remove him?
NoMaD: I'm fighting him in a match at "Crossroads". It's a retirement match. And I will be removing him. Because not only will he be retiring from the EWA, but he'll be throwing in the towel on breathing. You see, Mr. Walther has himself a bad neck. And I don't plan on forgetting that. Hrm. Thank you, father. I do think I've rediscovered my path. And it is most definitely the path of the righteous.
Priest: God forgive you.
NoMaD: Ha. I really don't think he will, do you?
Priest: ...
NoMaD: Right. I guess I'll be getting out of this cesspool of blind love before it burns through my skin. And father? Next time you see old Jesus Christ, tell him I'll see him in hell.
-=- Nomad stands, puts on his shades, and exits the confessional booth. He walks out of the church with a smile on his face, gets into his car, and leaves St. Catherine's in the dust -=-
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