The echo threw itself upon the rings of the world, the terror drawing upon it a breath of fear, that breath which makes men quiver in trepidation and throw themselves upon the mercy of their God. 'Men so terrifying God himself cannot stand them,' rang the echo into the air. 'If only these men did so exists...'Tyler Evans, from nowhere, emerged from the abyss of death with a smile upon his face, his black hair throwing itself down his side without knowledge or caring of what it did or in what direction it swayed gently in the wind. The black cargo pants and the red muscle shirt adorned his body like gold as the sun crashed down upon his face, giving off an aura of sweet, crystal light. Evans crossed his arms and chuckled into the open air calmly, allowing the evil presence to spread 'round him. He took no notice of it, blowing it away as he chuckled. 'The Invincible' was not just simply an impenetrable force on the outside, but one with a solid heart as well. One with a stone cold heart, yet warm emotion. He was the epitome of the word 'virtuoso,' and he was always prepared to show it.
'Raz,' he began calmly, yet in a voice of cold, steel anger, 'I have only a short time to make this little address to you, for I have priorities much higher than yourself.' He stepped forward a little bit, and he withdrew a small piece of Beef Jerky from his back pocket. He tore off a piece with his teeth and chewed it like fresh tobacco. He spoke through his teeth, the words having a tough time flowing out, but speech nevertheless. 'Raz, how foolish you are, how ignorant you are, how blind. You are truly a sad, sad man.' Evans swallowed the jerky and stuck his hands in his pocket, looking up to the heavens. 'Raz, if you aren't here to win, why stay? Why stay when the purpose is to win? You have not achieved the goal, and therefore, you have forsaken wrestling as a whole.'
Evans took a cool look down at the ground, staring into the road that lay beneath the slick, black, highly polished dress shoes. He almost looked like he was about to cry by the words Raz had given him. The tears even began to form inside his eyes, but he would not budge. He stood coldly, staring at the ground calmly, before he looked up with a face of passion. 'Your ill-want to win, Raz, shall inevitably be your demise.'
Evans knelt down and unsheathed a sharpened switchblade. He moved over to a nearby tree and began to insert a carving into it. As he went away from the tree, the tears still attempting to form inside his face, he revealed a carved cross inside of the bark. He knelt down and looked towards the ground, his hands pressed against it, propping himself up above the ground. 'Do you know the cross, Raz? The cross shows passion and it is evident in me today.'
He laughed. 'Of course, you may somehow think that I am attempting to compare myself to our Lord and Savior, and that could not be further from the truth. The question I pose is: Are you willing to die and travel through Hell and back, simply for what or who you love? Because I am, just like Jesus. Just like he loved the people and sacrificed himself for them, I love this sport as well, and will die for it. What makes you have this passion?'
He stood up and looked deep into an open darkness, the open flesh of the land. 'Because Raz, when we finally meet, that's what will happen. I will sacrifice for the American Title, just as Christ sacrificed for the people.'
'However,' Evans continued, drifting away from the cross he had carved in the tree, 'something even greater disturbs me, and that is your claim that I know I cannot beat you, a foolish lie derived by one who feels nothing more than a sense of insecurity.' Evans walked over to a nearby wall and leaned against it to keep himself from collapsing in the heat. It also gave him refuge from the sun beating upon him by giving him shade from the leaves' shadows from the tree.
'But Raz,' he went on with a final breath, scratching his back from the injuries,' you're wrong, because if you are such greatness, your move would have given you the victory, and instead, you have to face me once more, and this is a match which will NOT contain the same mistakes the previous did. So sweet dreams, Raz, and perhaps I'll even see you in this little Tag Tournament of ours...where it'll be LIGHTS OUT for you! Just like for Cameron...dear, sweet, little, arrogant Cameron.'
Chess Games With the Mind: Ever Present- The Cross of Jesus (3/4)