Brüderlichkeit (Cassius Vs. One)

[Prometheus]

Hello Brother.

Welcome home.

The scene opens on James Moriarty Cassius. He is strolling towards the camera, crossing between a heavy yet empty industrial area and into a lush, green pasture. The trees are well spaced apart, the grass below them suffer no illness at all. The place, for lack of a better horticultural word, is immaculate. Cassius walks in an overcoat and scarf wrapped around him. The sun shines brightly but his breath reveals there to be cold in the air, his glasses slightly fog as he breathes out to start his sentence.

I do say welcome home because technically... It is. You cannot forget that you are my brother. Son of the House of Cassius and entitled to all the inheritance within it, genetic or otherwise. You are a European by blood, by your birth here before being shifted off to an orphanage in the Colonial world. And this night, you return to your people. Our people. You are in Berlin, the capital of Germany. Berlin is a beautiful place, my brother. But, if only we had happier circumstances in which we saw one another, brothers in blood and nationality.

This park I step into, I find so interesting. Behind me, the large urban city that looks so clean and modern is where the great Berlin Wall once stood. A desert in a city where none were to cross, else they suffer the direst of consequences. But here, on the other side of the wall where West Germany stated was this amazing park. This testament to the true beauty of nature. Of hope and desire. And mostly of ability. This park, which one could just see the tops of, were a sign that man should be able to do anything they liked. If only their abilities would let them. I find this so analogous to you and I. You are East, I am west. I have an ability that you dream of. A power you do not have, yet we are supposedly one and the same.

Cassius has stopped at this point and looks over his surroundings, staring back at the cityscape, now barely visible between the trees. He stares at it, almost as if he can see the wall still there, not just its vague outline. As if it had never been torn down and paved over. Cassius suddenly shakes his head and looks around, back at the camera.

O’Donnell is a crude but effective man, is he not? I am sure you yourself have noticed that the very man who first threw us at one another has decided to relive some of the explosive tendencies those battles back then had. Had anyone ever cared to watch either of us at all? No, it was after we left his employ that we became what we were. It was you and I who made the clashes we had so renowned. And now he tries to cash in on this fact, our hard work. Our long, remarkable history.

I am not particularly happy as to how you and I left things. Very much unfinished. Very much up in the air. Our match at Redemption will go down as a great disappointment to me, not because of my loss at your hands. But because we never settled things completely. You still hate me and I still have such a loathing for you. You who stand there with such gifts in your abilities. Gifts in wrestling and with the power of words. You simply do not realise that it is not true. Those gifts were not something you were able to create unto thyself. You have been born with ability, like I have. Do you not look down sometimes, at the typical form of a wrestler, lurking full of muscles, so low on intelligence that they stammer every word that comes from their iron-clad synapses? So small and pathetic that they power their muscles up to appear more frightening? So unwilling to compromise, to strategise their game plans that they can be tripped by the smallest counterbalance? Something you and I do so well. We are so much better at it than anyone, and why?

Because you and I were born to be better than them.

You and I have powers beyond them; our very blood gives us this. We know how to fight properly; we know that strength of arms is nought but a hope, not a strategy. We are grand. But those skills are not your own making. They are not something you created by practice, or through refinement. You and I do it with such a grace that it appears near magical to the lesser of us. Of our Royalty. I know how you dislike this word, but it is true. There is a reason some families are above others.

Genetics and nurture have always been a source of a variety of study, One. Whether truly a man’s nature is the sum of his genes, the acids that make up his blueprint. Or whether the place you grow, the very ground you stand on and the emotions you feel are the keys to your existence. I know the answer, science itself believes in this too and it is now going to be brought home to us all by our match. You may have the abilities of a Cassius, the raw power, but you are not one.

It is both the nature and nurture that truly makes a man. This is why you will never be a Cassius.

You grew up in a bankrupt rock that separates the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean, while I grew up here. In our true home, the home of Cassius, Germany. You struggled through life and weathered the cuts and the bruises. I did so too, but as a Cassius. You had people who cared for you but they were not your kin. So tell me, how could you possibly be more of the Cassius than I am? More of the winner? More of the naturally designed champion than I have already proven myself to be? How can you compete with a Prince, you Pauper? This company calls for a champion to answer its call, it calls for someone to become its legends, its Royals, and it’s first in a long line of great stars. And it calls to me.

I have no idea how to be an “iron Man” but heavens knows I shall try. If all it involves is weekly defences then... Well, I have proven to be good at that before. And I can prove myself good at it again. To a new audience. A new group of my countrymen. I cannot tell thee how much I look forward to this new existence I have created for myself. Nor can I say how thrilled I are that it is you and I, old rivals of blood and spirit that are doing battle for this prize. Whether it becomes a crown jewel or simply ill manufactured coal will be something that shall be decided upon a later date. But I will be the one to hold it, and turn it into something wonderful, something beautiful. Like I have done before, before you, the usurper brother stole it and weakened its image.

I end here for now. No one should expect that you and I would simply throw one lot of words at one another and let it be done with. No. They want to see us argue and counterpoint. Watch two wits battle to their own intellectual peaks. Nor will I continue to speak when there is nothing else to say in an attempt to seem like I have said so much more. I, despite my voracious ability to speak English, do not count the words he sues, nor does he attempt to bore you. I speaketh my mind, and as of now you know my entire mind does unto this matter. I will be fighting with all my heart to become the Champion. I fight with all my powers to prove what I know is true. That you, One, are not better than I am. That you are no Cassius. You are a hollow and unfilled man who has no trace of your true ability in you. I am what you should be.

And I will be champion

Cassius moves right past the camera now, stepping faster than it and causing it to lose its bead on him. The last thing we see are trees and the vague hint of an orange concrete city behind him

*Scene ends*

[Prometheus]

The scene begins oddly. The visual cues are similar. It is an empty locker room. In fact, it is probably the most common scenes of all. However, the visuals do not match. James cassius is nspeaking, it looks certain he is. But what he says seems illegible.

Es muß durch seinen Tod geschehn. Ich habe
Für mein Teil keinen Grund, ihn wegzustoßen,
Als fürs gemeine Wohl. Er wünscht, gekrönt zu sein;
Wie seinen Sinn das ändern möchte, fragt sich.
Der warme Tag ist's, der die Natter zeugt;
Das heischt mit Vorsicht gehn. Ihn krönen?--Ja--
Und dann ist's wahr, wir leihn ihm einen Stachel,
Womit er kann nach Willkür Schaden tun.
Der Größe Mißbrauch ist, wenn von der Macht
Sie das Gewissen trennt; und, um von Cäsarn
Die Wahrheit zu gestehn, ich sah noch nie,
Daß ihn die Leidenschaften mehr beherrscht
Als die Vernunft.

Julius Caesar, act II scene I (Line 10)

The scene changes now with the addition of subtitles. A rather fancy Eurpoean idea but an effective one nevertheless. The American audiences can now understand.

“It must be by his death”. Famous words, famous foolishness and a famous human logic once again being flogged to justify emotions. For those unaware of the significance of it, this dear friend is a speech about power itself. It is about how it stand there as mighty as existence itself yet it is we who cannot comprehend it. Like an ant to a human, all we can see is a toe which to us is a mountain. Imagine our surprise when this pink mountain is merely one of the smallest parts to a goliath, whose extents we cannot fathom because he is bigger than our very eyes. That is power. That is what we all seek. Power is not a serpents egg which will grow mischievous and kill us in the shell. The Quote lies to us.

Power is too much. Power shall be my undoing. Your undoing, the undoing of all humanity. And why not? Is it so wrong to want after it? I do want after it, and I do not deny that fact. Power is everything you can ever want. Power is to shape, to craft, to mould into your very shape. You will be like a potter, sitting around an object and with the subtlest of pushes, you can alter the entire shape. And what is thy clay, the thing you sculpt and create art with? Everything. All the attainable reaches of your brand of power is thine to behold. To be a political leader is the influence of politics, the power of the atom allows you to destroy whatever you see fit. And the power fo a title is to control those around it.

I want this title as much as I have wanted almost anything else in my career. My life perhaps. This is a new start, a title that seems just so wonderfully interesting. Weekly defences. Continual tests, eternal presige. The title itself is devastating simply on paper. Iron Man, endurance. It is not for the faint of heart, it is not for those who are weak of soul. It is for those who are consistent, who are powerful, who are great. And it attracts none other! For you must be grand to last even two months as champion consistently. And there is a trap, a fearful factor that may even scare many away from the title. Imagine the disrespect for a champion that lasts a week. Imagine how disrespectful the fates are to they! For it has now been shown that their victory was a fluke. The purest failure. The victory over the previous champion, it was a concentrated effort. Not a consistent level of their abilities. It may have been better to simply have lost. Can the fragile egos of EWE take that? Can those who believe their own hype because no one else will be able to know that they failed? There is a part of me who wants to see this happen, to enjoy the failure of others in this way. All I can promise thee, is It will not be me.

And now, my new audience. My European audience. My Brother, My co-workers, my Comrade. All of you I now leave. But as I do. As I ready myself to do battle in a new company for an old owner. I leave you with one thought. One that even I still wonder over, still think by even a week after I realised it.

Sometimes I wonder. Is the title made sweeter by the fact I face you, One? Or is the fact if face you become exponentially greater because there is a brand new title on the line?

*scene ends*

[APostingGod]

The scene opens inside a German hotel. The One sits within a small room, looking out at the scenery.

The One: You are the Cassius. The negotiator, the sly, the prince and the royal.
You are the Cassius, and that is why I am not.
For everything you revel in, tactics or heritage, it is why I loath you. Unlike your opponents or your naysayer, I was never jealous of your success or prestige. On the contrary, I appreciate any man who strives for more than where a wealthy man like O’Donnell places him. I admire you for using intelligence over sheer brawn, and most importantly, I respect you as my nemesis, and a worthy one you have been. However, that is where my salutations end, and where my spite begins. You have to realize that for every genetic make up we share, there is a philosophy that separates us. For every similarity, there is a moral ethic that makes us bitter foes. These differences, as vast as they may be, have created this long standing blood war, and as you speak again to me, it only reignites my hatred for who you are.

You are the Cassius, the owed. The spoiled mind that lives in a world of justifying your actions and your decisions as if the world owes you, because you think your blood is superior. You think that family crest entitles you to a thrown, to be known as the very best, to be not only feared as the conqueror, but loved as the saint. Much like the Aryans that lived in this land before you, you find your justification in your birth. Is that not a fitting similarity as we enter your homeland? This beautiful land, stricken with a cloud of remorse and suffering, left with a simple scarlet letter N, for those who believed that their blood was simply made superior. Much like your father, who simply left his seed to fend for himself alone, as if I mistake did not deserve the honor to be called his own. No, he did not feel I was entitled to anything then, did he? He merely found himself as Cassius to good to own up to his responsibilities. He felted it his blood right to have a child on his time, in his country… with his name. No, you are the Cassius, not I.

I am merely The One, your brother… your nemesis. The first born to a name that I will never allow myself to utter out loud as my own. That too, is why you hate me. For everything you have earned as a Cassius, I have denounced by taking it away. For every fear and admiration you have received, I have received in louder volume. If you like to admit it or not, I have overshadowed you since the day O’Donnell never controlled our destinies. I wonder how it must kill you to know that the bastard, the orphan continues to prove that a Fathers nurturing only led to you be the more feminine of the brood. The weak, the justifying, the owed.
You have to admit the irony of our brotherhood. How the younger brother always looks to find his own identity, but still will always be compared to his older brother. How the young Cassius looks for the thrown he believes he was entitled too, only the to see the bastard sitting in his place. You may disagree with my assumption on reality but it no longer matters, the only thing that matters is now. The differences that will decide this weeks match, and who will become the very first Iron Man of Europe.

And the differences is where our brotherhood ends, and our hatred begins. That is our roles, and that is what I will no longer partake in.

Tomorrow, I act as your older brother.
For better or worse.
You are the Cassius, I am The One.
Though not a Cassius.
I am your brother.

The scene ends.