((There's something almost humorous about the way he runs.))

((The sun has just barely begun to break free of the horizon to the east, and spill it's warmth across, Malibu Beech, California. That's right...he's a lot closer then you think. Down on the beach it's still in the low seventies thanks to a stiff breeze coming in from the west. By the afternoon the heat will be unbearable and drive southern Californians to this stretch of beach...it's a Saturday afterall...))

((For now though it's his...Sure earlier there was that woman with her dog that he'd passed by, going the other way, about a mile back, but aside from that duo it'd been quiet all morning. He'd had plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts, but then again he always had time to be alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, usually at night, he'd wish that wasn't so...))

((Sometimes...))

((His bare feet sliced through the ankle deep water, digging into the wet sand beneath, his arms pumped up and down, and his bare chest heaved with each breath...It was dangerous what he was doing...Running barefoot like this through the water. Because you could never really see what was beneath the surface.))

((And there were all kinds of bad things right below the surface...))

((We watch him move towards us...picking up speed with each stride. His arms start to pump faster, and he seems now to almost be running on the water. The breathing is more labored now and irregular. As he grows even closer now he throws his arms back and shoves his chest out...It was something he'd learned in track. Finish strong...chest out, give it everything you have...))

((Within seconds he flies by the camera with a hard grunt, and the camera quickly spins around to watch him decelerate. His hands immediately go to the back of his head as he stands straight taking in deep cleansing breathes. Inhale through the nose...exhale through the mouth...It's hard at first to regulate his breathing, and his lungs burn with a desire to take in oxygen, but he works past that, and slowly he takes control. His chest slows, he drops his arms, and turns towards us.))

November: I spent about a second of my morning replaying your words in my mind, Wally.

Will I get over it if you manage to beat me?

And my question in return is... what does it matter to you? Will it in any way effect what happens next, Thursday? Will my answer to that single question somehow alter your life?

No...and no.

So then why don't you try worrying about your non-existent career instead, and stop dwelling on mine. I know who I am, and what I need to do to achieve my goals. And at no time will those goals ever include interest in another's life. I have my own life to worry about. Maybe you should try that sometime...living your own life instead of borrowing examples of life from others. Maybe, just maybe.

((He turns his head slightly to look out across the Pacific. The silence, broken only by the lapping of the water against the shore, is deafening. His hands find their way to his hips as a breeze starts to work its way through his dark hair...))

((And he's thinking about a thousand different things, but still can focus on you...))

But I do want to reassure you of one thing, Wally. This "thing" going on between Twenty-One and myself...it will most certainly play a part in our match. It will give me a reason to hit just that much harder, to fly just that much further, and to drop you just that much faster. Because everything's a message to them now, Wally. This run on the beach, this glance out to the ocean, and the way I'll shatter your nose on Thursday...it's all a message. And really...that's what you should be worrying about.

But I don't think you will...Because your oblivious to everything around you. Just like how Twenty-One is oblivious to the threat I've become.

And yeah, Wally, in the future...try listening to all of my words, and not just some.

((His head turns back towards us, but his eyes fall to the ground...a small sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head slowly...))

You can't touch me Twenty-One...you or the Ciprianis. So you can continue to make promises and threats to the rest of this federation...you can even dazzle them with a mystery, but leave me out of it... In fact you don't even need to worry about me "proving myself one way or another" on Thursday...because that's not the way I operate...despite how much I sound like a broken record. So go ahead and have your brief moment in the spotlight...do what you're going to do, and then from that point on I'm going to bring it all crashing down on top of you...

Not with an army, not with a baseball bat, and not with hollow promises of your death, but with a determination, and dedication to this sport the likes of which you've never seen and will ever reach. I told you Twenty-One...I'm done with the human, emotional, aspect of all of this. I've detached myself from that world, and those people that I use to know. I hate all of them now, but I hate you the most because I've allowed myself to blame you for everything. Everything that's wrong in my life...everything between them and I...it's your fault.

((His eyes finally flicker up, and he pushes his hair from his eyes. Empty pools...))

The only reason I'm here is to outshine you, Twenty-One. I'm not looking for your friendship...your guidance...or your pity. I've played second string long enough in my career to the likes of Twilight and Jeffery, to not want to do it again. Why in the UWL I could have been something great at one time, but because Jeffery couldn't hack it there...I was forced to step away as well. You're looking at over six-years of missed opportunity in this body, and I'm not about to miss another one by listening to your "rational" rhetoric.

Because there's only one option left to me. One last opportunity that will make my life perfect again. I need to outshine you, and then I need to take your career away from you. And I'm ready to do that at any time.  

I'm done.

((black...))