I tried playing a video game once.
I was exploring, jumping around, playing with a sword. You know, mostly enjoying myself. Then I killed an enemy here, an enemy there. I felt like a God. A digital God.
Then, I got to the first boss. He kicked my ass, over, and over, and over again… until I just put down the damn controller.
In New York, at Madison Square Garden, you’re going to put down the damn controller.
Stop playing games, Conor. This is too important.
The scorching sun blazes high in the sky. Sweat drips down the forehead of Tony Davis, who’s in the middle of the desert digging a hole. Flyer looks to be doing his best impression of a state roadside worker, managing the talent as Tony’s spade slams once more into the sand.
He stops, wipes the sweat from his brow, and turns to Flyer.
Tony Davis: Why are we out here digging?
High Flyer: I think you mean why are YOU out here digging?
Tony Davis: Fine.
High Flyer: You don’t know? Legend has it… this is where the original Conor Fuse is buried.
Tony Davis: Wait, what?
High Flyer: You don’t remember?
Flyer starts to pace, placing his hand on Tony’s shoulder.
High Flyer: Don’t stop digging…. So, back in 2003, I was making my debut in another world wide promotion, and there was a VERSION of Conor Fuse, who “unlocked” me during my debut. Now, I’m pretty sure that man’s corpse is somewhere in the desert. Either that, or Conor stole my time machine and somehow Benjamin Buttoned himself?
Tony Davis: Could have stolen Brenton Cross’ machine.
High Flyer: No, he’d have to know and care about Brenton Cross to steal his machine. No one knows who Brenton is. Not even Brenton’s mother.
Suddenly, there’s a large THUD! Flyer’s eyes go wide, and he hits his knees, and starts digging with his hands. He reaches down, and reveals…
E.T. for the Atari.
A whole pile of them.
High Flyer: Son of a bitch!
Flyer takes the cartridge and chucks it far, far away. It plops in the distance, sand wafting from the plop.
Tony Davis: Should… I keep digging?
High Flyer: Whatever. I’m already bored of this.
Flyer walks off, as Davis just looks at him confused. He scratches the top of his head.
Tony Davis: Well, I guess I’ll keep going! Maybe I’ll find a ‘69 ‘stang!
Tony Davis continues to dig, as the scene fades
I could play a bunch more non sequiturs, dive into the jolly radiance of random joy, do exactly what Conor Fuse blames me of, what Fuse himself did. WASTE. YOUR. TIME. But I don’t need to do that.
Not only do I want Conor to become me, it seems that he does as well. He’s spent a career unconsciously mimicking my path, my moveset, my persona even. He’s well on his way to being the new High Flyer, maybe improved, certainly younger… just needs the right catalyst.
So at MTG, in MSG, I intend to be that catalyst. I intend to utterly and violently shatter Conor’s sense of reality. Allow him to see the world in a whole new light. I intend to show Conor Fuse just how liberating it can be when you just let go…
… and be yourself.
When you’re me you’re free.
Take on the mantle. Become the new High Flyer. Fly higher than you ever have before. Do whatever you want. BE, whoever you want. The world, is yours.
Or you can fall to my hands and fall to earth, run over my a locomotive. Lose to me and show the world just how much of an idiot man child you are. How undeserving you are.
Take me out. Replace me. Be me. Be free.
It’s the only way.