The Hall of Truth is a unique location – looking somewhat like an underground cave. The walls are adorned with lit torches that shine light on masks of former members of importance.
Paragon, with a torch in his own hand, walks down the long corridor.
“We all wear different kind of masks. In my life, I’ve worn many. From the understudy to the master.”
He stops at a unique silver mask.
“This was my mentor. When he first met me, I was wearing a mask of deceit. He saw right through it. Throughout our journey, he saw me adorn many different masks. As I tried to understand what it meant to live a life of truth, I tripped and stumbled into more masks than you could imagine.”
Paragon walks on, continuing down the hall.
He comes upon the mirror of truth and stands before it, looking at his own reflection.
“The mask I wear now was earned, Muerte. It didn’t come easily, and I don’t take it lightly. The mask I wear now is truth; pure, unadulterated truth. I can stand before the mirror and stomach what I am, can you?
Because your mask is an ugly one, isn’t it?
It’s not just lies and deceit, but treachery and cowardice. Your mask holds the secrets to Arcadia and everything therein. It holds dark truths that you’re not willing to look in the eye.”
He shakes his head, ashamed for Muerte.
“You murdered two men in cold blood and vanquished one to an eternity of starvation, death and repetition. It was by your hand that Drewitt, Grimskull and John The Revelator found themselves entombed. The sheer volume of blood on your hands must make that mask smell like iron.
You must be able to taste the stench of your treachery, Muerte.
How does that not eat away at you? How do you stand before the woman you claim to love, knowing what you’ve done?
She’s hardly innocent but everything she thinks she knows about you is a lie. She loves a man that betrayed her; a man that sacrificed their friends and whom manipulated her memory to ensure her silence, even if it did save her life.”
Paragon walks away and moves towards a concrete step, taking a seat and carefully removing his mask. He doesn’t show us his face, but he shows us the mask in his hand with his head lowered.
“The mask you wear doesn’t have to be permanent, El Mariachi Muerte. You can take off that liars mask at any time and become something better than you ever were.
I know it because I did it.
And at Ring King this week, I will show you how.”
He puts the mask back on and flicks his hair up.
“Only the truth shall set you free.
This is your moment.”
Cut.