Post by Drake Hunter on May 10, 2012 4:19:17 GMT -5
The feeling, the expression, the intensity of being in that one place, at one time. The only person in the world, the sole focus of absolutely everything. Basking in a glory like no other, a timeless glory in which there seems to be no end. Nothing to stop you from ruling the world, nothing to stop you. A never-ending glory.
Holding that title, high in the air.
Everybody's vision solely dedicated to the purpose of witnessing the newest World champion. The greatest wrestling faculty the world has ever seen, the true champion, and the only person that now has the power of being champion. The power of creating memories, defining moments and truly setting something true, something real. Because this is real. This is the most real that it will ever get.
The memories of glory, or eternal grace and awe. Holding a heavy piece of metal on a shoulder was just the start of it, it extended into places deep inside you. Defining you, making you the one person who can truly call themselves a champion. The electricity of the crowd, all chanting your name, the fantasy that it being lived every single day, a dream fulfilled, complete, nothing more to climb - The World Champion.
And then, in one instant, it all gets taken away from you.
All of a sudden, the three seconds that lasted eternity now go past in a split second - the three seconds that crowned you champion, the three defining seconds of your life, become the worst three seconds of your life. All of the glory, all of the dreaming and memories, it all starts again. The heavy feeling on your shoulder is gone, now replaced by the desire to regain what is rightfully yours, to climb the mountain again, this time with a much bigger purpose, a much greater desire deep within, and a complete and utter determination to regain what it yours.
That's where i am now. And i don't plan to stay there.
I miss the feeling of the gold on my shoulder, the glory of being the one true champion of New York City, and the World. I miss the feeling that i get when i walk out onto the street and people stare at the gold title on my shoulder, completely awestruck. Now, that feeling is Johnny's. Something i don't mind. Johnny has always been a fighter, determined, but he lacks the one true attribute to REALLY become the best, to truly call himself a champion. He lacks one single attribute:
He's not me.
And funly enough, i am me. I am the greatest professional wrestler to ever grace that ring. I am better than every other person that engulfs my line of sight, and even those that don't. I am better than Johnny, i am better than the rest of the NYCCW roster, i'm best than any other in the fucking WORLD.
I am the best.
And for that reason, i know that i will be champ again. I realize that one day i will stand on the top of the mountain, holding that World title belt high in the air and looking across at the thousands upon thousands, all chanting my name, all watching in awe as they witness the re-crowning of the greatest. The glorification of the Punk. They will all witness me regain my World title.
But nobody said anything about the man in the paintball outfit.
I don't know who H4ck3r is, or why he is attacking me, or hell, i don't even know why he finds it fun to wear a completely black paintball outfit, jump around on buildings and watch porn on other people's computers. I don't know a thing about this guy. But what i do know about is wrestling, and i plan to use that full knowledge to bring down whoever this guy it, because right now, my only goal is that world title, and i am not letting some idiot in a paintball mask screw me over, AGAIN.
This guy is somebody without a soul, somebody who will go to whatever lengths necessary to bring pain to others, and that especially includes me. But what he doesn't realize is that i am the Punk. The very best. The greatest World champion in history. And soon, he'll be nothing. Just another memory, swept along on the sidewalk. While i am the on the main road, the road to my championship.
Whoever H4ck3r is, i hope he realizes how much shit he really has gotten himself into. Because when you piss off the Punk, and sure as hell when you take his girl away from him, life is going to get messy. So wherever he's hiding out - probably Afghanistan - he better be counting his days precious, because wherever he is, the moment he steps out of that hole, and tries to find me again, he's going to know the true pain of the Anaconda Vice.
If he finds me again, he'll know about it. But now, it seems as if i have something else on my hands. Something a lot sweeter and better looking than a man in a paintball suit. Something....electric.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/i]
I wake up suddenly. Wow, i just had the weirdest dream. Well, when i say weird, it didn't classify in my normal definition of "weird", more of "i can't believe that its happening." Then i feel something warm on my chest, something very much alive, and very much welcoming. I cock my head slightly to the left and suddenly i realize the dream i had wasn't entirely a dream - maybe the bit afterwards where i turned into a butterfly, but certainly not the bit that involved her.
I am still awestruck by her beauty, Electra Stevens, the way she glistens in the darkness like beacon of divinity, and all the thoughts of Alyssa Young are forced from my head, all thoughts of any other girl i have ever looked at before vanish from the massive landscape of my mind, and the man i have come to be in my four years in professional wrestling disappears for a split second, as i simply stare into that wonderful face and all my thoughts are reflected.
I ponder what she said to me, hours ago: "I may be interested in you Drake but let me set something straight…I’m not easy. I’m not going to just give it up to you without a little effort on your part, got me? And I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d like your help with training. It really wasn’t a flirt….completely"… Training. She wants my help with training. Wow...
I don't know how people got laid before twitter.
Still, the fact remains that she asked me. She was the one who made the move, and she was the one who wanted ME. She obviously saw something, i mean who wouldn't, but still, its unfamiliar territory. And for some reason, i like it.
The "Talk" didn't last too long, in fact, it lasted about three seconds. I barely got the words "so, when do you wanna train" out of my mouth before she twisted me around and planted her lips firmly on mine, parting her lips enough for our tongues to collide. From there, things really got out of hand, and within half an hour we were on the bed in my locker room - thank god for having the salary of a former world champion - and from there you can probably guess what happened.
She sure wasn't messing around being so confident - her confidence was for a very good reason. Experience IS everything. And after that "session", i was pondering whether there was actually anything i could teach her, if her skills in the ring were as good as other aspects. Still, the thought drifted into my head over whether or not to train her, and it was immediately erased, as she began to stir. Whatever she was doing here, it was for a good reason, and the mere sight of Electra was enough for me to ignore whatever negative thoughts came into my head.
She began to stir, and she moved her arm off of my mid-section as she opened her eyes gingerly, smiling at the sight of my face. I touch her cheek softly, before she slowly moves forward and presses her lips on my cheek, giggling softly before she tugs the covers off of her body and she sits up on the bed, urging me to do the same. Well, one thing was for sure, i'd killed one of the birds. Now it was time to kill the second.
"Well come on then, now its time for some training." Lexi says, bending down and dragging me by my arm so that i am in a sitting position, as she looks to get out of the bed and wraps a shirt around her neck and over her head, picking up the rest of her clothes and she moves towards the door.
"Wait, wait, hold on a second!" I say, pulling the covers off my lower body as i try to catch up with Lexi, who is already opening the door and on her way out. Man, she is quick when she wants to be, i can only imagine how fast she would be in the ring. That's a possibility...
"What?" She asks, a look of anticipation on her face. How could she still have that much energy after what we just did? Stamina. That's another possibility.
"You can't seriously want to train NOW? Not after that."
"Why not? I'm still full of energy? What, the Punk can't handle a little challenge? Remember what i said, Drake? I'm not easy. I’m not going to just give it up to you without a little effort on your part. So?
Jesus, this chick's going to be the death of me.
"Alright, fine." I concede, wrapping the towel around me as i hop out of the bed, and begin walking to the door. "On one condition" She turns around again. "You're buying me dinner tonight."
She sighs a little, playfully, before she grins and walks out the door, with merely a shirt and pants on. I smile, before i realize something, and quickly dart out of the room, intent on following Electra.
"Hey!" I shout, "That wasn't a yes!!" But she was already gone, turning a corner as i see the flourish of her pants go by. I sigh as i feel the familiar hand on my shoulder, and look down to see my old friend looking up at me with a smirk spread across his face.
"Nice catch." He says, and i smile, walking back into my door as he continues walking towards the ring. Well, it was time to go to training i guess. As i finally step into the shower, and continue wondering how i'm going to reclaim my World championship. H4CK3r or no H4CK3r. Either way, now there's somebody to help me along the way. The question was, how was i going to help her?
"Well that's simple" I say to myself. "Show her the meaning of "Punk"
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The training grounds are as packed as they usually are. Hordes of people flood around the rings as they try to get the best look at their favorite in ring competitors, all the while the security struggles to hold back those who are using more force than is needed to simply watch. Inside ring 1 is a couple of wrestlers from Japan who had been traveling America for a few months before they came to another company actually based here in Chicago, where the house shows were taking place.
In ring 2 was a couple of people who i didn't know, although i was sure i'd seen one of them before, probably on TV. Either way, they were insignificant, especially considering two of the most high profile wrestlers in New York had just entered the building. Whether by chance, or fate, Lexi and I were able to sneak into the private room undetected, and from there we proceeded to the ring, cut off to all but the highest profile wrestlers and trainers. Thankfully for us, there seemed to be nobody in sight.
"Alright, we'll start with this." I pull a punching bag from the chest before me and drop it onto the blue mat, on the outside of the ring, before i roll into the ring, the white bandages wrapped around my wrist scraping on the edge of the mat, and as i look up, Electra is sliding in as well her training tights much more colorful than my simple black and white, standard wrestling tights. I smirk as she enters the ring and i lean back on the ropes sizing her up, wondering what to start with.
"What? Come on, let's start." She says, impatiently, but curiously, and i can tell she's sizing me up, exactly like i am now, possibly wondering whether i'll be able to bring out the superstar in her that i knows exists.
"Alright, here." I say, "Come on then."
"Drake, i'm going to need a little more direction than that."
I sigh as i giggle slightly, this would be fun after all. "Charge at me. Any way you want, any time, any pace, i want you to try and get me on the mat."
"You want me to what?"
"Anything you can possibly think of, in any way, to get me off of my feet and onto the mat, on my back."
"Alright then." She says, before she quickly charges at me, attempting a kick to the gut. Without a single movement of my legs i move slightly to the left, dodging the toes of her boots only barely, but enough that i am able to bring my leg up and block the next kick, aimed at my leg. Wrongly thinking that the flurry was over for now, i attempted to swing her around and throw her off balance. Instead, however, i was forced to bring my arms up close to my right cheek and hold my balance as i tried to hold the power of her kick, with more force than i thought possible from a woman of her size. Then i remembered the size of her legs, and realized that i was working with much more than a standard female wrestler.
Nevertheless, and almost impossibly, i was able to hold my feet, but almost instantly she was right back on the attack, attempting a shoulder tackle; trying to slam all her weight against somebody who was off balance - usually a good move. Usually.
I shift my weight so that i am falling backwards, only to stable myself with my right foot, almost out of the ring now, and i push my foot hard enough that my weight is now shifted forwards, my weight overpowering hers so that i am now hold her in a front facelock, holding it for a couple of seconds before i release it and Lexi backs up, a smile spread across her face, although beneath it i can see a look of puzzlement.
"Always be ready for a counter-attack, at any time and place. There's people like Rye and Rage who'll do anything to get the victory, and who rely on counter-attacks like that. I used to be like that too. Remember, they can attack from anywhere, always full of surprises."
"That was good" I say after a second of anxious silence. "You used your weight well, transferring all of it into the spear. Only problem was the aim." I say, bringing the punching bag to a standstill. " If you hit a spear, you hit them here." I point to a section of the punching bag and look up at Electra. But she was already moving, streaming towards me as she dives, this time hitting it with perfect accuracy, spearing me to the ground as the wind is blown out of me.
"No fair..." I say, coughing a little as i try to make it to my feet, to no avail. "Jesus, that hurt."
"Full of surprises, remember?" She says, and as i try and make it to my feet, and succeed in part, she comes at me again, more relentless than the last. Anticipating the attack, i shift my entire body to one side, sticking an arm out and wrapping it around her neck in the process as i use her momentum against her, holding in a sleeper hold for a split second before the movement causes it to become a sleeperslam. As our bodies hit the floor i begin to think about what she would have been like if we had done it after training. Probably still full of energy.
We both get to our feet, and she presses her back to the ropes, quickly catching her breath before she walks towards me and pushes her arms out, colliding with my shoulders as we lockup, and i switch into an arm lock, only to be reversed into a hammerlock. She then switches to a front facelock, but not for long, as i stomp one foot on the ground, and using the momentum, switch into a hammerlock of my own. It keeps going back and forth for a while before i am able to pull her hard enough to get an irish whip going, and i duck my head, trying to lure her into a somersault rollup.
Experience.
She wasn't kidding when she said she had experience. 8 years is a long time to be out of the business, and yet she looked just as good as she would have been eight years ago in that No disqualification match, when she was bloodied and bruised badly enough that she was merely acting on instinct. Whatever instinct she had left, it was enough; enough for me to hone, and enough that she was easily going to breeze past Laura Tavares this week, and whoever else she would face. Training...this should be fun.
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1 DAY LATER:
"Well, that was entertaining" I say, turning around and jumping slightly in the air as i throw my can of coke over the couch and into the small bin, quite proud of the achievement. Okay, time to celebrate; i turn around and open the minibar, pulling out a can of beer as i pop it open, taking one taste, before i cringe and turn around to read the fine print. "What the hell is this shit? Hmph, American beer, just can't trust it." Dissatisfied, i pop open the minibar again, looking for my personal stash. "There we go, Victorian Bitter. THIS is real beer." All it takes is one swig before i sit back in my chair, push the small circle on my iPad and open up NYCCW.com, checking the most recent tweets from the twit Rye Payne. This should be some entertainment - i might need another beer.
However, the first thing that pops up on NYCCW.com is the most recent breaking news - it seems as if the hearing that was held for Rage after his "beating" of London Williams didn't go as planned.
"Yeah, big surprise there. Mr. Jackass and Mr. IWearASuit went at it, no surprise. But it wasn't until i scrolled down and saw the picture of Laura Tavares, unconscious, bleeding from the head. The caption was "Rage does it again, but is he to blame for Laura's injury?" I could only laugh at the fact that Rage was in trouble again - serves him right for beating up a woman in the first place. But it wasn't until i got onto twitter that i saw the LONG list of tweets posted by everybody but me. Well, here comes the trolling.
It took an hour, during which i talked with Stytch about our normal shit, i found out that Lexi had a son, Rage never knew about it, apparently she had problems in bed (none of which seemed to have been true, considering the things that had recently occurred regarding Electra and me), Rye and Rage teamed up, and Johnny finally released that anger that seemed to be building up inside him for weeks now. Then, Lexi and Metallica were absolutely drunk, were having a party, and to be frank, i assumed they were making out.
Long story short, i'm getting laid tonight. And i have a feeling that it will involve alcohol. All the better.
But the best part of it all? It pisses Rage off to NO end.
And that makes me feel good.
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One day, i will receive my title. I will get back what is rightfully mine, and i will forever be remembered as the first two time World champion in NYCCW history. Meanwhile, i will be the first holder of both the Empire State and World titles, and i will be recorded in the new TNN books as the most successful World champion in history. I will become a two time tag team champion with Electra Stevens, i will be the first ever Grand Slam champion in NYCCW, and i WILL be what i always have been: The Best in the World.
Until then, i have some things that need dealt with. Rye Payne. Rage.
H4CK3R.
And one very important thing that needs to be dealt with, although this is more immediate, and definitely a hell of a lot more fun. First, i have a party to attend.
Holding that title, high in the air.
Everybody's vision solely dedicated to the purpose of witnessing the newest World champion. The greatest wrestling faculty the world has ever seen, the true champion, and the only person that now has the power of being champion. The power of creating memories, defining moments and truly setting something true, something real. Because this is real. This is the most real that it will ever get.
The memories of glory, or eternal grace and awe. Holding a heavy piece of metal on a shoulder was just the start of it, it extended into places deep inside you. Defining you, making you the one person who can truly call themselves a champion. The electricity of the crowd, all chanting your name, the fantasy that it being lived every single day, a dream fulfilled, complete, nothing more to climb - The World Champion.
And then, in one instant, it all gets taken away from you.
All of a sudden, the three seconds that lasted eternity now go past in a split second - the three seconds that crowned you champion, the three defining seconds of your life, become the worst three seconds of your life. All of the glory, all of the dreaming and memories, it all starts again. The heavy feeling on your shoulder is gone, now replaced by the desire to regain what is rightfully yours, to climb the mountain again, this time with a much bigger purpose, a much greater desire deep within, and a complete and utter determination to regain what it yours.
That's where i am now. And i don't plan to stay there.
I miss the feeling of the gold on my shoulder, the glory of being the one true champion of New York City, and the World. I miss the feeling that i get when i walk out onto the street and people stare at the gold title on my shoulder, completely awestruck. Now, that feeling is Johnny's. Something i don't mind. Johnny has always been a fighter, determined, but he lacks the one true attribute to REALLY become the best, to truly call himself a champion. He lacks one single attribute:
He's not me.
And funly enough, i am me. I am the greatest professional wrestler to ever grace that ring. I am better than every other person that engulfs my line of sight, and even those that don't. I am better than Johnny, i am better than the rest of the NYCCW roster, i'm best than any other in the fucking WORLD.
I am the best.
And for that reason, i know that i will be champ again. I realize that one day i will stand on the top of the mountain, holding that World title belt high in the air and looking across at the thousands upon thousands, all chanting my name, all watching in awe as they witness the re-crowning of the greatest. The glorification of the Punk. They will all witness me regain my World title.
But nobody said anything about the man in the paintball outfit.
I don't know who H4ck3r is, or why he is attacking me, or hell, i don't even know why he finds it fun to wear a completely black paintball outfit, jump around on buildings and watch porn on other people's computers. I don't know a thing about this guy. But what i do know about is wrestling, and i plan to use that full knowledge to bring down whoever this guy it, because right now, my only goal is that world title, and i am not letting some idiot in a paintball mask screw me over, AGAIN.
This guy is somebody without a soul, somebody who will go to whatever lengths necessary to bring pain to others, and that especially includes me. But what he doesn't realize is that i am the Punk. The very best. The greatest World champion in history. And soon, he'll be nothing. Just another memory, swept along on the sidewalk. While i am the on the main road, the road to my championship.
Whoever H4ck3r is, i hope he realizes how much shit he really has gotten himself into. Because when you piss off the Punk, and sure as hell when you take his girl away from him, life is going to get messy. So wherever he's hiding out - probably Afghanistan - he better be counting his days precious, because wherever he is, the moment he steps out of that hole, and tries to find me again, he's going to know the true pain of the Anaconda Vice.
If he finds me again, he'll know about it. But now, it seems as if i have something else on my hands. Something a lot sweeter and better looking than a man in a paintball suit. Something....electric.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/i]
I wake up suddenly. Wow, i just had the weirdest dream. Well, when i say weird, it didn't classify in my normal definition of "weird", more of "i can't believe that its happening." Then i feel something warm on my chest, something very much alive, and very much welcoming. I cock my head slightly to the left and suddenly i realize the dream i had wasn't entirely a dream - maybe the bit afterwards where i turned into a butterfly, but certainly not the bit that involved her.
I am still awestruck by her beauty, Electra Stevens, the way she glistens in the darkness like beacon of divinity, and all the thoughts of Alyssa Young are forced from my head, all thoughts of any other girl i have ever looked at before vanish from the massive landscape of my mind, and the man i have come to be in my four years in professional wrestling disappears for a split second, as i simply stare into that wonderful face and all my thoughts are reflected.
I ponder what she said to me, hours ago: "I may be interested in you Drake but let me set something straight…I’m not easy. I’m not going to just give it up to you without a little effort on your part, got me? And I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d like your help with training. It really wasn’t a flirt….completely"… Training. She wants my help with training. Wow...
I don't know how people got laid before twitter.
Still, the fact remains that she asked me. She was the one who made the move, and she was the one who wanted ME. She obviously saw something, i mean who wouldn't, but still, its unfamiliar territory. And for some reason, i like it.
The "Talk" didn't last too long, in fact, it lasted about three seconds. I barely got the words "so, when do you wanna train" out of my mouth before she twisted me around and planted her lips firmly on mine, parting her lips enough for our tongues to collide. From there, things really got out of hand, and within half an hour we were on the bed in my locker room - thank god for having the salary of a former world champion - and from there you can probably guess what happened.
She sure wasn't messing around being so confident - her confidence was for a very good reason. Experience IS everything. And after that "session", i was pondering whether there was actually anything i could teach her, if her skills in the ring were as good as other aspects. Still, the thought drifted into my head over whether or not to train her, and it was immediately erased, as she began to stir. Whatever she was doing here, it was for a good reason, and the mere sight of Electra was enough for me to ignore whatever negative thoughts came into my head.
She began to stir, and she moved her arm off of my mid-section as she opened her eyes gingerly, smiling at the sight of my face. I touch her cheek softly, before she slowly moves forward and presses her lips on my cheek, giggling softly before she tugs the covers off of her body and she sits up on the bed, urging me to do the same. Well, one thing was for sure, i'd killed one of the birds. Now it was time to kill the second.
"Well come on then, now its time for some training." Lexi says, bending down and dragging me by my arm so that i am in a sitting position, as she looks to get out of the bed and wraps a shirt around her neck and over her head, picking up the rest of her clothes and she moves towards the door.
"Wait, wait, hold on a second!" I say, pulling the covers off my lower body as i try to catch up with Lexi, who is already opening the door and on her way out. Man, she is quick when she wants to be, i can only imagine how fast she would be in the ring. That's a possibility...
"What?" She asks, a look of anticipation on her face. How could she still have that much energy after what we just did? Stamina. That's another possibility.
"You can't seriously want to train NOW? Not after that."
"Why not? I'm still full of energy? What, the Punk can't handle a little challenge? Remember what i said, Drake? I'm not easy. I’m not going to just give it up to you without a little effort on your part. So?
Jesus, this chick's going to be the death of me.
"Alright, fine." I concede, wrapping the towel around me as i hop out of the bed, and begin walking to the door. "On one condition" She turns around again. "You're buying me dinner tonight."
She sighs a little, playfully, before she grins and walks out the door, with merely a shirt and pants on. I smile, before i realize something, and quickly dart out of the room, intent on following Electra.
"Hey!" I shout, "That wasn't a yes!!" But she was already gone, turning a corner as i see the flourish of her pants go by. I sigh as i feel the familiar hand on my shoulder, and look down to see my old friend looking up at me with a smirk spread across his face.
"Nice catch." He says, and i smile, walking back into my door as he continues walking towards the ring. Well, it was time to go to training i guess. As i finally step into the shower, and continue wondering how i'm going to reclaim my World championship. H4CK3r or no H4CK3r. Either way, now there's somebody to help me along the way. The question was, how was i going to help her?
"Well that's simple" I say to myself. "Show her the meaning of "Punk"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The training grounds are as packed as they usually are. Hordes of people flood around the rings as they try to get the best look at their favorite in ring competitors, all the while the security struggles to hold back those who are using more force than is needed to simply watch. Inside ring 1 is a couple of wrestlers from Japan who had been traveling America for a few months before they came to another company actually based here in Chicago, where the house shows were taking place.
In ring 2 was a couple of people who i didn't know, although i was sure i'd seen one of them before, probably on TV. Either way, they were insignificant, especially considering two of the most high profile wrestlers in New York had just entered the building. Whether by chance, or fate, Lexi and I were able to sneak into the private room undetected, and from there we proceeded to the ring, cut off to all but the highest profile wrestlers and trainers. Thankfully for us, there seemed to be nobody in sight.
"Alright, we'll start with this." I pull a punching bag from the chest before me and drop it onto the blue mat, on the outside of the ring, before i roll into the ring, the white bandages wrapped around my wrist scraping on the edge of the mat, and as i look up, Electra is sliding in as well her training tights much more colorful than my simple black and white, standard wrestling tights. I smirk as she enters the ring and i lean back on the ropes sizing her up, wondering what to start with.
"What? Come on, let's start." She says, impatiently, but curiously, and i can tell she's sizing me up, exactly like i am now, possibly wondering whether i'll be able to bring out the superstar in her that i knows exists.
"Alright, here." I say, "Come on then."
"Drake, i'm going to need a little more direction than that."
I sigh as i giggle slightly, this would be fun after all. "Charge at me. Any way you want, any time, any pace, i want you to try and get me on the mat."
"You want me to what?"
"Anything you can possibly think of, in any way, to get me off of my feet and onto the mat, on my back."
"Alright then." She says, before she quickly charges at me, attempting a kick to the gut. Without a single movement of my legs i move slightly to the left, dodging the toes of her boots only barely, but enough that i am able to bring my leg up and block the next kick, aimed at my leg. Wrongly thinking that the flurry was over for now, i attempted to swing her around and throw her off balance. Instead, however, i was forced to bring my arms up close to my right cheek and hold my balance as i tried to hold the power of her kick, with more force than i thought possible from a woman of her size. Then i remembered the size of her legs, and realized that i was working with much more than a standard female wrestler.
Nevertheless, and almost impossibly, i was able to hold my feet, but almost instantly she was right back on the attack, attempting a shoulder tackle; trying to slam all her weight against somebody who was off balance - usually a good move. Usually.
I shift my weight so that i am falling backwards, only to stable myself with my right foot, almost out of the ring now, and i push my foot hard enough that my weight is now shifted forwards, my weight overpowering hers so that i am now hold her in a front facelock, holding it for a couple of seconds before i release it and Lexi backs up, a smile spread across her face, although beneath it i can see a look of puzzlement.
"Always be ready for a counter-attack, at any time and place. There's people like Rye and Rage who'll do anything to get the victory, and who rely on counter-attacks like that. I used to be like that too. Remember, they can attack from anywhere, always full of surprises."
"That was good" I say after a second of anxious silence. "You used your weight well, transferring all of it into the spear. Only problem was the aim." I say, bringing the punching bag to a standstill. " If you hit a spear, you hit them here." I point to a section of the punching bag and look up at Electra. But she was already moving, streaming towards me as she dives, this time hitting it with perfect accuracy, spearing me to the ground as the wind is blown out of me.
"No fair..." I say, coughing a little as i try to make it to my feet, to no avail. "Jesus, that hurt."
"Full of surprises, remember?" She says, and as i try and make it to my feet, and succeed in part, she comes at me again, more relentless than the last. Anticipating the attack, i shift my entire body to one side, sticking an arm out and wrapping it around her neck in the process as i use her momentum against her, holding in a sleeper hold for a split second before the movement causes it to become a sleeperslam. As our bodies hit the floor i begin to think about what she would have been like if we had done it after training. Probably still full of energy.
We both get to our feet, and she presses her back to the ropes, quickly catching her breath before she walks towards me and pushes her arms out, colliding with my shoulders as we lockup, and i switch into an arm lock, only to be reversed into a hammerlock. She then switches to a front facelock, but not for long, as i stomp one foot on the ground, and using the momentum, switch into a hammerlock of my own. It keeps going back and forth for a while before i am able to pull her hard enough to get an irish whip going, and i duck my head, trying to lure her into a somersault rollup.
Experience.
She wasn't kidding when she said she had experience. 8 years is a long time to be out of the business, and yet she looked just as good as she would have been eight years ago in that No disqualification match, when she was bloodied and bruised badly enough that she was merely acting on instinct. Whatever instinct she had left, it was enough; enough for me to hone, and enough that she was easily going to breeze past Laura Tavares this week, and whoever else she would face. Training...this should be fun.
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1 DAY LATER:
"Well, that was entertaining" I say, turning around and jumping slightly in the air as i throw my can of coke over the couch and into the small bin, quite proud of the achievement. Okay, time to celebrate; i turn around and open the minibar, pulling out a can of beer as i pop it open, taking one taste, before i cringe and turn around to read the fine print. "What the hell is this shit? Hmph, American beer, just can't trust it." Dissatisfied, i pop open the minibar again, looking for my personal stash. "There we go, Victorian Bitter. THIS is real beer." All it takes is one swig before i sit back in my chair, push the small circle on my iPad and open up NYCCW.com, checking the most recent tweets from the twit Rye Payne. This should be some entertainment - i might need another beer.
However, the first thing that pops up on NYCCW.com is the most recent breaking news - it seems as if the hearing that was held for Rage after his "beating" of London Williams didn't go as planned.
"Yeah, big surprise there. Mr. Jackass and Mr. IWearASuit went at it, no surprise. But it wasn't until i scrolled down and saw the picture of Laura Tavares, unconscious, bleeding from the head. The caption was "Rage does it again, but is he to blame for Laura's injury?" I could only laugh at the fact that Rage was in trouble again - serves him right for beating up a woman in the first place. But it wasn't until i got onto twitter that i saw the LONG list of tweets posted by everybody but me. Well, here comes the trolling.
It took an hour, during which i talked with Stytch about our normal shit, i found out that Lexi had a son, Rage never knew about it, apparently she had problems in bed (none of which seemed to have been true, considering the things that had recently occurred regarding Electra and me), Rye and Rage teamed up, and Johnny finally released that anger that seemed to be building up inside him for weeks now. Then, Lexi and Metallica were absolutely drunk, were having a party, and to be frank, i assumed they were making out.
Long story short, i'm getting laid tonight. And i have a feeling that it will involve alcohol. All the better.
But the best part of it all? It pisses Rage off to NO end.
And that makes me feel good.
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One day, i will receive my title. I will get back what is rightfully mine, and i will forever be remembered as the first two time World champion in NYCCW history. Meanwhile, i will be the first holder of both the Empire State and World titles, and i will be recorded in the new TNN books as the most successful World champion in history. I will become a two time tag team champion with Electra Stevens, i will be the first ever Grand Slam champion in NYCCW, and i WILL be what i always have been: The Best in the World.
Until then, i have some things that need dealt with. Rye Payne. Rage.
H4CK3R.
And one very important thing that needs to be dealt with, although this is more immediate, and definitely a hell of a lot more fun. First, i have a party to attend.
