Post by "Iron Heart" Ethan King on Aug 27, 2017 7:52:44 GMT -5
ETHAN KING, THE LIMIT BREAKER.
A double sliding door opened, making way for one Ethan Atticio to stumble out of a building, which appeared to be a gym, featuring line after line of both weighted and cardio equipment. The wind blew fiercely, having picked up earlier during the night, and it caused his lengthy brownish-blonde bangs to fly over his face, but he paid them no mind. He took one deliberate step after the other, making his way into the dark, without another soul around him.
The desolate carpark featured nothing but his own hired BMW M3 Pure, which had a deep blue paintjob that looked black without any light shining down upon it. The only other signs of life in the vicinity were the flickering gym lights, the lone man at the reception desk, and the scarce amount of people that now populated the facility, getting their early morning workouts in.
He himself had been one of those people, but he had been there for a much more important purpose. The hours he had spent there all served to prepare him for the match to come, each strike, each lifted weight, each conditioning exercise, he had done it all to ensure he was at peak performance for his first ever title defence.
Too long he had gone by being complacent, too long he had sat around, coasting by on his natural talent and athletic abilities, and this had caused him to become an overlooked commodity. No more, the time was nigh for him to unleash his true inner potential, as many people from both his past and present have said he holds deep inside of him. He would not allow this latent power to go to waste, he had to awaken it somehow, lest he want to be thrown back into the depths of the undercard, and thus never be given the opportunity that he truly desires.
And the only way to do that? Break the limiter that held him down. By pushing every one of his boundaries and limits, he made it all the more possible for him to reach the levels of ability that would guarantee his toppling of every single threat to his success and future status at World Champion of the WCF. And broken his limits, he has.
Ethan King’s breath came heavy and constant, fogging up in front of his eyes as the coldness of the Chicago morning encompassed him, chilling him to his bones. He pushed on however, continuing his journey to his parked car across from him, although it felt far more strenuous and epic of a task than it usually would, had he not spent hours exerting himself beforehand.
Sweat trickled down his body, soaking the tight-fitting maroon shirt that he had arrived in, as well as the baggy gym shorts he wore. His legs wobbled, and he could hardly raise his arms which felt like lead. His knuckles were bruised and some of them were even bleeding slightly from the pressure of his fists digging into the heavy bag relentlessly. For the first time in over a year, Ethan had kept going until he couldn’t go no further, and by doing that he threatened to…
OPEN. THE. GATE.
The gateway to achieving ultimate success, the gateway to unleashing talent and ability hardly before seen in the WCF. A talent that only the likes of the Jonny Fly’s, Joey Flash’s, and other epitomes of near-perfection could only carry inside of them. For what had felt like the longest of times, he had been growing closer to that level, with every match and every victory put behind him, he knew that the time would come eventually…
Until it all came crashing down at Ultimate Showdown, where he allowed once false move to end his hopes of earning the World Championship, and instead had to settle for the Hardcore Title he would be defending at Revenge instead. He would not allow himself to make that mistake again. Never again.
Finally, he had reached the car. Even pulling out the keys in his drenched pocket turned out to be a struggle, but he managed all the same, and unlocked the vehicle. With a weak grasp, he pulled open the back door to the car, and dropped down into the backseats, closing the door behind him and locking it. With a sigh, he squeezed himself into a position where he could fit sufficiently in the back of the car, and then allowed himself reprieve from the night and morning’s hard work.
With a sigh, and his eyelids drooping, Ethan King fell into a deep sleep, where dreams of glory flooded his mind and brought him the sensation of being alive that he had lacked for quite some time.
Ringing Endorsement
The next morning, Ethan King would awake to the sound of buzzing, coming from the glove box. He sighed, noting that the phone had been the bane of his existence in regards to his rapidly diminishing respectable sleeping pattern. Begrudgingly, he picked himself up from his slumber, body aching from the work he had put in at the gym, as well as the horrible sleep position he had been semi-unconscious in for the last five hours. He attempted to ignore this the best he could however, and opened the glove box, before pulling out his phone which he had left there, in an effort to ensure there were no distractions whilst he prepared for his match.
Now though? He knew he had business to arrange, as evident by the name ‘Gavino’ which scrawled itself over his lit up phone screen. He braced himself for the lecture he might receive at the hands of his agent, as it dawns on him that he had missed various calls from him over the course of last night. Prepared to be chastised by a man whom doesn’t even deserve to call himself an ‘equal’ when compared to The Future King, Ethan answers, bringing the phone up to his ear.
‘What do you need, Gavin?’
‘Just need to know where you’ve been. I booked you in for a conference later today. You know, for your match at Revenge? Where you’ll be defending your title against a former two-time World Champion and all-around fan favourite FP-‘
‘Yeah, I know what I’m getting into. And let me tell you, I’ve dealt with a whole lot more in my career.’
‘…you remember what happened the last time you underestimated a challenge, right? You got pinned by a rookie to the main-event scene in SJW, and then you got levied with that piece of scrap metal you’ve probably got resting next to you right now. Speaking of, where the hell are you? I swung by your apartment and you weren’t there.’
‘Training.’
‘That’s truly shocking. I don’t believe you.’
With a sigh, Ethan sat up in the seat, with a little grimace as he stretched out the kinks in his back, muscles still feeling torn and cramped. He leaned back in the seat, glancing out the window for a moment, noticing the now awfully busy carpark that now surrounded him. In an attempt to look at least somewhat normal, he hops into the front seat, before speaking back to his manager.
‘Whatever, where have you booked the damn thing?’
‘I’ll text you after we’re done. I’m kind of in a hurry right now, there’s some business back in Los Angeles that literally none of my assistants have been able to handle… which means that I have to spend half my time today sending them instructions. Don’t worry though, I’ll be at the conference half an hour early, since I’ll be the one hosting it.’
‘Gavin, I need to be recovering. I said I’d be spending all my time either training, or resting, in preparation for my match against FPV. Not only that, but I need to start getting into top fighting shape for WAR, you know that’s coming up soon, right? And knowing the way I get dicked around by Seth in the booking department, he’ll probably put me right in that clusterfuck at number one.’
‘Look, I get what you’re saying, but you know having a public profile will do you better in the long run. For some, it’ll never matter how good you are in the ring. If you don’t have the marketing and reputation to back you up? You’re never going to get anywhere. Look at John Rabid, even you can admit he’s one of the best on the current roster, and what’s he gotten?’
‘Well, if you weren’t aware, he’s about to get a World Title shot. I bet he wouldn’t have taken it lightly that he let SJW ruin a shot at getting the big one at Ultimate Showdown. Hell, even I can relate to that.’
An audible sigh from the other end of the phone, to which Ethan ignores as he turns on the ignition, the car grumbling to life in the carpark.
‘Is that all, Gavin?’
‘Pretty much. Just remember what I told you about speaking to the public, alright? Don’t get too emotional, don’t say or do anything that’ll get you incarcerated-‘
‘Incarcerated? Who do you think I am?’
‘I’m just saying. Just play it cool, answer in a way that’ll make you seem determined, but not too eager. You know what Seth does to the eager types.’
“Yeah, I’ve buried half of them. Mikey, Burnett, Inoku… I deal with them all the time. I won’t make that error, I’m well above that.’
“Confident as ever, I see. Well, in any case, you’ll do just fine. You’re no stranger to this sort of thing, I know. You get why I’m being like this though, right?’
Ethan’s lips curl in contempt for his manager, who at times he wished he would’ve done away with much long ago. But even he had to admit that, in certain situations, having a professional to help with business and marketing matters was a positive – no matter what annoyances and inconveniences came along with it.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Don’t take it the wrong way Ethan, but at the end of the day, you’re my client. Meaning that you’re an investment I’ve put into. What you achieve, and what’s good for you? That’s what I achieve, and what’s good for me. I’m sorry if I’m giving you any added pressure, okay?’
With a rather indifferent tone, Ethan replies, while beginning to reverse out of his parking spot.
‘I honestly don’t care, Gavin. I’ve got something more important to worry about at the moment.’
He pauses, contemplating whether or not he should leave it there, before adding:
‘I’ll see you at the conference.’
‘Indeed, Ethan. Trust me, you and I are going to achieve more than just greatness together, believe me on that one.’
‘Whatever you say, Gavin.’
He hangs up the phone, tossing it lightly onto the passenger seat across from him. He then presses down on the accelerator with his foot, turning out of the gym and preparing for the day ahead. It would involve sleep, a good meal or two, a failed call attempt to the ex-girlfriend that will never answer him, and then finally, a conference dealing with overzealous retards who are comparable to Frank Patrick Venable himself.
SATISFACTION
Later on that day, Ethan would go on to prepare for his public address. He made certain to glance at himself in the mirror – and briefly acknowledged the fact that last night made him look like utter shit – before getting to work. He applied a matte finish product to the hair, putting it into a reasonable condition for a semi-formal event. He then opted for a three piece navy blue wool suit from Hugo Boss which clung tightly to his torso. To compliment the blue, he wore a black tie (not a purple tie, NEVER a purple tie), and then sprayed on a random cologne he resting on his bathroom window seal.
His choice to finish off the look were a pair of gold-rimmed aviators that he had owned since returning to the WCF. He also decided to leave his mother’s ring back at the apartment, in a rather futile attempt to distance himself as far as he could from personal feelings in this moment. The reasoning for this was so that he could begin to simulate how he would be competing in his match at Revenge. By removing all emotion from himself, remaining ice-cool and steady; a rock-solid figure that couldn’t be fazed nor distracted.
If he wanted to walk away with the Hardcore Title, and carry forth some much needed momentum into WAR, he would need to be prepared for anything. That would mean not underestimating the opposition, and remaining an objective and impartial figure, ignoring his own future desires and living entirely in present. One false move could once again be his last.
He ordered a taxi to take him to the address given to him by Gavin. He didn’t speak one word to the man behind the wheel, except at the start, where he told him where he would need to be driven to. After that, Ethan seemed content enough to just glare sullenly out the window – as if he had been missing or longing for something. But, with his eyes behind the glasses, nothing could be seen, and nobody could point out this small hint of weakness. This brought him a slight amount of comfort, at the very least.
Upon arriving at the venue, he briskly stepped out of the door, handing the man a one-hundred dollar bill (which turned out to be double the amount required), before the driver could question him however, he had already left and shut the door abruptly, leaving the man to drive off. Ethan ignored the small amounts of rain that pattered against his woollen suit, as he was soon walking through the front door of the venue. He was greeted by a long hallway, which prompted him to walk to the room that was generating the largest amount of noise. Soon enough, he found himself face to face with Gavino Octavian Deltas, who was standing just outside a small room with a closed door. He offered his client a smile, before tapping on the watch strapped over his wrist.
‘You’re on in a minute. All the reporters are in there waiting for you. Are you ready to go?’
Ethan shrugs nonchalantly, his shoulders rising merely an inch before falling back down. He tries to offer a genuine smile, but he knows it comes off as nothing more than a cocky smirk.
‘Come on, Gavin. I perform week in and week out in packed stadium after packed stadium. I don’t need to prepare for some run of the mill conference.’
‘You’re acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.’
‘Not really. I’d prefer what I’m about to do now, then get a vanilla interview with Hank Brown.’
‘Taking a shot at FPV already?’
‘I mean, it’s Frank. Let’s be real, Hank’s probably the last guy in the whole WCF that likes him. Everybody around here needs a friend. I’ve got Everest, and Frank’s got… well, he’s got Hank.’
‘And just when I thought you were starting to show him some respect by actually training in preparation to face him.’
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. Frank’s an alright guy. I’m just letting you know that Hank’s probably the only reason the guy hasn’t started slicing his wrists or some shit. Anyway, don’t I have to go in there and spout some half-assed answers to a bunch of nobody reporters?’
Once again, Gavino checks his watch. This time, he nods.
‘That you do. Good luck, my friend.’
With a wave of the hand, Gavino gestures for Ethan to enter the room, who obliges gracefully as he opens the door, and begins an elegant walk up a small stage set up for small press events such as these. He climbs one stair, and then another, before coming up to the middle of a lengthy table, where a chair has been tucked in underneath just for him. As he pulls the chair out from the table, and bends over to sit on it, a brief applause sounds from the thirty or so reporters who have gathered on that night to speak with him. Two thirds of them have either a laptop or a notepad at the ready, while the others have recording devices – or phones at the very least – primed to capture snippets of his voice. He adjusts the microphone on the table, bringing it a little closer towards him, as he takes a sip of water from a bottle that had been placed for him earlier in the night. He offers them a quick smile, as Gavino also steps up onto the stage, spreading his arms out to either side of his body.
‘The conference has now begun. You may politely raise your hand and wait for Mr. King to call on you.’
Immediately, at least a dozen hands shoot up into the air, pointed towards the bland white ceiling that hung above them all. Ethan pretended to show interest in the proceedings, as he beckoned towards a grey-haired reporter who appeared as though he were a veteran of his industry. The crow’s feet at the corner of both his eyes, as well as the several wrinkles atop his forehead, both seemed to indicate that.
‘You there, you can go first.’
‘Thank you, Mr. King. Firstly, I know it’s been a little while now, but how did you feel about coming away with the Hardcore Title at Ultimate Showdown? Has there been a little tension in the Everest locker room due to the result of the match?’
‘Disappointed. I have proven I am a much more capable competitor, far above holding a mid-card belt like the Hardcore Title. That being said, I am prepared to do whatever I need to do to help elevate the belt and make it a prized attraction. However, in the long run, I am only here for one thing and one thing only – the World Title. I would be a fool to grow complacent simply by coming away with a title at Showdown.
‘And the Everest locker room? Well, I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been awkward in their recently. I haven’t been there much, but between the founding group in myself, Sanchez and Singh? We’re all very egotistical, if you haven’t been able to tell, and we’ve all been vying for the top prize. Naturally, there’d be a little tension there. But at the end of the day, we’re all professionals, and we all went into Showdown knowing that one of us would be walking out with the World in our hands. It just so happened that Steve had been the one to make the most of the opportunity. Next?’
‘Mr. King, I still have another question.’
‘Go on.’
‘Are you worried at all that you might drop the belt to FPV at Revenge, delegitimizing it after the incredible run Andre Holmes had with it?’
‘Remember what I said a moment ago about growing complacent? Well, that’s one thing that Mr. Venable has always been upon achieving even the slightest amount of respect. Do you remember how much he flaunted being the TV Champion of 2016? Do you remember how that had become the one big crowning point he had during the entire year? Shortly after dropping that belt, he became nothing, just a veteran presence in a lackluster group in The Brotherhood. A stable he had been forced to join after losing in a match to a mid-card curtain jerker in Kevin Bishop, one of Everest’s bitches.
‘Make no mistake about it, FPV is the pinnacle of complacency. For a man who always speaks of doing things for the fans, and being someone who goes against all the ‘bad’ in the federation, FPV dips out during key and crucial moments after he’s had his fair share of success. After losing the TV Title, he flopped against Jared Holmes in one of the biggest matches at Thirteen. Only when he beat David in a gimmick ladder match to become the holder of Final Destination did he regain any sort of spark that he had lost after becoming demoralized by Sebastian Knight. After that, he cashed in on a weak, transitional champion in Jason O’Neal, and then managed to have yet another uninspired run with the Big One (his second of his career, mind you) in which he ended up dropping the belt to the same man that ruined him at Thirteen in Jared Holmes. It’s odd to think that FPV tries to come off as one of the most determined men on the roster, yet when the going gets tough, he always seems to flake under the pressure of being faced with more advanced, talented competition. Hey, that’s probably why he avoided taking a rematch against David for the Final Destination briefcase – he knew he couldn’t get lucky twice.
‘After that, Frank kind of fell off the face of the planet again. He lost all motivation, he became content to just float around and do whatever he wanted… the TRUE showing of a hero of the people, am I right? Honestly, it’s a fucking wonder that people still like him, even when they’re faced with the fact that in reality, he’s just as selfish and egocentric as every single other guy in the WCF. If we forget about that for the moment though, let’s take a look at what FPV decided to do next…
‘King of the Deathmatch. Yep, after a humiliating run with the World Title – a belt he had finally recaptured after a long break from even being considered to be a part of the main-event scene – and then decided he would enter into the King of the Deathmatch Tournament. All in the hope that he could avenge the defeat he took against Corey Black. Another money match that would allow Frank to stroke his own dick, as well as let him hopefully get another chance to put himself back on a pedestal that could lead to another World Title run. Thankfully however, he didn’t get that opportunity – unless we all wanted to see another month long reign that ended in complete tragedy.
‘Anyway, back to the point I’m trying to make here… if we’re trying to sum up the change in FPV’s mindset over the last few years, it kind of goes like this.’
He pauses, holding up a hand to his left, palm held up to the ceiling, while doing his best impersonation of FPV’s voice.
‘I’m doing this for the fans, week in and week out! That, ladies and gentlemen, was Frank Patrick Venable prior to his 2016 return.’
He then holds up his right hand, in the same way he holds the left.
‘I do this when I need money, recognition, acceptance, and adulation from the people around me, because I’m a depressed fuck with a loser’s mentality who still needs wrestling as a source of support for my diminishing morale. That is current era FPV, an FPV who is lonely, an FPV who bases his whole existence off of being “liked”, “cherished” and “respected” by the fans. An FPV who is yet to come to terms with the fact that in today’s age of WCF, he is nothing but a bit player in the WCEverest.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Frank is one of the greats, and at any given moment, he can shock The World and come out with an upset victory that pushes him back up into the conversation of being one of the ‘top guys’ around. He’s done it against Dave, he’s done it against Corey Black, and there’s always the chance he could do it again.
‘But take note of what I just said. It pushes him back into the CONVERSATION, it doesn’t make him one of the top guys. And that has always been the story of Frank’s career, he’s always been the type of guy to be overlooked, the type of guy to never quite be in the upper-echelon, although he’s perennially being looked at as though he is only JUST below the level of being one of the best,.
‘But that’s the thing with Frank, he doesn’t push to be the best, he just simply isn’t determined enough to be the best. And if I’m being one hundred percent candid with you all? He just doesn’t have what it takes to be the best, whether it be with his mentality, or his levels of talent. It’s just not there. That’s not to say I’m going to be taking him lightly – in fact, I’ve made more preparation for this match than I’ve made for any other match before. I know deep down that at his absolute best, Frank can beat just about anyone…
“That’s why I’m not about to let him beat me. I’m not about to be made an example of. I have trained, I have mentally prepared myself, and I know the game-plan I need to be able to walk out with the victory and my title in hand. There’s no doubt in my mind that Frank will be coming at me with his whole arsenal, but I cannot allow myself to be plunged back into the darkness that is the WCF Lowercard.
‘In the Trios Cup, and in Ultimate Showdown, I proved that I belong in the main-event. I went toe to toe with the best of the best, and for the most part? I was the one who ended up coming out on top. I’m not about to let all of that, the momentum… the success… the confidence… I’m not about to let it all be thrown away because I slipped up and lost concentration against a guy who couldn’t even give a fuck if he was the Hardcore Champion or not.
‘I will be the man that’s carrying this belt forward into the new era, I will be the man who makes an example of anyone who dares to challenge me for it, and I will be the man who walks into WAR with this belt over my shoulder, ready and prepared to stake my claim to the main-event of ONE.
‘And do you all want to know why that is?’
He stops speaking for a moment, as if asking his own question to the crowded room, where the rows of reporters remain seated and silent.
‘It’s because I am NEVER, EVER satisfied. I don’t care how many titles I win, I don’t care how many victories I acquire, I don’t care if I’m in the main-event every week, I will NOT STOP until I have captured the World Title, and then I will go on to have one of the most respectable, memorable title reigns in recent memory. Because I do not allow myself to become complacent, I am NOT satisfied with second place, and I never will be.
‘FPV? He’s made a career out of being happy with coming second. Whether it be with the TV Title, or by finishing in the Top 8 at WAR last year. Frank has always prided himself on ‘giving it his best shot’ and ‘putting on a good performance’. And that’s the difference between the two of us.
‘He’s the type of man who will be happy to at least HOLD the World Championship, and he’s proven it twice already, through his two less than impressive reigns. But me? I am the man who plans to THRIVE when I get my hands on that championship. Because this is what everything has been leading up to, this is what I’ve been working towards ever since I returned eight months ago. This is what every victory, defeat, high, and low has been leading towards. And I’m not about to let it all go down the drain because I decided to underestimate a guy like Frank.
‘There will be no half-measures, there will be no miscalculations. I will be stepping into the ring with FPV, and I will be treating it as though it were the biggest match of my life. Because THAT is the only way you can achieve guaranteed success, and that will be why I walk away with the Hardcore Championship… and it will also be the reason Frank walks out of the arena, saying that he’s ‘happy with the performance he put in’.
‘FPV, if you’re watching, I hope you’re prepared. I hope you’re prepared to be exposed for what you really are. You’re a coward, a man who hides his problems and his true intentions behind a facade by dedicating everything he does ‘to the fans’. I’m going to show The World what you really are, for this is my duty now. The WCF doesn’t need or deserve men like you, false champions who carry themselves as though they are worth more than what they really are.
‘I hope you’re satisfied with your win over Corey Black, because this belt? It’s staying with me until I decide I don’t want it anymore.’
The passionate outburst from the Hardcore Champion prompts an applause from the amassed reporters, who seem impressed by the showing of emotion that is rarely seen from the usually indifferent Ethan King. Gavino however, doesn’t seem pleased with the outcome, leaning down next to Ethan and whispering:
‘What did I say about getting too into it?’
Ethan smirks, and whispers back.
‘Nothing like bringing a bit of excitement into these peoples’ lives, you know?’
Gavino shakes his head, but offers a polite smile to the reporters.
‘I’m hoping you all took your notes, because it appears my client has been summoned to another place of importance! We only have time for one more question. Ethan, would you do the honours?’
The reporters desperately begin to shoot their hands up once more, like schoolchildren, they attempt to stretch and raise their arms up higher than the people next to them. Ethan catches the eye of a pretty brunette reporter, who has her hair done up in a bun. Her smile lures him into calling on her.
‘You. Yes, you. What would you like to ask?’
‘What’s the plan after FPV, Ethan? What do you want to do next?’
Upon hearing the question, Ethan almost rolls his eyes. Disappointed by the unintelligent question, he frowns, but decides to answer anyway.
‘Have I not made it clear? I intend to carry forth the Hardcore Title and dominate the division until I do not have even one single challenger to clear. But along with that? I am going to win WAR. There is not one man in that match who will be hungrier than me, there is not one man who will be more prepared to outlast and outperform everyone to win that match. I’m already suffering under the knowledge that my defeat in the second biggest match of the year came due to one small error in judgement. I will not allow that to happen against in the biggest match of the year.
‘I am in the best shape of my career, and I am more concentrated than ever before. And I am going to prove that at Revenge. I will not let myself look too far into the future, I will focus on the present and the present only, and the present right now is Frank Patrick Venable.
‘You’ve had a legendary career here, Frank. One worthy of being respected, and one that I will take into account when I step into the ring with you at Revenge. You’re a crafty competitor, and one that if I take too lightly… will rip my title away from me. I won’t let that happen, I won’t allow myself to become another man who hasn’t afforded you the respect that you deserve. I’m not a David Sanchez, who’ll treat you like you’re nothing and then be completely overwhelmed when you turn up the heat. I’m a hungrier, more athletic, and more focused competitor than David, and you know what?
‘I can be just as savage when I need to be.
‘Good luck, Frank. You’ve done well to pick your game up to an even higher level since returning. But all of that? It’s all about to come crashing down. The signs have been showing for a while, and now? It’s about time I put your little streak to an end.
‘There is no chance I will allow you to humiliate me by taking my title, and then ruining its reputation.
‘For now, you have my full attention. And after I leave you a broken, bloody, and scarred mess in the middle of that ring? I will finish what I started eight months ago.’
He stands up from his seat, taking another sip of the water bottle before pacing off the stage and disappearing through the doorway he entered from. The reporters applause for him once more, before scampering off themselves, filing out through a separate doorway, leaving a mess of chairs and papers behind them. Gavino and Ethan walk through the hallway and come out to the front of the venue.
‘Well, that was interesting to say the least.’
‘Too far, you think?’
‘Not exactly what I wanted if I’m being honest. But at least you’re not taking your match lightly. You have a goal to accomplish, after all.’
“That being?’
‘Why, The World, of course.’
With that, he waves at Ethan, before beginning to walk off into the night, briskly walking across the street.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Well, I lied when I said YOU were the one that had been summoned, clearly. I’ve got more business I need to get a handle on.’
Ethan sighs, as he watches his manager cross the street, and then disappear around a corner. He’ll have to order himself another taxi, which he doesn’t mind – he’d rather be alone than deal with the constant pestering of his agent.
About an hour later, after getting a taxi to his location and then catching it back to his apartment, he receives a message on his phone. Confused, he navigates to the message area of his phone.
Tell me, Ethan. What do you value more?
Loyalty or Love?
Unsure of why he is being asked the question, he opens the door to his apartment and then quickly walks inside, dropping his belongings on a leather couch in front of a television, and propping his elbows up on the kitchen counter.
A few seconds later, he receives an image, not a message. For a moment, the image is grainy and unidentifiable, but after it loads up and becomes clear? The World begins to warp before his very eyes.
Cara Segreti and Kyle Atticio.
His former lover, and his sister.
Both are inside the same room, but neither of them are smiling, bickering as though they themselves were two sisters. Instead, they both were ensnared by ropes that attached them to chairs in an otherwise empty room, with black tapes across their mouths that prevented them from speaking.
Ethan blinked once, twice, three times, to ensure he wasn’t just dreaming up what he saw before his very eyes. But then he came to the inevitable conclusion…
It was them.
This was real.
Rage had not been something Ethan Atticio often felt. Ever since escaping from Mexico, he considered himself to be someone who was usually indifferent to The World around him, someone that could be relied upon to remain composed under pressure.
But now? He saw nothing but red.
Blood Red.
He made no text back to whoever it had been that sent him the image, but a fire had begun to burn brightly within him, giving him a newfound spirit that he had been lacking in recent times. Seeing both his sister and his once beloved girlfriend with no hope of escape… it gave him the sense that he was the flaring beacon of hope.
They were his responsibility, one that he had ignored for far too long.
And now that he knew what he had allowed to happen? He felt nothing but a severe wrath coursing through him.
One that he would use against everyone and anyone that stood in his way.
A double sliding door opened, making way for one Ethan Atticio to stumble out of a building, which appeared to be a gym, featuring line after line of both weighted and cardio equipment. The wind blew fiercely, having picked up earlier during the night, and it caused his lengthy brownish-blonde bangs to fly over his face, but he paid them no mind. He took one deliberate step after the other, making his way into the dark, without another soul around him.
The desolate carpark featured nothing but his own hired BMW M3 Pure, which had a deep blue paintjob that looked black without any light shining down upon it. The only other signs of life in the vicinity were the flickering gym lights, the lone man at the reception desk, and the scarce amount of people that now populated the facility, getting their early morning workouts in.
He himself had been one of those people, but he had been there for a much more important purpose. The hours he had spent there all served to prepare him for the match to come, each strike, each lifted weight, each conditioning exercise, he had done it all to ensure he was at peak performance for his first ever title defence.
Too long he had gone by being complacent, too long he had sat around, coasting by on his natural talent and athletic abilities, and this had caused him to become an overlooked commodity. No more, the time was nigh for him to unleash his true inner potential, as many people from both his past and present have said he holds deep inside of him. He would not allow this latent power to go to waste, he had to awaken it somehow, lest he want to be thrown back into the depths of the undercard, and thus never be given the opportunity that he truly desires.
And the only way to do that? Break the limiter that held him down. By pushing every one of his boundaries and limits, he made it all the more possible for him to reach the levels of ability that would guarantee his toppling of every single threat to his success and future status at World Champion of the WCF. And broken his limits, he has.
Ethan King’s breath came heavy and constant, fogging up in front of his eyes as the coldness of the Chicago morning encompassed him, chilling him to his bones. He pushed on however, continuing his journey to his parked car across from him, although it felt far more strenuous and epic of a task than it usually would, had he not spent hours exerting himself beforehand.
Sweat trickled down his body, soaking the tight-fitting maroon shirt that he had arrived in, as well as the baggy gym shorts he wore. His legs wobbled, and he could hardly raise his arms which felt like lead. His knuckles were bruised and some of them were even bleeding slightly from the pressure of his fists digging into the heavy bag relentlessly. For the first time in over a year, Ethan had kept going until he couldn’t go no further, and by doing that he threatened to…
OPEN. THE. GATE.
The gateway to achieving ultimate success, the gateway to unleashing talent and ability hardly before seen in the WCF. A talent that only the likes of the Jonny Fly’s, Joey Flash’s, and other epitomes of near-perfection could only carry inside of them. For what had felt like the longest of times, he had been growing closer to that level, with every match and every victory put behind him, he knew that the time would come eventually…
Until it all came crashing down at Ultimate Showdown, where he allowed once false move to end his hopes of earning the World Championship, and instead had to settle for the Hardcore Title he would be defending at Revenge instead. He would not allow himself to make that mistake again. Never again.
Finally, he had reached the car. Even pulling out the keys in his drenched pocket turned out to be a struggle, but he managed all the same, and unlocked the vehicle. With a weak grasp, he pulled open the back door to the car, and dropped down into the backseats, closing the door behind him and locking it. With a sigh, he squeezed himself into a position where he could fit sufficiently in the back of the car, and then allowed himself reprieve from the night and morning’s hard work.
With a sigh, and his eyelids drooping, Ethan King fell into a deep sleep, where dreams of glory flooded his mind and brought him the sensation of being alive that he had lacked for quite some time.
Ringing Endorsement
The next morning, Ethan King would awake to the sound of buzzing, coming from the glove box. He sighed, noting that the phone had been the bane of his existence in regards to his rapidly diminishing respectable sleeping pattern. Begrudgingly, he picked himself up from his slumber, body aching from the work he had put in at the gym, as well as the horrible sleep position he had been semi-unconscious in for the last five hours. He attempted to ignore this the best he could however, and opened the glove box, before pulling out his phone which he had left there, in an effort to ensure there were no distractions whilst he prepared for his match.
Now though? He knew he had business to arrange, as evident by the name ‘Gavino’ which scrawled itself over his lit up phone screen. He braced himself for the lecture he might receive at the hands of his agent, as it dawns on him that he had missed various calls from him over the course of last night. Prepared to be chastised by a man whom doesn’t even deserve to call himself an ‘equal’ when compared to The Future King, Ethan answers, bringing the phone up to his ear.
‘What do you need, Gavin?’
‘Just need to know where you’ve been. I booked you in for a conference later today. You know, for your match at Revenge? Where you’ll be defending your title against a former two-time World Champion and all-around fan favourite FP-‘
‘Yeah, I know what I’m getting into. And let me tell you, I’ve dealt with a whole lot more in my career.’
‘…you remember what happened the last time you underestimated a challenge, right? You got pinned by a rookie to the main-event scene in SJW, and then you got levied with that piece of scrap metal you’ve probably got resting next to you right now. Speaking of, where the hell are you? I swung by your apartment and you weren’t there.’
‘Training.’
‘That’s truly shocking. I don’t believe you.’
With a sigh, Ethan sat up in the seat, with a little grimace as he stretched out the kinks in his back, muscles still feeling torn and cramped. He leaned back in the seat, glancing out the window for a moment, noticing the now awfully busy carpark that now surrounded him. In an attempt to look at least somewhat normal, he hops into the front seat, before speaking back to his manager.
‘Whatever, where have you booked the damn thing?’
‘I’ll text you after we’re done. I’m kind of in a hurry right now, there’s some business back in Los Angeles that literally none of my assistants have been able to handle… which means that I have to spend half my time today sending them instructions. Don’t worry though, I’ll be at the conference half an hour early, since I’ll be the one hosting it.’
‘Gavin, I need to be recovering. I said I’d be spending all my time either training, or resting, in preparation for my match against FPV. Not only that, but I need to start getting into top fighting shape for WAR, you know that’s coming up soon, right? And knowing the way I get dicked around by Seth in the booking department, he’ll probably put me right in that clusterfuck at number one.’
‘Look, I get what you’re saying, but you know having a public profile will do you better in the long run. For some, it’ll never matter how good you are in the ring. If you don’t have the marketing and reputation to back you up? You’re never going to get anywhere. Look at John Rabid, even you can admit he’s one of the best on the current roster, and what’s he gotten?’
‘Well, if you weren’t aware, he’s about to get a World Title shot. I bet he wouldn’t have taken it lightly that he let SJW ruin a shot at getting the big one at Ultimate Showdown. Hell, even I can relate to that.’
An audible sigh from the other end of the phone, to which Ethan ignores as he turns on the ignition, the car grumbling to life in the carpark.
‘Is that all, Gavin?’
‘Pretty much. Just remember what I told you about speaking to the public, alright? Don’t get too emotional, don’t say or do anything that’ll get you incarcerated-‘
‘Incarcerated? Who do you think I am?’
‘I’m just saying. Just play it cool, answer in a way that’ll make you seem determined, but not too eager. You know what Seth does to the eager types.’
“Yeah, I’ve buried half of them. Mikey, Burnett, Inoku… I deal with them all the time. I won’t make that error, I’m well above that.’
“Confident as ever, I see. Well, in any case, you’ll do just fine. You’re no stranger to this sort of thing, I know. You get why I’m being like this though, right?’
Ethan’s lips curl in contempt for his manager, who at times he wished he would’ve done away with much long ago. But even he had to admit that, in certain situations, having a professional to help with business and marketing matters was a positive – no matter what annoyances and inconveniences came along with it.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Don’t take it the wrong way Ethan, but at the end of the day, you’re my client. Meaning that you’re an investment I’ve put into. What you achieve, and what’s good for you? That’s what I achieve, and what’s good for me. I’m sorry if I’m giving you any added pressure, okay?’
With a rather indifferent tone, Ethan replies, while beginning to reverse out of his parking spot.
‘I honestly don’t care, Gavin. I’ve got something more important to worry about at the moment.’
He pauses, contemplating whether or not he should leave it there, before adding:
‘I’ll see you at the conference.’
‘Indeed, Ethan. Trust me, you and I are going to achieve more than just greatness together, believe me on that one.’
‘Whatever you say, Gavin.’
He hangs up the phone, tossing it lightly onto the passenger seat across from him. He then presses down on the accelerator with his foot, turning out of the gym and preparing for the day ahead. It would involve sleep, a good meal or two, a failed call attempt to the ex-girlfriend that will never answer him, and then finally, a conference dealing with overzealous retards who are comparable to Frank Patrick Venable himself.
SATISFACTION
Later on that day, Ethan would go on to prepare for his public address. He made certain to glance at himself in the mirror – and briefly acknowledged the fact that last night made him look like utter shit – before getting to work. He applied a matte finish product to the hair, putting it into a reasonable condition for a semi-formal event. He then opted for a three piece navy blue wool suit from Hugo Boss which clung tightly to his torso. To compliment the blue, he wore a black tie (not a purple tie, NEVER a purple tie), and then sprayed on a random cologne he resting on his bathroom window seal.
His choice to finish off the look were a pair of gold-rimmed aviators that he had owned since returning to the WCF. He also decided to leave his mother’s ring back at the apartment, in a rather futile attempt to distance himself as far as he could from personal feelings in this moment. The reasoning for this was so that he could begin to simulate how he would be competing in his match at Revenge. By removing all emotion from himself, remaining ice-cool and steady; a rock-solid figure that couldn’t be fazed nor distracted.
If he wanted to walk away with the Hardcore Title, and carry forth some much needed momentum into WAR, he would need to be prepared for anything. That would mean not underestimating the opposition, and remaining an objective and impartial figure, ignoring his own future desires and living entirely in present. One false move could once again be his last.
He ordered a taxi to take him to the address given to him by Gavin. He didn’t speak one word to the man behind the wheel, except at the start, where he told him where he would need to be driven to. After that, Ethan seemed content enough to just glare sullenly out the window – as if he had been missing or longing for something. But, with his eyes behind the glasses, nothing could be seen, and nobody could point out this small hint of weakness. This brought him a slight amount of comfort, at the very least.
Upon arriving at the venue, he briskly stepped out of the door, handing the man a one-hundred dollar bill (which turned out to be double the amount required), before the driver could question him however, he had already left and shut the door abruptly, leaving the man to drive off. Ethan ignored the small amounts of rain that pattered against his woollen suit, as he was soon walking through the front door of the venue. He was greeted by a long hallway, which prompted him to walk to the room that was generating the largest amount of noise. Soon enough, he found himself face to face with Gavino Octavian Deltas, who was standing just outside a small room with a closed door. He offered his client a smile, before tapping on the watch strapped over his wrist.
‘You’re on in a minute. All the reporters are in there waiting for you. Are you ready to go?’
Ethan shrugs nonchalantly, his shoulders rising merely an inch before falling back down. He tries to offer a genuine smile, but he knows it comes off as nothing more than a cocky smirk.
‘Come on, Gavin. I perform week in and week out in packed stadium after packed stadium. I don’t need to prepare for some run of the mill conference.’
‘You’re acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.’
‘Not really. I’d prefer what I’m about to do now, then get a vanilla interview with Hank Brown.’
‘Taking a shot at FPV already?’
‘I mean, it’s Frank. Let’s be real, Hank’s probably the last guy in the whole WCF that likes him. Everybody around here needs a friend. I’ve got Everest, and Frank’s got… well, he’s got Hank.’
‘And just when I thought you were starting to show him some respect by actually training in preparation to face him.’
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. Frank’s an alright guy. I’m just letting you know that Hank’s probably the only reason the guy hasn’t started slicing his wrists or some shit. Anyway, don’t I have to go in there and spout some half-assed answers to a bunch of nobody reporters?’
Once again, Gavino checks his watch. This time, he nods.
‘That you do. Good luck, my friend.’
With a wave of the hand, Gavino gestures for Ethan to enter the room, who obliges gracefully as he opens the door, and begins an elegant walk up a small stage set up for small press events such as these. He climbs one stair, and then another, before coming up to the middle of a lengthy table, where a chair has been tucked in underneath just for him. As he pulls the chair out from the table, and bends over to sit on it, a brief applause sounds from the thirty or so reporters who have gathered on that night to speak with him. Two thirds of them have either a laptop or a notepad at the ready, while the others have recording devices – or phones at the very least – primed to capture snippets of his voice. He adjusts the microphone on the table, bringing it a little closer towards him, as he takes a sip of water from a bottle that had been placed for him earlier in the night. He offers them a quick smile, as Gavino also steps up onto the stage, spreading his arms out to either side of his body.
‘The conference has now begun. You may politely raise your hand and wait for Mr. King to call on you.’
Immediately, at least a dozen hands shoot up into the air, pointed towards the bland white ceiling that hung above them all. Ethan pretended to show interest in the proceedings, as he beckoned towards a grey-haired reporter who appeared as though he were a veteran of his industry. The crow’s feet at the corner of both his eyes, as well as the several wrinkles atop his forehead, both seemed to indicate that.
‘You there, you can go first.’
‘Thank you, Mr. King. Firstly, I know it’s been a little while now, but how did you feel about coming away with the Hardcore Title at Ultimate Showdown? Has there been a little tension in the Everest locker room due to the result of the match?’
‘Disappointed. I have proven I am a much more capable competitor, far above holding a mid-card belt like the Hardcore Title. That being said, I am prepared to do whatever I need to do to help elevate the belt and make it a prized attraction. However, in the long run, I am only here for one thing and one thing only – the World Title. I would be a fool to grow complacent simply by coming away with a title at Showdown.
‘And the Everest locker room? Well, I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been awkward in their recently. I haven’t been there much, but between the founding group in myself, Sanchez and Singh? We’re all very egotistical, if you haven’t been able to tell, and we’ve all been vying for the top prize. Naturally, there’d be a little tension there. But at the end of the day, we’re all professionals, and we all went into Showdown knowing that one of us would be walking out with the World in our hands. It just so happened that Steve had been the one to make the most of the opportunity. Next?’
‘Mr. King, I still have another question.’
‘Go on.’
‘Are you worried at all that you might drop the belt to FPV at Revenge, delegitimizing it after the incredible run Andre Holmes had with it?’
‘Remember what I said a moment ago about growing complacent? Well, that’s one thing that Mr. Venable has always been upon achieving even the slightest amount of respect. Do you remember how much he flaunted being the TV Champion of 2016? Do you remember how that had become the one big crowning point he had during the entire year? Shortly after dropping that belt, he became nothing, just a veteran presence in a lackluster group in The Brotherhood. A stable he had been forced to join after losing in a match to a mid-card curtain jerker in Kevin Bishop, one of Everest’s bitches.
‘Make no mistake about it, FPV is the pinnacle of complacency. For a man who always speaks of doing things for the fans, and being someone who goes against all the ‘bad’ in the federation, FPV dips out during key and crucial moments after he’s had his fair share of success. After losing the TV Title, he flopped against Jared Holmes in one of the biggest matches at Thirteen. Only when he beat David in a gimmick ladder match to become the holder of Final Destination did he regain any sort of spark that he had lost after becoming demoralized by Sebastian Knight. After that, he cashed in on a weak, transitional champion in Jason O’Neal, and then managed to have yet another uninspired run with the Big One (his second of his career, mind you) in which he ended up dropping the belt to the same man that ruined him at Thirteen in Jared Holmes. It’s odd to think that FPV tries to come off as one of the most determined men on the roster, yet when the going gets tough, he always seems to flake under the pressure of being faced with more advanced, talented competition. Hey, that’s probably why he avoided taking a rematch against David for the Final Destination briefcase – he knew he couldn’t get lucky twice.
‘After that, Frank kind of fell off the face of the planet again. He lost all motivation, he became content to just float around and do whatever he wanted… the TRUE showing of a hero of the people, am I right? Honestly, it’s a fucking wonder that people still like him, even when they’re faced with the fact that in reality, he’s just as selfish and egocentric as every single other guy in the WCF. If we forget about that for the moment though, let’s take a look at what FPV decided to do next…
‘King of the Deathmatch. Yep, after a humiliating run with the World Title – a belt he had finally recaptured after a long break from even being considered to be a part of the main-event scene – and then decided he would enter into the King of the Deathmatch Tournament. All in the hope that he could avenge the defeat he took against Corey Black. Another money match that would allow Frank to stroke his own dick, as well as let him hopefully get another chance to put himself back on a pedestal that could lead to another World Title run. Thankfully however, he didn’t get that opportunity – unless we all wanted to see another month long reign that ended in complete tragedy.
‘Anyway, back to the point I’m trying to make here… if we’re trying to sum up the change in FPV’s mindset over the last few years, it kind of goes like this.’
He pauses, holding up a hand to his left, palm held up to the ceiling, while doing his best impersonation of FPV’s voice.
‘I’m doing this for the fans, week in and week out! That, ladies and gentlemen, was Frank Patrick Venable prior to his 2016 return.’
He then holds up his right hand, in the same way he holds the left.
‘I do this when I need money, recognition, acceptance, and adulation from the people around me, because I’m a depressed fuck with a loser’s mentality who still needs wrestling as a source of support for my diminishing morale. That is current era FPV, an FPV who is lonely, an FPV who bases his whole existence off of being “liked”, “cherished” and “respected” by the fans. An FPV who is yet to come to terms with the fact that in today’s age of WCF, he is nothing but a bit player in the WCEverest.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Frank is one of the greats, and at any given moment, he can shock The World and come out with an upset victory that pushes him back up into the conversation of being one of the ‘top guys’ around. He’s done it against Dave, he’s done it against Corey Black, and there’s always the chance he could do it again.
‘But take note of what I just said. It pushes him back into the CONVERSATION, it doesn’t make him one of the top guys. And that has always been the story of Frank’s career, he’s always been the type of guy to be overlooked, the type of guy to never quite be in the upper-echelon, although he’s perennially being looked at as though he is only JUST below the level of being one of the best,.
‘But that’s the thing with Frank, he doesn’t push to be the best, he just simply isn’t determined enough to be the best. And if I’m being one hundred percent candid with you all? He just doesn’t have what it takes to be the best, whether it be with his mentality, or his levels of talent. It’s just not there. That’s not to say I’m going to be taking him lightly – in fact, I’ve made more preparation for this match than I’ve made for any other match before. I know deep down that at his absolute best, Frank can beat just about anyone…
“That’s why I’m not about to let him beat me. I’m not about to be made an example of. I have trained, I have mentally prepared myself, and I know the game-plan I need to be able to walk out with the victory and my title in hand. There’s no doubt in my mind that Frank will be coming at me with his whole arsenal, but I cannot allow myself to be plunged back into the darkness that is the WCF Lowercard.
‘In the Trios Cup, and in Ultimate Showdown, I proved that I belong in the main-event. I went toe to toe with the best of the best, and for the most part? I was the one who ended up coming out on top. I’m not about to let all of that, the momentum… the success… the confidence… I’m not about to let it all be thrown away because I slipped up and lost concentration against a guy who couldn’t even give a fuck if he was the Hardcore Champion or not.
‘I will be the man that’s carrying this belt forward into the new era, I will be the man who makes an example of anyone who dares to challenge me for it, and I will be the man who walks into WAR with this belt over my shoulder, ready and prepared to stake my claim to the main-event of ONE.
‘And do you all want to know why that is?’
He stops speaking for a moment, as if asking his own question to the crowded room, where the rows of reporters remain seated and silent.
‘It’s because I am NEVER, EVER satisfied. I don’t care how many titles I win, I don’t care how many victories I acquire, I don’t care if I’m in the main-event every week, I will NOT STOP until I have captured the World Title, and then I will go on to have one of the most respectable, memorable title reigns in recent memory. Because I do not allow myself to become complacent, I am NOT satisfied with second place, and I never will be.
‘FPV? He’s made a career out of being happy with coming second. Whether it be with the TV Title, or by finishing in the Top 8 at WAR last year. Frank has always prided himself on ‘giving it his best shot’ and ‘putting on a good performance’. And that’s the difference between the two of us.
‘He’s the type of man who will be happy to at least HOLD the World Championship, and he’s proven it twice already, through his two less than impressive reigns. But me? I am the man who plans to THRIVE when I get my hands on that championship. Because this is what everything has been leading up to, this is what I’ve been working towards ever since I returned eight months ago. This is what every victory, defeat, high, and low has been leading towards. And I’m not about to let it all go down the drain because I decided to underestimate a guy like Frank.
‘There will be no half-measures, there will be no miscalculations. I will be stepping into the ring with FPV, and I will be treating it as though it were the biggest match of my life. Because THAT is the only way you can achieve guaranteed success, and that will be why I walk away with the Hardcore Championship… and it will also be the reason Frank walks out of the arena, saying that he’s ‘happy with the performance he put in’.
‘FPV, if you’re watching, I hope you’re prepared. I hope you’re prepared to be exposed for what you really are. You’re a coward, a man who hides his problems and his true intentions behind a facade by dedicating everything he does ‘to the fans’. I’m going to show The World what you really are, for this is my duty now. The WCF doesn’t need or deserve men like you, false champions who carry themselves as though they are worth more than what they really are.
‘I hope you’re satisfied with your win over Corey Black, because this belt? It’s staying with me until I decide I don’t want it anymore.’
The passionate outburst from the Hardcore Champion prompts an applause from the amassed reporters, who seem impressed by the showing of emotion that is rarely seen from the usually indifferent Ethan King. Gavino however, doesn’t seem pleased with the outcome, leaning down next to Ethan and whispering:
‘What did I say about getting too into it?’
Ethan smirks, and whispers back.
‘Nothing like bringing a bit of excitement into these peoples’ lives, you know?’
Gavino shakes his head, but offers a polite smile to the reporters.
‘I’m hoping you all took your notes, because it appears my client has been summoned to another place of importance! We only have time for one more question. Ethan, would you do the honours?’
The reporters desperately begin to shoot their hands up once more, like schoolchildren, they attempt to stretch and raise their arms up higher than the people next to them. Ethan catches the eye of a pretty brunette reporter, who has her hair done up in a bun. Her smile lures him into calling on her.
‘You. Yes, you. What would you like to ask?’
‘What’s the plan after FPV, Ethan? What do you want to do next?’
Upon hearing the question, Ethan almost rolls his eyes. Disappointed by the unintelligent question, he frowns, but decides to answer anyway.
‘Have I not made it clear? I intend to carry forth the Hardcore Title and dominate the division until I do not have even one single challenger to clear. But along with that? I am going to win WAR. There is not one man in that match who will be hungrier than me, there is not one man who will be more prepared to outlast and outperform everyone to win that match. I’m already suffering under the knowledge that my defeat in the second biggest match of the year came due to one small error in judgement. I will not allow that to happen against in the biggest match of the year.
‘I am in the best shape of my career, and I am more concentrated than ever before. And I am going to prove that at Revenge. I will not let myself look too far into the future, I will focus on the present and the present only, and the present right now is Frank Patrick Venable.
‘You’ve had a legendary career here, Frank. One worthy of being respected, and one that I will take into account when I step into the ring with you at Revenge. You’re a crafty competitor, and one that if I take too lightly… will rip my title away from me. I won’t let that happen, I won’t allow myself to become another man who hasn’t afforded you the respect that you deserve. I’m not a David Sanchez, who’ll treat you like you’re nothing and then be completely overwhelmed when you turn up the heat. I’m a hungrier, more athletic, and more focused competitor than David, and you know what?
‘I can be just as savage when I need to be.
‘Good luck, Frank. You’ve done well to pick your game up to an even higher level since returning. But all of that? It’s all about to come crashing down. The signs have been showing for a while, and now? It’s about time I put your little streak to an end.
‘There is no chance I will allow you to humiliate me by taking my title, and then ruining its reputation.
‘For now, you have my full attention. And after I leave you a broken, bloody, and scarred mess in the middle of that ring? I will finish what I started eight months ago.’
He stands up from his seat, taking another sip of the water bottle before pacing off the stage and disappearing through the doorway he entered from. The reporters applause for him once more, before scampering off themselves, filing out through a separate doorway, leaving a mess of chairs and papers behind them. Gavino and Ethan walk through the hallway and come out to the front of the venue.
‘Well, that was interesting to say the least.’
‘Too far, you think?’
‘Not exactly what I wanted if I’m being honest. But at least you’re not taking your match lightly. You have a goal to accomplish, after all.’
“That being?’
‘Why, The World, of course.’
With that, he waves at Ethan, before beginning to walk off into the night, briskly walking across the street.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Well, I lied when I said YOU were the one that had been summoned, clearly. I’ve got more business I need to get a handle on.’
Ethan sighs, as he watches his manager cross the street, and then disappear around a corner. He’ll have to order himself another taxi, which he doesn’t mind – he’d rather be alone than deal with the constant pestering of his agent.
About an hour later, after getting a taxi to his location and then catching it back to his apartment, he receives a message on his phone. Confused, he navigates to the message area of his phone.
Tell me, Ethan. What do you value more?
Loyalty or Love?
Unsure of why he is being asked the question, he opens the door to his apartment and then quickly walks inside, dropping his belongings on a leather couch in front of a television, and propping his elbows up on the kitchen counter.
A few seconds later, he receives an image, not a message. For a moment, the image is grainy and unidentifiable, but after it loads up and becomes clear? The World begins to warp before his very eyes.
Cara Segreti and Kyle Atticio.
His former lover, and his sister.
Both are inside the same room, but neither of them are smiling, bickering as though they themselves were two sisters. Instead, they both were ensnared by ropes that attached them to chairs in an otherwise empty room, with black tapes across their mouths that prevented them from speaking.
Ethan blinked once, twice, three times, to ensure he wasn’t just dreaming up what he saw before his very eyes. But then he came to the inevitable conclusion…
It was them.
This was real.
Rage had not been something Ethan Atticio often felt. Ever since escaping from Mexico, he considered himself to be someone who was usually indifferent to The World around him, someone that could be relied upon to remain composed under pressure.
But now? He saw nothing but red.
Blood Red.
He made no text back to whoever it had been that sent him the image, but a fire had begun to burn brightly within him, giving him a newfound spirit that he had been lacking in recent times. Seeing both his sister and his once beloved girlfriend with no hope of escape… it gave him the sense that he was the flaring beacon of hope.
They were his responsibility, one that he had ignored for far too long.
And now that he knew what he had allowed to happen? He felt nothing but a severe wrath coursing through him.
One that he would use against everyone and anyone that stood in his way.