Post by David Alastair on Oct 26, 2006 19:06:19 GMT -5
10/26/06…
The past few weeks of my existence can be summed up with a dose of adrenaline and anxiety. I’ll put it into a quick summary to get folks up to speed with the situations I’ve gotten myself into…
After participating in the People’s Title Match a short two weeks ago, I spent the remainder of Sunday Slam packing my gear and observing Logan’s sudden entry in the Outcast/Danny Vice match. Two people vying for pride, I thought, as I headed out of the WCF Locker Room and headed out into the night. The air was crisp and cold, as started on my way. After leaving through a back entrance, I encountered a tall, dark man standing in front of my vehicle. I waved it off at first, thinking that it was a fan of some sort.
“Sorry sir, I don’t do autographs or pictures.”
The response was mere silence.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me the first time?!”
At that point, I stood toe-to-toe with the man. He looked down on me, flashing a pair of crimson eyes. I was about to stare him off, but I was blindsided with a hard right. The impact made me drop my gear and stumble back a couple of feet.
“Hey pal! What the---”
Those were the only words I could muster before meeting a fury of fists came heading my way. I dodge the first few, but fell victim to the last and perhaps the hardest thrown punch. I doubled over and hit the ground. The man then unveiled his face, and I stared back into the past.
The Crimson. This time, he donned an ugly scar that stretched across his face. He then uttered a few words, which hit me as hard as the punches he thrown at me.
"You went back on our promise. Your soul is now ours for the taking..."
For a second, my blood ran cold before being erased by a feeling of rage and hatred. I got up from my hands and knees and lunged at Crimson. I attacked with a few fists of my own, leveling the behemoth in the process. My anger didn’t stop there. Rather than allowing him to get up and having us in a stalemate, my fists kept flying, connecting with his face. The adrenaline within me erupted in a stream of ferocity. He lost consciousness and slumped over. I added insult to injury by spitting in his face.
“You’ll never take me alive…never…”
I then jumped into my Chrysler and sped off into the night. The adrenaline worn off, however, and shock set in. My head was throbbing and I journeyed to where I can recover…home.
After a couple days of self-recovery, I found myself back to the WCF Arena. This time around, I went to record a promo for the Helloween People’s Title Match against Thunder and wrestle in the Hardcore Title Match. I retraced what happened on Sunday night and found nothing. Clever pick-up job. With the traces of blood now gone, I know that he was still out there. Waiting for the next battle… A battle to which I can’t lose…
For now, that battle will need to wait.
Because I have a match to win against Thunder, and my little promo will air tomorrow. Oh, I can’t wait.
The past few weeks of my existence can be summed up with a dose of adrenaline and anxiety. I’ll put it into a quick summary to get folks up to speed with the situations I’ve gotten myself into…
After participating in the People’s Title Match a short two weeks ago, I spent the remainder of Sunday Slam packing my gear and observing Logan’s sudden entry in the Outcast/Danny Vice match. Two people vying for pride, I thought, as I headed out of the WCF Locker Room and headed out into the night. The air was crisp and cold, as started on my way. After leaving through a back entrance, I encountered a tall, dark man standing in front of my vehicle. I waved it off at first, thinking that it was a fan of some sort.
“Sorry sir, I don’t do autographs or pictures.”
The response was mere silence.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me the first time?!”
At that point, I stood toe-to-toe with the man. He looked down on me, flashing a pair of crimson eyes. I was about to stare him off, but I was blindsided with a hard right. The impact made me drop my gear and stumble back a couple of feet.
“Hey pal! What the---”
Those were the only words I could muster before meeting a fury of fists came heading my way. I dodge the first few, but fell victim to the last and perhaps the hardest thrown punch. I doubled over and hit the ground. The man then unveiled his face, and I stared back into the past.
The Crimson. This time, he donned an ugly scar that stretched across his face. He then uttered a few words, which hit me as hard as the punches he thrown at me.
"You went back on our promise. Your soul is now ours for the taking..."
For a second, my blood ran cold before being erased by a feeling of rage and hatred. I got up from my hands and knees and lunged at Crimson. I attacked with a few fists of my own, leveling the behemoth in the process. My anger didn’t stop there. Rather than allowing him to get up and having us in a stalemate, my fists kept flying, connecting with his face. The adrenaline within me erupted in a stream of ferocity. He lost consciousness and slumped over. I added insult to injury by spitting in his face.
“You’ll never take me alive…never…”
I then jumped into my Chrysler and sped off into the night. The adrenaline worn off, however, and shock set in. My head was throbbing and I journeyed to where I can recover…home.
After a couple days of self-recovery, I found myself back to the WCF Arena. This time around, I went to record a promo for the Helloween People’s Title Match against Thunder and wrestle in the Hardcore Title Match. I retraced what happened on Sunday night and found nothing. Clever pick-up job. With the traces of blood now gone, I know that he was still out there. Waiting for the next battle… A battle to which I can’t lose…
For now, that battle will need to wait.
Because I have a match to win against Thunder, and my little promo will air tomorrow. Oh, I can’t wait.
