Post by Deleted on May 18, 2015 16:02:00 GMT -6
(OOC: Okay, so my match wasn’t posted last week, so any mention of it is just made up. It isn’t hard, and Roger, if you don’t like anything, don’t take it personal, I’m not blaming anyone, but it is hard to sell your shit, when I don’t know what to sell.)
~~~~
Exactly as fucking planned......
Much to the delight of Tristan Ambrose, while it wasn’t easy, Roger Wright was beaten. The two went to war for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. Just like Tristan thought, Roger wasn’t as broken down and beaten as everyone says, hell the chair shot that he gave Roger would have knocked out most men, but that son of a bitch got up, and gave as good as he got. But it was a bloodied and battered Tristan hitting a Curb Stomp onto a chair that secured his spot in the main event of Justice..
Much to his delight, he now had a shot to recapture the title in the same match that he lost it in, Terrordome. The satanic structure that has changed the careers of many of NEW’s greats, and where stars like Triple X proved his dominance, and Roger himself wrote himself into the NEW history books.
But.... that was Justice... That was another day.. Right now, blood was splashing onto the ground of the backstage area, turning the once gray concrete floor into a splish splash pattern of red. Roger’s headbutt had split him right above the left eye, and the chairshot that followed didn’t help him.
Walking into the Trainer’s room, he grabbed a towel and sat on the bench. He placed the towel on his head, and the trainer that had followed him from the ring, unzipped his patch and slipped on his gloves.
“Split you pretty good huh?”
“He does have a hard head, that son of a bitch.”
Laughing my comment off, he opened up a case on the other side of the room and grabbed some things, which Tristan just assumed was the materials to stitch him up. Walking back, he gestured for him to lay back, as he placed his materials onto a nearby tray.
“Want me to numb it?”
“Yea, enough pain for one night...”
With that, He jammed the needle into his sides of his parted flesh, numbing what would have been a painful experience, the doctor began to sew together the split flesh. What would have been a painful few minutes, was more of an annoyance, feeling the needle pushing past his skin over and over again.. Tristan just thought of what he gained with this battle scar. He gained the retribution that he so desperately needed.
He beat Inkt, and he had beaten Roger, proving that one on one, Tristan was the better man and Roger only won the title because Nocturnal saw fit to remove him from the match all together.
But now, he would have a spot to remember Roger right on his head, and remember what would happen if he didn’t focus once he got to the top, someone would come along and knock him off the top of the mountain. As the trainer cut the extra string from the stitches, Tristan sat up and the doc cleaned up any extra blood off of him.
“Well, that oughta hold-up. Look, I don’t have to tell you that this isn’t gonna seal before the next show, you already know that. So I expect I’ll have to restitch it after the next show, so just try not re-open it till then, alright?”
“Yea, yea, you got it doc, don’t open my dome till you can get paid to fix it all up. Gotcha.”
“Whatever, Ambrose, just wait till Terrordome, I expect you’ll be waiting in line with the rest of them to get stitched, get your bones placed back where God designed them. Justice is usually NEW’s busiest night for the doctors and trainers. At least Jesse pays us well.”
“He does?”
“.... Okay he pays us well, I just think a bonus for Terrordome should be added into our contracts, right now I get paid the same amount if someone gets cut in the ring than if someone falls off Terrordome all together. It just ain’t right.”
“Sounds like it sucks, hell lose the beer-gut and become a wrestler, much better pay I’m tellin ya.”
“Hahaha, yea, that’ll be the fucking day. Anyway, your good to go Ambrose.”
“Yea, thanks doc.”
Rubbing his hair away from the stitches, he walked out of the room, making his way to get his shit and head outta here. Popping his knuckles, he made his way to the locker room. Being that he wrestled in what most people considered street clothes since coming back from his self imposed exile, all he really had to do was cut off the tape on his hands and wrists, and slip off the bloody t-shirt that he wore that night, tossing it into the trashcan. Opening the locker, he grabbed his wallet and phone, those being the only items that he wouldn’t just leave upright in his bag. Opening the bag, he pulled out a shirt and put it on, before zipping the bag and slipping it over his shoulder. He could now finally get the fuck outta here, and make his way to the big apple.
Walking out he bumped into his manager, Alexander Cappotelli, who he was gonna be traveling to New York with, as the next Ignite was to hail from the greatest sports venue that has ever graced American soil, Madison Square Garden. NEW Ignite superstars were clamoring at the fact that they would compete in this building, all of them chomping at the bit to see who was fighting who, and what was at stake...
Alex had informed him that in two weeks time, Tristan would step into the Garden for the first time, facing former NEW World Champion, Blair Buchannan, in yet another No Holds Barred match. As if Tristan wasn’t happy enough to fight inside Madison Square Garden, he got a match that he thrived in, no rules, no excuses, no limits. Smiling from ear to ear, both of them walked out of the arena.
“So how was that tonight huh, you’re knocking them down left and right man.”
“You know, it feels amazing. The feeling of Roger’s skull cracking as it slammed into the mat, No words for it man, I feel like I’m walking into a match I know I can win, that I will win.”
“You just gotta keep it up, right now, you have the momentum heading into Terrordome that you need to win, you just gotta keep taking all of the challengers down. Keep doing that, and come Justice, you should have the World Title around your waist in no time.”
“Damn straight.”
“Look I need to talk to you about the whole Styles thing..”
Tristan sighed as he opened the passenger door, not really wanting to get into this conversation.
“What is there to talk about? I said you could talk to him, say whatever you want, I don’t care. I’m not gonna kiss his ass and call him sir every time he takes a shit.”
“I’m not telling you to kiss his ass every time he takes a shit, I’m just asking to let me talk to him, maybe work out a deal..”
“Well you asked... And you know the answer, I told you, you do the talking and I’ll kick ass. It isn’t a big thing to grasp man.”
“Okay... I’ll get a meeting with him. Meanwhile, what is your strategy for Blair? She may have a reputation, but she is a very skilled member of the New Edge roster. She isn’t someone to take lightly.”
He was right, what she did outside the ring made no difference on what she did in the ring. She is a talented champion, and she was gonna be just like Roger, a fighter. A fighter that was gonna bleed, and become a scared disturbed version of what they used to be.
What Blair really was, was another memory of Terrordome that needed to be erased... In what was the last thing he did in that match, She was the one the flew out of the structure with him. And he made sure that he remembered the people in that match... Nocturnal was gone, But Roger paid for his sins, along with his own tonight, and in the greatest venue in sporting history, Blair will pay for hers.
“Just leave the fighting to me....”
The hour long drive to Detroit, Tristan slept, waking only to get on the flight to New York. When they did arrive in New York, it was 3:30 AM, to which Tristan decided that the next two days were going to be full of healing for himself , despite what people think, he didn’t just pop up from these hardcore matches, he simply didn’t do much after... hell take the stitches that were in his head right now. He didn’t wanna be lifting weights, and then boom, have blood everywhere.
---
They had been in New York, for two days, and for two days, Tristan had been getting himself back into fighting shape. In fact only the stitches were out of place from where Tristan had been a few weeks ago. He was currently downing a beer, watching some of Blair’s matches, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Nothing much, hey tell me something, does it always rain in fucking Washington?”
“Afraid so, hahaha, so what ya need?”
“Nothing much, Found your Riley chick, she’s nice, only slapped me once.”
“Why’d she slap you?”
“I don’t know, remind me not to show up in the dead of night in a hoodie.”
“Dumbass, she there?”
“Yup, Ariel and here are talkin, you need to get here and save me before they want me to do some stupid shit.”
“Ahh, Sorry man, no can do. How are the show’s goin?”
“Ehh, they are going, nothing like that NEW crowd man.. Nice match with Rog, tho I would be lying if I said that chair shot he gave you didn’t remind me of concussion city.”
“Yep, I got as good as I took... Just gotta do the same with Blair.”
“Yea, she’s a crazy bitch I’ll tell ya. Don’t underestimate her man.”
“I’ll be dead before I do... Mind putting Ry on?”
“Sure... Hold up a sec.”
Taking the fleeing second he had he finished his beer, and shut his laptop. Leaning back in the chair, he waited for Riley to get on the phone.
“Hey Tristan.”
“Hey, enjoy the company?”
“I can’t lie, I do feel safer.”
“Well that was the goal, look I’m doing what I can, I got someone looking into the whole custody thing, but seriously, stay safe till I can figure it out, It could be till after the pay per view, but I’ll fix it....”
“Thank you Ambrose..... Hey can I ask you something?”
“Shoot?”
“Why do you care so much, I mean you barely know us.”
Fuck.....
That question. He knew it would come and he didn’t wanna get to it, He didn’t have the greatest life as a child, things happened to him that shouldn’t happen, he went hungry while those under him ate, he slept on the asphalt while others slept in his bed.... It was the drugs.. it consumed his parent’s lives. He really didn’t think any kid should go through that shit, not if he could help it.
“Look... Trust me there is a reason. I’m gonna get this next show after the Garden off, then I’ll come back to Seattle.. I’ll explain everything okay?”
There was the silence that he hated.... it’s never a good thing.... never...
“Okay...”
“Alright, I’ma go... Stay safe.”
With that he hung up the call, he knew she was in good hands with Jake, and he felt better knowing that Jake was watching her, It allowed him to focus on other things, other violent things.. As he began thinking on his match with Blair, Alexander busted into the room.
“You wanna knock next time?”
“Come on, we gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“Coney Island, Jesse wants you doing press down there, promote the show, sign kid’s shirts, all that shit.”
“Aww what the fuck... Really? On a Friday?”
“Yes on a Friday, now you can hate it and go, or you fake a smile, eat a hot dog and shut the fuck up and end up going anyway. It’s your choice really.”
“You call that a fucking choice? No, not driving to Brooklyn would be a fucking choice.”
“Quit your bitching, ain’t gonna get you out of it.”
“Ugg... Fuck. Fine I’ll be down in te- Are you going to Coney Island in a suit?”
“Shut... the fuck... up. Do I tell you how to dress?”
“No.. thank fucking god. Whatever I’ll be down in a few.”
Tossing on a T-Shirt, he rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like fan interaction, but a damn near forty minute drive, was NOT how he wanted to spend his Friday. Slipping on his shoes, he slipped his room card into his wallet and walked out, heading to the car.
“See was that so bad?”
“Get fucked....”
The drive was nothing, and before he knew it, tons of people were flocking the booth that was set up for him. Kids, teens and adults alike, all chanting numerous things, as Cappotelli stopped the car behind the booth...
Walking out to face the crowd, Tristan smiled, Lifting his hands up as the crowd continued shouting chants at him.
“AMBROSE VIOLENCE!!”
“ANARCHY!!! ANARCHY!!!”
“This is the life Cappy, this is the life.”
~~~
After an hour of signing autographs for fans, shirts, posters, signs from people going to the show, all that shit. Taking his phone, he popped a picture with the crowd, some people called it a mega-selfie, but fuck ‘em.
“Alright, Intermission time ladies and gentleman! Go get a hot dog or somethin, I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Ambrose?”
“Huh? Oh, hey Brandy, what’s up.”
“Well, with Madison Square Garden being such an event, I figured an interview from here in Coney Island would be a good hype for your match with Blair. So can we just set up over here?”
“Yea, sure. Is Alexander around?”
“Jesse just wants you, plus I haven’t seen him.”
“Alright, whatever, you ready?”
“Just gotta make one more tweak and, there. Okay, just stand ri-”
“I know how to work an interview Brandy...”
“Right, okay. Three, two...... Hello fans, I’m Brandy Boss here from Coney Island and I’m standing here with the latest member to join the main event of Justice, Tristan Ambrose! Now, Ambrose.. This Ignite is taking place in one of the most historic venues of America, let alone the world, Madison Square Garden, were you are going to take on Blair Buchannan in a No Holds Barred match, any thoughts?”
“You know, I hear this is the war of the paper champions.... That she claims she is the better paper champion. To be frank, my reign lasted twenty days, while her’s lasted thirteen, it doesn’t matter, because while she was given a Heartland Championship shot and Justice, Last week I beat Roger in the middle of the ring to earn a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. I’d say I won.”
“While that is very true, you haven’t said much about the match, is there a reason to your methods.”
“Hardcore matches aren’t something people just jump up from, ya know,It does take time to heal from these matches, But that doesn’t matter, all I have to say about Blair is that she is a fighter, and she is gonna give me a run for my money, but at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, I’m heading to Terrordome, and I’m gonna win the World Heavyweight Champion.”
“Alright one final question, Since returning you have been unstoppable, running through former world champions left and right, is there a reason why you came back to NEW?”
Tristan though about the question for a second, to be honest he really didn’t have a reason. It just felt right, to come back, to regain what was rightfully his... Maybe there was something more to it than that. Maybe there was a destiny that he needed to fulfill...
“Look... I came back because I didn’t want the last image of me, being thrown from that dome... I wanna go down as one of the very best in NEW, and after Blair Buchannan, I’m gonna prove that I’m better than everyone in that Dome... Every hope, and every dream, and every fantasy that they have ever had, will be left in a bloody, broken misshapen monstrosity, and I will get my Justice, I will cut the head off of NEW and take back what was mine.... But before I get there, I’m gonna take some practice swings at Blair’s head..... You want a headline, here it is..... At Ignite, in the garden, Tristan Ambrose removes Blair from the NEW Roster, from NEW altogether... Cause I ain’t resting till her head.... IS ON A STICK!....”
~~~
Blair... You think this is a fucking game? You think you can just walk around here and get what you want, and throw catchy lines about doing it all in heels, and someone like me is just gonna take it? I’ll tell you what is gonna happen Blair, I’m gonna take that Heel and skullfuck you with it, and when you are laying in a pile of rubble that is your broken ego? I’m gonna go on to win the World Heavyweight Title...
Say your prayers, Blair....
Fear The Reaper.
~~~~
Exactly as fucking planned......
Much to the delight of Tristan Ambrose, while it wasn’t easy, Roger Wright was beaten. The two went to war for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. Just like Tristan thought, Roger wasn’t as broken down and beaten as everyone says, hell the chair shot that he gave Roger would have knocked out most men, but that son of a bitch got up, and gave as good as he got. But it was a bloodied and battered Tristan hitting a Curb Stomp onto a chair that secured his spot in the main event of Justice..
Much to his delight, he now had a shot to recapture the title in the same match that he lost it in, Terrordome. The satanic structure that has changed the careers of many of NEW’s greats, and where stars like Triple X proved his dominance, and Roger himself wrote himself into the NEW history books.
But.... that was Justice... That was another day.. Right now, blood was splashing onto the ground of the backstage area, turning the once gray concrete floor into a splish splash pattern of red. Roger’s headbutt had split him right above the left eye, and the chairshot that followed didn’t help him.
Walking into the Trainer’s room, he grabbed a towel and sat on the bench. He placed the towel on his head, and the trainer that had followed him from the ring, unzipped his patch and slipped on his gloves.
“Split you pretty good huh?”
“He does have a hard head, that son of a bitch.”
Laughing my comment off, he opened up a case on the other side of the room and grabbed some things, which Tristan just assumed was the materials to stitch him up. Walking back, he gestured for him to lay back, as he placed his materials onto a nearby tray.
“Want me to numb it?”
“Yea, enough pain for one night...”
With that, He jammed the needle into his sides of his parted flesh, numbing what would have been a painful experience, the doctor began to sew together the split flesh. What would have been a painful few minutes, was more of an annoyance, feeling the needle pushing past his skin over and over again.. Tristan just thought of what he gained with this battle scar. He gained the retribution that he so desperately needed.
He beat Inkt, and he had beaten Roger, proving that one on one, Tristan was the better man and Roger only won the title because Nocturnal saw fit to remove him from the match all together.
But now, he would have a spot to remember Roger right on his head, and remember what would happen if he didn’t focus once he got to the top, someone would come along and knock him off the top of the mountain. As the trainer cut the extra string from the stitches, Tristan sat up and the doc cleaned up any extra blood off of him.
“Well, that oughta hold-up. Look, I don’t have to tell you that this isn’t gonna seal before the next show, you already know that. So I expect I’ll have to restitch it after the next show, so just try not re-open it till then, alright?”
“Yea, yea, you got it doc, don’t open my dome till you can get paid to fix it all up. Gotcha.”
“Whatever, Ambrose, just wait till Terrordome, I expect you’ll be waiting in line with the rest of them to get stitched, get your bones placed back where God designed them. Justice is usually NEW’s busiest night for the doctors and trainers. At least Jesse pays us well.”
“He does?”
“.... Okay he pays us well, I just think a bonus for Terrordome should be added into our contracts, right now I get paid the same amount if someone gets cut in the ring than if someone falls off Terrordome all together. It just ain’t right.”
“Sounds like it sucks, hell lose the beer-gut and become a wrestler, much better pay I’m tellin ya.”
“Hahaha, yea, that’ll be the fucking day. Anyway, your good to go Ambrose.”
“Yea, thanks doc.”
Rubbing his hair away from the stitches, he walked out of the room, making his way to get his shit and head outta here. Popping his knuckles, he made his way to the locker room. Being that he wrestled in what most people considered street clothes since coming back from his self imposed exile, all he really had to do was cut off the tape on his hands and wrists, and slip off the bloody t-shirt that he wore that night, tossing it into the trashcan. Opening the locker, he grabbed his wallet and phone, those being the only items that he wouldn’t just leave upright in his bag. Opening the bag, he pulled out a shirt and put it on, before zipping the bag and slipping it over his shoulder. He could now finally get the fuck outta here, and make his way to the big apple.
Walking out he bumped into his manager, Alexander Cappotelli, who he was gonna be traveling to New York with, as the next Ignite was to hail from the greatest sports venue that has ever graced American soil, Madison Square Garden. NEW Ignite superstars were clamoring at the fact that they would compete in this building, all of them chomping at the bit to see who was fighting who, and what was at stake...
Alex had informed him that in two weeks time, Tristan would step into the Garden for the first time, facing former NEW World Champion, Blair Buchannan, in yet another No Holds Barred match. As if Tristan wasn’t happy enough to fight inside Madison Square Garden, he got a match that he thrived in, no rules, no excuses, no limits. Smiling from ear to ear, both of them walked out of the arena.
“So how was that tonight huh, you’re knocking them down left and right man.”
“You know, it feels amazing. The feeling of Roger’s skull cracking as it slammed into the mat, No words for it man, I feel like I’m walking into a match I know I can win, that I will win.”
“You just gotta keep it up, right now, you have the momentum heading into Terrordome that you need to win, you just gotta keep taking all of the challengers down. Keep doing that, and come Justice, you should have the World Title around your waist in no time.”
“Damn straight.”
“Look I need to talk to you about the whole Styles thing..”
Tristan sighed as he opened the passenger door, not really wanting to get into this conversation.
“What is there to talk about? I said you could talk to him, say whatever you want, I don’t care. I’m not gonna kiss his ass and call him sir every time he takes a shit.”
“I’m not telling you to kiss his ass every time he takes a shit, I’m just asking to let me talk to him, maybe work out a deal..”
“Well you asked... And you know the answer, I told you, you do the talking and I’ll kick ass. It isn’t a big thing to grasp man.”
“Okay... I’ll get a meeting with him. Meanwhile, what is your strategy for Blair? She may have a reputation, but she is a very skilled member of the New Edge roster. She isn’t someone to take lightly.”
He was right, what she did outside the ring made no difference on what she did in the ring. She is a talented champion, and she was gonna be just like Roger, a fighter. A fighter that was gonna bleed, and become a scared disturbed version of what they used to be.
What Blair really was, was another memory of Terrordome that needed to be erased... In what was the last thing he did in that match, She was the one the flew out of the structure with him. And he made sure that he remembered the people in that match... Nocturnal was gone, But Roger paid for his sins, along with his own tonight, and in the greatest venue in sporting history, Blair will pay for hers.
“Just leave the fighting to me....”
The hour long drive to Detroit, Tristan slept, waking only to get on the flight to New York. When they did arrive in New York, it was 3:30 AM, to which Tristan decided that the next two days were going to be full of healing for himself , despite what people think, he didn’t just pop up from these hardcore matches, he simply didn’t do much after... hell take the stitches that were in his head right now. He didn’t wanna be lifting weights, and then boom, have blood everywhere.
---
They had been in New York, for two days, and for two days, Tristan had been getting himself back into fighting shape. In fact only the stitches were out of place from where Tristan had been a few weeks ago. He was currently downing a beer, watching some of Blair’s matches, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Nothing much, hey tell me something, does it always rain in fucking Washington?”
“Afraid so, hahaha, so what ya need?”
“Nothing much, Found your Riley chick, she’s nice, only slapped me once.”
“Why’d she slap you?”
“I don’t know, remind me not to show up in the dead of night in a hoodie.”
“Dumbass, she there?”
“Yup, Ariel and here are talkin, you need to get here and save me before they want me to do some stupid shit.”
“Ahh, Sorry man, no can do. How are the show’s goin?”
“Ehh, they are going, nothing like that NEW crowd man.. Nice match with Rog, tho I would be lying if I said that chair shot he gave you didn’t remind me of concussion city.”
“Yep, I got as good as I took... Just gotta do the same with Blair.”
“Yea, she’s a crazy bitch I’ll tell ya. Don’t underestimate her man.”
“I’ll be dead before I do... Mind putting Ry on?”
“Sure... Hold up a sec.”
Taking the fleeing second he had he finished his beer, and shut his laptop. Leaning back in the chair, he waited for Riley to get on the phone.
“Hey Tristan.”
“Hey, enjoy the company?”
“I can’t lie, I do feel safer.”
“Well that was the goal, look I’m doing what I can, I got someone looking into the whole custody thing, but seriously, stay safe till I can figure it out, It could be till after the pay per view, but I’ll fix it....”
“Thank you Ambrose..... Hey can I ask you something?”
“Shoot?”
“Why do you care so much, I mean you barely know us.”
Fuck.....
That question. He knew it would come and he didn’t wanna get to it, He didn’t have the greatest life as a child, things happened to him that shouldn’t happen, he went hungry while those under him ate, he slept on the asphalt while others slept in his bed.... It was the drugs.. it consumed his parent’s lives. He really didn’t think any kid should go through that shit, not if he could help it.
“Look... Trust me there is a reason. I’m gonna get this next show after the Garden off, then I’ll come back to Seattle.. I’ll explain everything okay?”
There was the silence that he hated.... it’s never a good thing.... never...
“Okay...”
“Alright, I’ma go... Stay safe.”
With that he hung up the call, he knew she was in good hands with Jake, and he felt better knowing that Jake was watching her, It allowed him to focus on other things, other violent things.. As he began thinking on his match with Blair, Alexander busted into the room.
“You wanna knock next time?”
“Come on, we gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“Coney Island, Jesse wants you doing press down there, promote the show, sign kid’s shirts, all that shit.”
“Aww what the fuck... Really? On a Friday?”
“Yes on a Friday, now you can hate it and go, or you fake a smile, eat a hot dog and shut the fuck up and end up going anyway. It’s your choice really.”
“You call that a fucking choice? No, not driving to Brooklyn would be a fucking choice.”
“Quit your bitching, ain’t gonna get you out of it.”
“Ugg... Fuck. Fine I’ll be down in te- Are you going to Coney Island in a suit?”
“Shut... the fuck... up. Do I tell you how to dress?”
“No.. thank fucking god. Whatever I’ll be down in a few.”
Tossing on a T-Shirt, he rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like fan interaction, but a damn near forty minute drive, was NOT how he wanted to spend his Friday. Slipping on his shoes, he slipped his room card into his wallet and walked out, heading to the car.
“See was that so bad?”
“Get fucked....”
The drive was nothing, and before he knew it, tons of people were flocking the booth that was set up for him. Kids, teens and adults alike, all chanting numerous things, as Cappotelli stopped the car behind the booth...
Walking out to face the crowd, Tristan smiled, Lifting his hands up as the crowd continued shouting chants at him.
“AMBROSE VIOLENCE!!”
“ANARCHY!!! ANARCHY!!!”
“This is the life Cappy, this is the life.”
~~~
After an hour of signing autographs for fans, shirts, posters, signs from people going to the show, all that shit. Taking his phone, he popped a picture with the crowd, some people called it a mega-selfie, but fuck ‘em.
“Alright, Intermission time ladies and gentleman! Go get a hot dog or somethin, I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Ambrose?”
“Huh? Oh, hey Brandy, what’s up.”
“Well, with Madison Square Garden being such an event, I figured an interview from here in Coney Island would be a good hype for your match with Blair. So can we just set up over here?”
“Yea, sure. Is Alexander around?”
“Jesse just wants you, plus I haven’t seen him.”
“Alright, whatever, you ready?”
“Just gotta make one more tweak and, there. Okay, just stand ri-”
“I know how to work an interview Brandy...”
“Right, okay. Three, two...... Hello fans, I’m Brandy Boss here from Coney Island and I’m standing here with the latest member to join the main event of Justice, Tristan Ambrose! Now, Ambrose.. This Ignite is taking place in one of the most historic venues of America, let alone the world, Madison Square Garden, were you are going to take on Blair Buchannan in a No Holds Barred match, any thoughts?”
“You know, I hear this is the war of the paper champions.... That she claims she is the better paper champion. To be frank, my reign lasted twenty days, while her’s lasted thirteen, it doesn’t matter, because while she was given a Heartland Championship shot and Justice, Last week I beat Roger in the middle of the ring to earn a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship. I’d say I won.”
“While that is very true, you haven’t said much about the match, is there a reason to your methods.”
“Hardcore matches aren’t something people just jump up from, ya know,It does take time to heal from these matches, But that doesn’t matter, all I have to say about Blair is that she is a fighter, and she is gonna give me a run for my money, but at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, I’m heading to Terrordome, and I’m gonna win the World Heavyweight Champion.”
“Alright one final question, Since returning you have been unstoppable, running through former world champions left and right, is there a reason why you came back to NEW?”
Tristan though about the question for a second, to be honest he really didn’t have a reason. It just felt right, to come back, to regain what was rightfully his... Maybe there was something more to it than that. Maybe there was a destiny that he needed to fulfill...
“Look... I came back because I didn’t want the last image of me, being thrown from that dome... I wanna go down as one of the very best in NEW, and after Blair Buchannan, I’m gonna prove that I’m better than everyone in that Dome... Every hope, and every dream, and every fantasy that they have ever had, will be left in a bloody, broken misshapen monstrosity, and I will get my Justice, I will cut the head off of NEW and take back what was mine.... But before I get there, I’m gonna take some practice swings at Blair’s head..... You want a headline, here it is..... At Ignite, in the garden, Tristan Ambrose removes Blair from the NEW Roster, from NEW altogether... Cause I ain’t resting till her head.... IS ON A STICK!....”
~~~
Blair... You think this is a fucking game? You think you can just walk around here and get what you want, and throw catchy lines about doing it all in heels, and someone like me is just gonna take it? I’ll tell you what is gonna happen Blair, I’m gonna take that Heel and skullfuck you with it, and when you are laying in a pile of rubble that is your broken ego? I’m gonna go on to win the World Heavyweight Title...
Say your prayers, Blair....
Fear The Reaper.