Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2015 22:29:46 GMT -6
Ringing...
That god damned ringing....
That loud drawn out sound, combined with stars in his eyes...
That was the only sound that Tristan could hear, it was all he could see. Honestly he didn’t know what happened, he remembered countering Al’s GBE, only to end up in it again. But he knew it didn’t connect, Al didn’t fall with him, That son of a bitch must have let him go, must have just let him fall on his head. He felt Al’s arm slide over him, and the ref make the count. He went to kick out, but he couldn’t move, literally he had no control over his body...
He was dazed and confused, and a sharp pain coursed through his body, shooting down his arm.
So many questions were going through his mind... Was he paralyzed? Was this the last time he would ever get to wrestle? Shaking those thoughts from his head, he started looking around, he saw Jesse enter the ring, whatever business he had with Envy, it wasn’t his concern... Once again he attempted to roll out of the ring, sighing out of relief when his body moved with his efforts, It was scary, and things usually didn’t get Ambrose scared.
He gingerly walked around, trying to find his footing feeling the pressure on his head, But he also felt a sharp sting in his left arm as it started getting numb. He knew that he was possibly concussed as well, which was not a good thing going into Terrordome. Terrordome in itself was a injury prone match, hell last time he was in this match, he was almost killed by Nocturnal when he, along with Blair was thrown out of Terrordome and fell straight to the floor.
Ambrose wouldn’t forget it... He would never forget.
He saw Hunter enter the ring and start attacking Al and Jesse. Ambrose just continued to walk, because he didn’t care if Al’s arm got broken, or Jesse got his skull cracked. He didn’t care about anyone else in Terrordome, because in this match, no one cared for him.
The underdog.... the one that shouldn’t be there, the one that doesn’t deserve it. The one that should be curtain jerking Justice, not main eventing it. Tristan knew the words that they spoke behind his back. He didn’t care for the words of the past. Hunter Valentyne likes to go on like he is the best thing that has ever happen to NEW, and how Jesse begged him to be in NEW and in Terrordome because members like Triple X, Vanessa, Cera, Nocturnal, Inkt, Johnny Stylez, they all didn’t have it anymore, they were all washed up, He likes to walk around here like he owns the place, too bad he doesn’t, to bad he is gonna see that he is the bitch that everyone knows he is.
Because deep down inside him, he knows it too.
Shit just looking at him standing in the ring as he boosted his already inflated ego. He truly thinks that he’s better than everyone in this match.... When really he’s someone who’s in a desperate struggle to stay relevant, to be remembered, if you want proof of that, look at his stupid fucking shirt.
But there he stood in the ring as Ambrose stared a hole thru him, He didn’t hear the clanking on the ramp till it was too late, and before he knew it, he was once again face down on the ramp holding his throbbing head....all at the hands of Rob Riot.
And that was it, that was the go home show to Justice, our biggest show of the year. Yeah, his is going great, just fucking fantastic....
Ambrose slowly rose, looking at his Terrordome opponents all in one view, minus the broken champion. Looking down at the ramp, hands on his knees, taking a breath as he shoved himself fully upward. He squinted at the increased throbbing that ensued after his movement, as he walked backwards up the ramp and through the curtain.
Grabbing some of the tarp to hold himself up, he sucked in a painful breath.....
Tonight didn’t go how he wanted, But like he always said, you didn’t have to win every match. Just the first, the last and then those matches that defined you. This was one of the matches that defined Tristan Ambrose. But Al’s botch seriously fucked him up for a moment, the few seconds of not being able to move felt like a lifetime, combined with the throbbing in his head made him wonder if he was walking into Justice with a target.
He stayed extra at the arena to get looked over, and after a while it was determined that he had a stinger, or a pinched nerve, and that wasn’t good for Justice. Stingers can make you feel weaker than you have have before, along with numbing... Point being It made getting the championship really hard from his perspective. The doctor wrapped it up, and Ambrose was on his merry way, roaming the halls.. One thing he did notice, was how non injured Rob Riot and Hunter were, It didn’t make sense were the two most hated members of this match weren’t already feeling the fire that this match produced.
Tristan, still wobbly on his feet, started to make his way to his locker room, which just so happened to be past Hunter, and Rob’s respective rooms. Leaning against the wall, he was still not feeling the best, he certainly was not up for a fight in his condition. Looking around the quiet hallway, he found a pipe. Listening intently for any sign of life, he moved slowly towards his door. Poking the pipe in both Valentyne and Riot’s rooms, but nothing, not even the shower was going. Sighing out of relief, he made his way towards the door, Only to hear Alexander on the phone.
"I- No sir list-."
"No Alexander you listen to me you little shit, I gave you Ambrose, I allowed you to represent US! Infamous Inc, not being the advocate for a damned fool like Tristan Ambrose.”
“So I-I--I.....”
"I fucking what...."
"After the last deal went south, I don’t know if he is open to talk with you guys again."
"Oh you just let us worry about changing his mind, I get the feeling that he might even beg to sign back with us."
"Are we done here Diaz?"
"For now..."
Alexander stopped talking as the phone hung up. Rubbing the sweat from his forehead, standing up and straightening out his suit. He figured that he should go check on Ambrose in the trainer’s room, since he hadn’t heard anything from him, only the second he opened the door Ambrose slowly made his way in and slammed the door.
The room’s air suddenly became thick, and tension flew throughout the room, as Ambrose slowly made steps toward Alexander, all the while Alexander is trying to explain that it isn’t what he heard..
"So right now, I want an answer to what the fuck I just heard. I told you no more Infamous Inc, no Diaz, none of that fucking shit and what do I hear behind closed doors??!"
“What?!?! No, Ambrose you're being paranoid. It seriously isn't what it sounds like.”
Looking down, and assessing the situation, Tristan did have a pipe, and he was coming after his manager, what fucking sense did it make to kill the messenger. But then again, Diaz did take millions from him.
“What does he want."
“He wants you back in the fold with Infamous Inc, Sounded like he didn’t wanna take “No” option either.”
“And what if I do wanna take the no option, the fuck is he gonna do about it?”
“Look I have known Jeremy for years, we go way back and he was the one that landed me the job as your advocate, but he is ruthless, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, he isn’t afraid to rule by fear and pain.”
"Yea... Well I like fear and pain. It’s the mindset that I gotta have going into Terrordome. I need to be in the mood to remove flesh from the body, break a few bones, shatter a few teeth, I need to be in the zone if I wanna have a chance.
“You’ve been there before, you know what it feels like, But so has Al, and Hunter. Add in Al’s shoudler injury, and Hunter, well... being Hunter, I’d say that you have an advantage over most of your Terrordome opposition. “
“Nah... Look I know you have connections with Diaz, I need you to keep on him for me, make sure he isn’t up to no good.”
“What about you?”
"I’ve survived this long on luck, I don’t think it’s run out just yet. Look I'll call you when I leave town."
"Alright...."
Alexander walks over and shakes Ambrose’s hand, before nodding and heading for the parking lot, Tristan made a mental note to figure out what Diaz’s goal was, he obviously has one, getting Tristan Ambrose back inside the Infamous fold, a place that Ambrose had no desire to be in.
After a shower, which he will admit calmed the nerves of his neck and arm, He came out and slipped on street clothes, which was really just a shirt over his ring attire. Zipping the last of his items into his bag, he stopped and took a moment to just take in the silence, he exited to the parking lobby, looking for his car. Which really wasn't hard, considering that there isn't much talent at these special Ignite events, being that there is only one match tonight. Tossing his bag inside his back seat, he shut the door and hopped in the front seat.
Driving in beautiful Chicago, Tristan calculated the route to the hotel he booked in Minnesota, he also didn't feel like driving tonight, pulling into a local Mcdonalds parking lot, he debated going in and getting something to eat , but he decided that a good night's sleep might help the throbbing... As he reclined the seat and shut his car off he noticed he had three missed calls. Two from an unknown number and one from Alexander.
Calling his voicemail, he clicked the correct buttons to hear his new messages
"You have one new voicemail."
-Beep-
"Tristan, I tried to get him off your back, I really did. He seems hellbent on gaining your employment again. I'm sorry that this happened, I'm sorry he got them involved...."
Them?
"Riley...."
Tristan dialed her number to no answer, he tried a few more times and still nothing.
"DAMMIT!"
A few moments later, the unknown number called again, to which he was eerie to pick up.. After it rang a few times, Tristan answered.
"Who the hell are you....?"
"Oh Tristan...... I know you didn't forget our last meeting."
"Diaz... Where are they...?"
"Oh they are safe and sound. See here is the deal I need from you for their freedom"
Ambrose felt helpless against Jeremy, his tricks and corporate greed made him feel unstoppable. Really Ambrose didn't have a choice. Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, It left a cringe on his neck, He didn't wanna accept, but he wasn't gonna let them get hurt because of his old stubborn pride. Looking out the window with not a lot of happiness in his tone, He decided to heard Diaz out.
"Look Tristan, it's really simple. Sign a new deal with us and then we let one of them go."
"One? What about the other?"
"Oh, see your in Terrordome, and that gives you an opportunity to save the other. I want you to win the NEW World Heavyweight Championship. Do that and you save the other girl. It's really simple Ambrose, the ball is in your court... We... await your decision."
Fuck...
Everything about the current situation was fucked...
Sitting in the car, he knew what he had to do. He sadly was going to sign with Diaz and Infamous Inc, he didn't have a choice in the matter at this point, he had exhausted all of his options and the girls were in his possession. There was nothing to be done, He would get the paperwork faxed to Alexander at a later time, being as he also wants Tristan to bring the World Title into the fold. It was total bullshit, he felt cheated, disgusted tat he had allowed harm to come to Riley and her daughter. And all he has to do, is win.
His presser levels were being tested, and by the grace of god, he was trying his hardest to not that the road Austen took and drive this car into a fucking tree... But he wasn't weak like Austen... He wasn't a bitch like Austen.... He was a fighter and fighters don't quit...
Ambrose shot the unknown number a text, telling him that he would sign, After that, Ambrose put down the phone.
The night surrounded him, and the long darkness of sleep overcame him, despite the fact He had a mountain full of stress, Tristan was able to sleep.
The next day was a bummer, as he began to tear down the highway on his way to Minnesota, Alexander had signed as witness on the contract.. All it needed was Ambrose's signature and he once again would be an employee of Jeremy Diaz. He didn't have any words really to describe how pissed off he was. Not only did he have the biggest match of his career at Justice, he is also going to be fighting to save two people, and he was going to do it all on his own, no Alexander, none of that shit, Just him locked in their with them.
He continued to drive, lost in his thoughts, looking for solutions to all of these issues. Terrordome, Jeremy Diaz, and everything that combined them together, it was enough to make him wanna explode, but he was alright, he could handle the fire, and dish it back out as well... The ones that said he had no place here in this match, in this federation, they would be proven wrong.
Ambrose slowly increased his speed, passing a slower vehicle, to be honest, he longed to just get into that hotel bed and pass out again, he needed sleep, it was something that he wasn't getting a lot of. It seemed like all the Terrordome competitors were looking more and more like shit everyday, with Austen looking how he does, Al and his shoulder, Hunter and Rob and their personal pissing contest, and Ambrose with his head, which was getting better, the stinger scare wasn't over tho, there was still a risk that he was risking some further injury to his neck and arm. The sharp pain followed by the numbing of his arm almost cause him to drive off the road, he had never felt something like that before, and holy fuck he didn't wanna feel it anymore.
He needed to stop for a moment to process everything that was happening... So much was going on that he really didn't have a solid grasp on it.
He drove into a rest stop and got out, instantly grabbing the fucking nerve he thought was pinched, and he started rubbing it, trying to get the pain away. Just like the first time he fought in Terrordome, it was all about survival, which he barely did.
Tristan, started to make his way back to the car, placing his hands on the side holding onto the door for leverage. To be perfectly honest, he shouldn't be driving with the nerve being pinched. As the pain subsided, Tristan dug out his phone and called Alexander, who after a few rings, answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey..."
“So I-I--I.....”
"I know your sorry about how things went down, but hey, what are you going to do"
"He said that he really wasn't gonna hurt them, and that he was simply playing to get your attention."
"Well it fucking worked..."
"We gotta stop him, Alexander find me a way to get him taken down."
"You got it man, I'll look for anything that might help, but I can't make any promises..."
"Nah I wouldn't expect you too. Take care Alex. "
Ambrose hung up the call and stretched before he got back in the car, a nice cool temperature coming from A/C made the trip to Minnesota, that is a severe change, going from the "Windy City" to Minneapolis, but never the less. He was still very far from his destination, but he'd be their soon. Just like he was going to be a Terrordome with Al Envy, Hunter Valentyne, Rob Riot.... He was smiling ear to ear at the violent possibilities.
No longer will he be looked at as a joke after this week, after Justice everyone will know the name of Tristan Ambrose, and what hell he endured, the chaos that he caused... for them. He was gonna do it, he was gonna win Terrordome, he was gonna set them free... he was gonna be champion.. Just as long as he kept repeating that in his brain, he seriously might just fucking do it....
But of course, there were so many questions left unsolved. Is Ambrose even 75% ready for Terrordome? Even when half the field is weighed down with injuries, it doesn't matter.... He is still gonna be there. He is gonna show that he isn't an after thought, he isn't going to be lost cause. He is going to become the greatest World Heavyweight Champion that NEW has ever scene and why?
Because he's tired of people like Hunter and Riot, Al and Austen telling him that he is a piece of shit knockoff, that he is a never was, never will be. FUCK THAT! The look on their collective face is gonna be priceless when they are stopped from winning.... thanks to Tristan Ambrose. When they realized that they lost, thanks to Tristan Ambrose, when they all look up and see Tristan Ambrose with the fucking World Championship, only then will they finally know, Tristan Ambrose wasn't the underdog in this match..... He was the fucking favorite.
He will win...
He'll set them free...
He'll become... World Heavyweight Champion.
That god damned ringing....
That loud drawn out sound, combined with stars in his eyes...
That was the only sound that Tristan could hear, it was all he could see. Honestly he didn’t know what happened, he remembered countering Al’s GBE, only to end up in it again. But he knew it didn’t connect, Al didn’t fall with him, That son of a bitch must have let him go, must have just let him fall on his head. He felt Al’s arm slide over him, and the ref make the count. He went to kick out, but he couldn’t move, literally he had no control over his body...
He was dazed and confused, and a sharp pain coursed through his body, shooting down his arm.
So many questions were going through his mind... Was he paralyzed? Was this the last time he would ever get to wrestle? Shaking those thoughts from his head, he started looking around, he saw Jesse enter the ring, whatever business he had with Envy, it wasn’t his concern... Once again he attempted to roll out of the ring, sighing out of relief when his body moved with his efforts, It was scary, and things usually didn’t get Ambrose scared.
He gingerly walked around, trying to find his footing feeling the pressure on his head, But he also felt a sharp sting in his left arm as it started getting numb. He knew that he was possibly concussed as well, which was not a good thing going into Terrordome. Terrordome in itself was a injury prone match, hell last time he was in this match, he was almost killed by Nocturnal when he, along with Blair was thrown out of Terrordome and fell straight to the floor.
Ambrose wouldn’t forget it... He would never forget.
He saw Hunter enter the ring and start attacking Al and Jesse. Ambrose just continued to walk, because he didn’t care if Al’s arm got broken, or Jesse got his skull cracked. He didn’t care about anyone else in Terrordome, because in this match, no one cared for him.
The underdog.... the one that shouldn’t be there, the one that doesn’t deserve it. The one that should be curtain jerking Justice, not main eventing it. Tristan knew the words that they spoke behind his back. He didn’t care for the words of the past. Hunter Valentyne likes to go on like he is the best thing that has ever happen to NEW, and how Jesse begged him to be in NEW and in Terrordome because members like Triple X, Vanessa, Cera, Nocturnal, Inkt, Johnny Stylez, they all didn’t have it anymore, they were all washed up, He likes to walk around here like he owns the place, too bad he doesn’t, to bad he is gonna see that he is the bitch that everyone knows he is.
Because deep down inside him, he knows it too.
Shit just looking at him standing in the ring as he boosted his already inflated ego. He truly thinks that he’s better than everyone in this match.... When really he’s someone who’s in a desperate struggle to stay relevant, to be remembered, if you want proof of that, look at his stupid fucking shirt.
But there he stood in the ring as Ambrose stared a hole thru him, He didn’t hear the clanking on the ramp till it was too late, and before he knew it, he was once again face down on the ramp holding his throbbing head....all at the hands of Rob Riot.
And that was it, that was the go home show to Justice, our biggest show of the year. Yeah, his is going great, just fucking fantastic....
Ambrose slowly rose, looking at his Terrordome opponents all in one view, minus the broken champion. Looking down at the ramp, hands on his knees, taking a breath as he shoved himself fully upward. He squinted at the increased throbbing that ensued after his movement, as he walked backwards up the ramp and through the curtain.
Grabbing some of the tarp to hold himself up, he sucked in a painful breath.....
Tonight didn’t go how he wanted, But like he always said, you didn’t have to win every match. Just the first, the last and then those matches that defined you. This was one of the matches that defined Tristan Ambrose. But Al’s botch seriously fucked him up for a moment, the few seconds of not being able to move felt like a lifetime, combined with the throbbing in his head made him wonder if he was walking into Justice with a target.
He stayed extra at the arena to get looked over, and after a while it was determined that he had a stinger, or a pinched nerve, and that wasn’t good for Justice. Stingers can make you feel weaker than you have have before, along with numbing... Point being It made getting the championship really hard from his perspective. The doctor wrapped it up, and Ambrose was on his merry way, roaming the halls.. One thing he did notice, was how non injured Rob Riot and Hunter were, It didn’t make sense were the two most hated members of this match weren’t already feeling the fire that this match produced.
Tristan, still wobbly on his feet, started to make his way to his locker room, which just so happened to be past Hunter, and Rob’s respective rooms. Leaning against the wall, he was still not feeling the best, he certainly was not up for a fight in his condition. Looking around the quiet hallway, he found a pipe. Listening intently for any sign of life, he moved slowly towards his door. Poking the pipe in both Valentyne and Riot’s rooms, but nothing, not even the shower was going. Sighing out of relief, he made his way towards the door, Only to hear Alexander on the phone.
"I- No sir list-."
"No Alexander you listen to me you little shit, I gave you Ambrose, I allowed you to represent US! Infamous Inc, not being the advocate for a damned fool like Tristan Ambrose.”
“So I-I--I.....”
"I fucking what...."
"After the last deal went south, I don’t know if he is open to talk with you guys again."
"Oh you just let us worry about changing his mind, I get the feeling that he might even beg to sign back with us."
"Are we done here Diaz?"
"For now..."
Alexander stopped talking as the phone hung up. Rubbing the sweat from his forehead, standing up and straightening out his suit. He figured that he should go check on Ambrose in the trainer’s room, since he hadn’t heard anything from him, only the second he opened the door Ambrose slowly made his way in and slammed the door.
The room’s air suddenly became thick, and tension flew throughout the room, as Ambrose slowly made steps toward Alexander, all the while Alexander is trying to explain that it isn’t what he heard..
"So right now, I want an answer to what the fuck I just heard. I told you no more Infamous Inc, no Diaz, none of that fucking shit and what do I hear behind closed doors??!"
“What?!?! No, Ambrose you're being paranoid. It seriously isn't what it sounds like.”
Looking down, and assessing the situation, Tristan did have a pipe, and he was coming after his manager, what fucking sense did it make to kill the messenger. But then again, Diaz did take millions from him.
“What does he want."
“He wants you back in the fold with Infamous Inc, Sounded like he didn’t wanna take “No” option either.”
“And what if I do wanna take the no option, the fuck is he gonna do about it?”
“Look I have known Jeremy for years, we go way back and he was the one that landed me the job as your advocate, but he is ruthless, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, he isn’t afraid to rule by fear and pain.”
"Yea... Well I like fear and pain. It’s the mindset that I gotta have going into Terrordome. I need to be in the mood to remove flesh from the body, break a few bones, shatter a few teeth, I need to be in the zone if I wanna have a chance.
“You’ve been there before, you know what it feels like, But so has Al, and Hunter. Add in Al’s shoudler injury, and Hunter, well... being Hunter, I’d say that you have an advantage over most of your Terrordome opposition. “
“Nah... Look I know you have connections with Diaz, I need you to keep on him for me, make sure he isn’t up to no good.”
“What about you?”
"I’ve survived this long on luck, I don’t think it’s run out just yet. Look I'll call you when I leave town."
"Alright...."
Alexander walks over and shakes Ambrose’s hand, before nodding and heading for the parking lot, Tristan made a mental note to figure out what Diaz’s goal was, he obviously has one, getting Tristan Ambrose back inside the Infamous fold, a place that Ambrose had no desire to be in.
After a shower, which he will admit calmed the nerves of his neck and arm, He came out and slipped on street clothes, which was really just a shirt over his ring attire. Zipping the last of his items into his bag, he stopped and took a moment to just take in the silence, he exited to the parking lobby, looking for his car. Which really wasn't hard, considering that there isn't much talent at these special Ignite events, being that there is only one match tonight. Tossing his bag inside his back seat, he shut the door and hopped in the front seat.
Driving in beautiful Chicago, Tristan calculated the route to the hotel he booked in Minnesota, he also didn't feel like driving tonight, pulling into a local Mcdonalds parking lot, he debated going in and getting something to eat , but he decided that a good night's sleep might help the throbbing... As he reclined the seat and shut his car off he noticed he had three missed calls. Two from an unknown number and one from Alexander.
Calling his voicemail, he clicked the correct buttons to hear his new messages
"You have one new voicemail."
-Beep-
"Tristan, I tried to get him off your back, I really did. He seems hellbent on gaining your employment again. I'm sorry that this happened, I'm sorry he got them involved...."
Them?
"Riley...."
Tristan dialed her number to no answer, he tried a few more times and still nothing.
"DAMMIT!"
A few moments later, the unknown number called again, to which he was eerie to pick up.. After it rang a few times, Tristan answered.
"Who the hell are you....?"
"Oh Tristan...... I know you didn't forget our last meeting."
"Diaz... Where are they...?"
"Oh they are safe and sound. See here is the deal I need from you for their freedom"
Ambrose felt helpless against Jeremy, his tricks and corporate greed made him feel unstoppable. Really Ambrose didn't have a choice. Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, It left a cringe on his neck, He didn't wanna accept, but he wasn't gonna let them get hurt because of his old stubborn pride. Looking out the window with not a lot of happiness in his tone, He decided to heard Diaz out.
"Look Tristan, it's really simple. Sign a new deal with us and then we let one of them go."
"One? What about the other?"
"Oh, see your in Terrordome, and that gives you an opportunity to save the other. I want you to win the NEW World Heavyweight Championship. Do that and you save the other girl. It's really simple Ambrose, the ball is in your court... We... await your decision."
Fuck...
Everything about the current situation was fucked...
Sitting in the car, he knew what he had to do. He sadly was going to sign with Diaz and Infamous Inc, he didn't have a choice in the matter at this point, he had exhausted all of his options and the girls were in his possession. There was nothing to be done, He would get the paperwork faxed to Alexander at a later time, being as he also wants Tristan to bring the World Title into the fold. It was total bullshit, he felt cheated, disgusted tat he had allowed harm to come to Riley and her daughter. And all he has to do, is win.
His presser levels were being tested, and by the grace of god, he was trying his hardest to not that the road Austen took and drive this car into a fucking tree... But he wasn't weak like Austen... He wasn't a bitch like Austen.... He was a fighter and fighters don't quit...
Ambrose shot the unknown number a text, telling him that he would sign, After that, Ambrose put down the phone.
The night surrounded him, and the long darkness of sleep overcame him, despite the fact He had a mountain full of stress, Tristan was able to sleep.
The next day was a bummer, as he began to tear down the highway on his way to Minnesota, Alexander had signed as witness on the contract.. All it needed was Ambrose's signature and he once again would be an employee of Jeremy Diaz. He didn't have any words really to describe how pissed off he was. Not only did he have the biggest match of his career at Justice, he is also going to be fighting to save two people, and he was going to do it all on his own, no Alexander, none of that shit, Just him locked in their with them.
He continued to drive, lost in his thoughts, looking for solutions to all of these issues. Terrordome, Jeremy Diaz, and everything that combined them together, it was enough to make him wanna explode, but he was alright, he could handle the fire, and dish it back out as well... The ones that said he had no place here in this match, in this federation, they would be proven wrong.
Ambrose slowly increased his speed, passing a slower vehicle, to be honest, he longed to just get into that hotel bed and pass out again, he needed sleep, it was something that he wasn't getting a lot of. It seemed like all the Terrordome competitors were looking more and more like shit everyday, with Austen looking how he does, Al and his shoulder, Hunter and Rob and their personal pissing contest, and Ambrose with his head, which was getting better, the stinger scare wasn't over tho, there was still a risk that he was risking some further injury to his neck and arm. The sharp pain followed by the numbing of his arm almost cause him to drive off the road, he had never felt something like that before, and holy fuck he didn't wanna feel it anymore.
He needed to stop for a moment to process everything that was happening... So much was going on that he really didn't have a solid grasp on it.
He drove into a rest stop and got out, instantly grabbing the fucking nerve he thought was pinched, and he started rubbing it, trying to get the pain away. Just like the first time he fought in Terrordome, it was all about survival, which he barely did.
Tristan, started to make his way back to the car, placing his hands on the side holding onto the door for leverage. To be perfectly honest, he shouldn't be driving with the nerve being pinched. As the pain subsided, Tristan dug out his phone and called Alexander, who after a few rings, answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey..."
“So I-I--I.....”
"I know your sorry about how things went down, but hey, what are you going to do"
"He said that he really wasn't gonna hurt them, and that he was simply playing to get your attention."
"Well it fucking worked..."
"We gotta stop him, Alexander find me a way to get him taken down."
"You got it man, I'll look for anything that might help, but I can't make any promises..."
"Nah I wouldn't expect you too. Take care Alex. "
Ambrose hung up the call and stretched before he got back in the car, a nice cool temperature coming from A/C made the trip to Minnesota, that is a severe change, going from the "Windy City" to Minneapolis, but never the less. He was still very far from his destination, but he'd be their soon. Just like he was going to be a Terrordome with Al Envy, Hunter Valentyne, Rob Riot.... He was smiling ear to ear at the violent possibilities.
No longer will he be looked at as a joke after this week, after Justice everyone will know the name of Tristan Ambrose, and what hell he endured, the chaos that he caused... for them. He was gonna do it, he was gonna win Terrordome, he was gonna set them free... he was gonna be champion.. Just as long as he kept repeating that in his brain, he seriously might just fucking do it....
But of course, there were so many questions left unsolved. Is Ambrose even 75% ready for Terrordome? Even when half the field is weighed down with injuries, it doesn't matter.... He is still gonna be there. He is gonna show that he isn't an after thought, he isn't going to be lost cause. He is going to become the greatest World Heavyweight Champion that NEW has ever scene and why?
Because he's tired of people like Hunter and Riot, Al and Austen telling him that he is a piece of shit knockoff, that he is a never was, never will be. FUCK THAT! The look on their collective face is gonna be priceless when they are stopped from winning.... thanks to Tristan Ambrose. When they realized that they lost, thanks to Tristan Ambrose, when they all look up and see Tristan Ambrose with the fucking World Championship, only then will they finally know, Tristan Ambrose wasn't the underdog in this match..... He was the fucking favorite.
He will win...
He'll set them free...
He'll become... World Heavyweight Champion.