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Troubles
Topic Started: Dec 30 2016, 01:42 PM (76 Views)
chrisandrew

December 28th, 2016
Around 2:00 a.m.
Somewhere down Universal Boulevard.


The streets are still wet from the light rain that felt no longer than a couple of hours ago. Not exactly the weather Chris Andrew was hoping for when he planned this short holiday to the South with Mandi Morrison, his sweet girlfriend. All their plans, Disneyworld, a trip to Daytona Beach, the romantics walks on the seaside at sunset... All foiled because of this damn rain.

It's still better than Chicago...

As much as he loved spending Christmas at Mandi's house, meeting her trainer, even though he wasn't the most friendly person alive, being there for her, holding her hand as she cried over her parent's gravestone, there was always one thing that bothered him, made him feel uncomfortable. The cold. Growing up in Arizona, he's simply not used to Chicago's rigid winters. Florida sounded like a better deal to him. But the question is: What is he doing at this hour of the night, alone, walking next to one of the most traffic routes in Orlando? Hard to tell. Apparently he's just strolling, his eyes glued on his phone screen, the fingers quickly tapping the screen, typing a tweet. Or a text. After he's done with it, he turns off the screen, just to watch a green led lighting up, before he could even think to put the phone back in his pocket. Sliding his finger on the screen, he reads the message. Either it is something amusing or a particularly good news he was waiting for. Point is, a big smile crops up on his face, the same smile of the emoji he uses to reply, before putting the mobile away. Not far away from where he stands, the easily recognizable entrance of the Universal Studios theme park. Chris quickly covers the short distance that separates him from a bench placed right under the iconic arc. He takes a seat, checking his smartphone once again. There are no new notifications. He starts scrolling between the applications, looking for the YouTube icon and clicking it. As the main page opens, he clicks on the search bar, typing "Swat vs DeDraca Winter Warfare". A few moments later, a list of videos appear as the result, and he clicks on the first one, from the PW's official account. He watches the clip, paying close attention on how the Pale Queen managed to beat via count out his future opponents in Iron King's first round. The way she kept aiming at his head with her kicks, that HAS to mean something right? Could that be the weak spot of the gigantic and dangerous Big Buff Juice? With those and possibly more questions in mind, Chris Andrew fails to notice a young girl approaching him. She's wearing a pair of blue jeans, and a bright orange shirt. The most peculiar thing about her, the one that stands out is her light green hair framing her beautiful face, enlightened by a slight smile. Some might recognize her as the young promising wrestler known as Cheesecake; whether that's for her in ring work or for her outspoken attitude on social media, that's for posterity to judge. Just like the reason why they meet in the middle of the night in Orlando, while Chris' girlfriend is back in their hotel room, sleeping. When he realizes that he's no longer alone, he quickly puts the phone back in his pocket, staring at her. They both look very nervous, barely able to keep eye contact..


January 2nd 2017
0:20 a.m.
Lucky Dragon Hotel


Chris is standing at the window, looking outside. The view of the Strip is breathtaking, as per usual, with all its colored neon lights, the traffic flowing regularly, the noises... But that's not really what he is staring at. The reflection on the glass leaves no doubts, his eyes are staring into space, his mind roaming, lost in God only knows which thoughts. The rustle of Mandi rolling over under the blankets, and her soft mumbling bring him back to planet earth. He turns his head, looking back inside the room and meeting his girlfriend's sleepy eyes. She stretches, trying to wake up a bit.

Hmmm what time is it, Chris?

She's scratching her eyes, her hair are a bit messy. Nonetheless, Chris stares at her, enraptured.

How can she wake up in the middle of the night and still look THIS beautiful?

I don't know babe, could be midnight, give or take

She grabs her phone from the nearby nightstand, checking the clock.

Thirty minutes after midnight... Why the hell aren't you sleeping?

Thoughts...

He goes back looking outside of the window, his hands pressed against the glass. Mandi sneaks out of the bed. She's wearing one of Chris' shirts, a black one with the "Iron King Tournament" golden logo printed on the back. Clearly, part of the promotional material her boyfriend got for entering the prestigious competition, possibly the most hyped event in Phoenix Wrestling. She walks towards the same window, ducking under his arms and leaning on his side, brushing on his body. Their eyes meet, both of them find themselves smiling. He lowers his arm, resting it on her shoulder; she leans her head against his chest, closing her eyes.

Sometimes... I just wish I could switch my brain off at night. Stop all these racing thoughts that keeps me up and just sleep, possibly for more than a couple of hours straight. Wouldn't it be much more easy living a life like Ron Swat, with no concerns at all? Maybe it's true, ignorance is bliss...

Is that what is keeping you up? Are you concerned about your match against him?

That... And Ophelia.

Hearing him mentioning Cheesecake's name makes her sighing. He looks down at her, straight into those deep brown eyes.

I'm just... worried babe...

And so am I Chris. I am worried about you.

Some long moments of silence follow Mandi's words. She stares at Chris, hoping to hear something from him. An answer that's long in coming.

You don't need to, I'm fine. Kinda...

She raises her heels, standing on tiptoes to reach out and kiss him.

You keep telling me that everything will be alright. I believe it, and you should too. Now, are you coming back to bed or should I drag you?

She grabs his hand with both hers and starts walking to the bed, pulling him. He shakes his head, smiling slightly as he follows her.



January, 3rd 2017
5:00 p.m.
Circus Circus Casino


Here we go, Ronny. The moment you so eagerly awaited is finally here.
I can see you pacing back and forth in the 10x10 padded cell you most likely live in. Or at least you should...
I can hear you repeating my name over and over, like a man obsessed. Because that's what you are...
I can imagine you drooling, while you imagine the unrepeatable things you wish you would do to me. Enjoy your delusion bud.
I can picture you smiling, so sure you got inside my mind the same way you hope to get inside my pants...
Look at me. Do I look like I'm scared? Do I look like I'm afraid of your vain threats of raping me?
Because that's what they are, vain threats. Nothing but chit chat, pointless random tweets, a mere expression of your not-so-hidden desires. Most likely, the highest form of thought your childlike mind is capable of.


He chuckles, lowering his head and shaking it from left to right.

See, it was last night that I actually said I envy you, in some way. You see, I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking over and over again about how messed up my life is, how I can't even find the time to deal with my personal matters, how my passion for this business is taking so much time of my life that I can't actually find time to nurture my friendships the way I'd love to. Hell, I can't even take my sweet time to celebrate my win over you tonight, here in Vegas,since I have a five hours drive to Mexicali, for yet another fight. As battered and bruised as I will walk out from this street fight, I'll be once again inside a ring tomorrow night, facing another huge challenge.
You see, that's how it works when you are a rookie. No matter which fight you pick, you will always be the underdog. Whether you're fighting in an independent promotion, or in one of the most renowned stages in professional wrestling, like the IKT certainly is, you will always be the kid with less experience, the one everyone look past.
And sometimes, the perfect victim to feed the resident monster. That's what many people are thinking right now. Chris Andrew won't last five minutes against Ron Swat. Some might even be looking forward to see you tearing me apart, tossing me from one side to the other of the ring, toying with me until I'll be too scared to even move... And put an end to my misery.
Well, they all better think again.


Chris smirks at the camera, patting his own cheek with his right hand.

I'm more than this pretty face Swat. I'm much more than the tight and firm ass that keeps you up at night. And I'm much more than your wet dream. In case you didn't realize it, I'm a fighter. I'm not in Phoenix Wrestling because I look good, I am here because I AM GOOD. Sure, beating Pork Chop wasn't that much of a feat, I'm perfectly aware of it. But it earned me a contract, it legitimate my presence in this company, in this tournament. You can keep dreaming of making me your bitch. After tonight, that's all you will have left. I just hope, for your own good, that you took some time away from your sexual fantasies to look up at me, and see what I'm capable of inside a ring. Because if you didn't, bro, your fate will be no different from Chop's.

He lowers his head, and the camera follows his movement, catching him as he wears a pair of black MMA fingerless gloves. A change in his usual ring attire.

Street Fight rules. Means that anything goes, it means that I can show you why I was Golden Glove in the PAL league.
Sure thing, this is something new for me, something I am not familiar, something that, I am not going to lie, I'm not ready for. But guess what? I wasn't ready to be raised by a couple of addicts, I wasn't ready to be the kid everyone avoided and looked at sideways at school. I wasn't ready to see the police dragging my mother away, even though now I consider it a lucky break, I wasn't ready to spend the rest of my childhood in a group home because NO ONE feels like adopting the son of two junkies. And I wasn't ready when a good man literally saved my life, giving it a new meaning. I've been through a lot of shit in my life, as well as some good things, and I was never ready. Ever.
Yet I always managed to find a way to survive, when I was stuck with my back in a corner, with no way out, I fought back. Tonight is no different.
The lack of rules is not going to be an advantage for you. It simply levels the plain field.
I'm young, but I'm no kid. I lack of experience, but I'm no victim. I'm 6'1'' and 205 pounds, with a big heart and an even bigger set of balls. I will be walking to that ring with my head up high and a big smile on my face and, trust me, I will walk out the same exact way.


After closing the velcro strap on the gloves, he clenches his fists and starts shadowboxing, showing a great speed of execution.

I said earlier that somehow I envy how simple your life is, how your antisocial attitude could feel like a blessing, how your clear issues shield you from the constant crap that seems to hit me day in and day out, seamlessly.
I take it back. My problems define me.
All my struggles just push me further, make me dig down deep to find the strength to go that extra mile.
All the headaches and the sleepless night I had for trying to make things right... I can't help it. That's who I am and I love it. And if my instinct to stand up for what I think it's right is making me more enemies than friends, so be it. Just like in wrestling, I'll deal with problems one by one.
Show me what you got Ron Swat. Show me that you're not a Big BLUFF Juice.


Winking at the camera, he turns on his heels and walk away. Ready for his match.
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