Post by John Gone on Jul 26, 2008 2:11:14 GMT -5
John Gone walks casually down the hall backstage. His duffel bag is slung over his shoulder, he’s clearly leaving the arena. The hall gets dimmer; the light gradually gets an orange tint to it as he enters the parking garage. As he enters the garage proper, he drops his bag to the ground and leans against a post. He takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. Smoke trails drearily up from the bright orange tip. The Television Championship. Smoke streams from his mouth as he exhales. Surprising as it may…heh…or may not be, I’ve never held a title as a wrestler. He shrugs. I never cared. I was always more interested in the, uh, fairer side of the promotions.
But IWF, they just keep throwing these title opportunities at me. And how appropriate that the referee for this match will be Yeh Ren. You know, I’m going to relish seeing him hit that mat three times. I’ll look him dead in the eye as it happens. And when he hands me that title belt. See, this match, it’s not just about me getting a title. It’s about Yeh Ren, it’s about him knowing his place. He is a play thing for me, a means to an end. He’s how I get what I want. He finishes the cigarette in one long drag before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with his heel.
He pushes away from the pillar and walks into the garage. His arms spread at his sides, running the tips of his fingers along the sides of the cars. It always did interest me, though, the nature of these titles everybody’s going after. You train and you fight your way through all the contenders and then you beat the champion. Then… He gets to his car. Without having to unlock it, he opens the driver door and slides in. He slams the door shut. Then what? That’s the interest. Since I never had one, I don’t know the appeal of having one. I guess I’ll find out Monday. He starts the motor and turns the headlights on. The headlights illuminate the corner of the parking garage, revealing Yeh Ren standing in front of the car.
