| Dancing With Myself; Showdown 7 RP #1 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 29 2007, 03:47 PM (115 Views) | |
| Mike Polowy | Nov 29 2007, 03:47 PM Post #1 |
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2x Former sVo Champion
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Spring Heeled Jack arches back on the submission hold to try and apply even more pain to the back and legs of the World Champion, but after a few more seconds of agonising pain Polowy reaches out and grabs hold of the bottom ropes. There are boos all around the arena as Polowy reaches the rope, but the boos turn to cheers as the referee asks Spring Heeled Jack to break the hold only for Spring Heeled Jack to shake his head! Spring Heeled Jack holds the submission hold on for a few more seconds, before the referee threatens to disqualify him from the match and Spring Heeled Jack is finally forced to release Mike Polowy. A thick crust welds his eyelids together, urging him to go back to sleep. His brain is on fire, pounding against the walls of his skull with the ferocity of a thousand bad hangovers. And in a very real way, he is certainly hung over. Yet the previous night saw no drinking, nor drugs for The Mike Effect. There was no late night partying or post match celebrating. In fact, he hadn't even had time to shower before crashing into a cheap hotel bed for the night. No, the sVo champion isn't experiencing the hangover of a man who has had a good time, he's experiencing the hangover of a man who's seen his career flash before his eyes. For a moment, he rolls back over onto his side, listening to the voice in his head begging him for just a few more hours. He'd spent many a morning fighting against the urge to open his eyes, wanting to sleep forever. So many nights spent drinking into oblivion, praying that God would just remove him from this existence. The glamour, the fame, the money... none of it mattered in the morning. Despite himself, almost mechanically, he continues to fight. Spring Heeled Jack grabs hold of Polowy by the head and nails him with a knee to the midsection before pulling him back towards the security barrier and throwing him back over the security barrier. Mike Polowy struggles back to a standing position as Spring Heeled Jack climbs onto the top of the security barrier before leaping off and nailing a missile dropkick on Mike Polowy! Polowy goes flying to the floor as the crowd rise to their feet and cheer the high flying move from the challenger. He runs a hand through his hair as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the crusted blood still matted throughout his brown, scruffy locks. Maybe the blood was his own, or maybe it belonged to Jack. In the haze, he barely notices the difference. He shakes his head out onto the hotel floor, watching in disgust as flakes of the once crimson droplets becomes black, like a kind of unholy dandruff, collecting in piles upon the carpet. Redemption had been hell. As usual, he'd made the disastrous rookie mistake of underestimating his opponent, and the short and painless battle he'd come to expect had instead turned into a war. He glances uncomfortably to the oversized leather chair near the door, where he'd remembered throwing his car keys the night before, and manages a smile when he sees the sVo Championship resting comfortably upon the plush cushion. It takes all of his effort, but he lifts himself from the bed, his legs barely holding him up. They throb nearly as bad as the pounding inside of his skull, barely supporting his weight. Unsurprisingly, his body is broken. What scares him for than anything, though, is that so is his spirit. For Michael Polowy, professional wrestling had always been like women. It never loves you back. You can give it your heart, your soul, and your passion, but in the end it will forget you. You can shower it with love, you can give it your everything, but all it does is destroy you. Yet like a woman, it doesn't much matter. You don't quit on it, you don't give up. You just keep on loving it, and hope that one day it will return your affection. That love is what forces him out of bed every morning. That love is what makes him go back to the ring every night, and makes him keep putting on the show. This morning is no different as he throws a t-shirt on, covering the bruises smattering his upper body. It had been a rough night to say the least, but now it was time to move on. The crowd boo the offence from Polowy as he picks Spring Heeled Jack up in a suplex like move, but instead of throwing him to the mat, Polowy places Spring Heeled Jack onto the top of the turnbuckle! With Spring Heeled Jack sitting at the top of the turnbuckle, Polowy climbs up next to Spring Heeled Jack and looks for the superplex on the challenger! Spring Heeled Jack however has other ideas, as he counters with some big kidney punches to Polowy before pushing him off of the top rope to the floor! With Polowy laying infront of him Spring Heeled Jack leaps from the top rope and nails a leg drop into a cover on the sVo Champion! 1.. 2.. No! Just when everyone thought that there was a new World Champion for the sVo, Mike Polowy manages to get a shoulder up off of the mat to kick out! He reaches into the pocket of the faded leather jacket resting on the corner of the leather chair, next to his championship, producing a pack of Marlboros. In high school, his friends had always insulted him for smoking menthols. Hell, they still did. As he flicks his lighter, unsuccessfully the first two times, he thinks back on the night before with disdain. He could've done better. The cool smoke fills his lungs as he takes the first drag of the morning, unarguably always the best. He lets the smoke flow gently out his lips, before closing his mouth and letting the last of it out his nose. Last night, Spring Heeled Jack nearly had him beat. He'd given everything he had last night, and somehow that damn clown had pushed him to his limits. If it hadn't been for a few acts of desperation, he may have lost the championship. For a moment, he considers whether or not this would've been a good thing or a bad thing, but quickly puts the thought away as he shakes his head, taking another drag off the cigarette. There is a beep from the table next to the bed, coming from his cell phone. With great effort, he lumbers back to the bed and looks down at the LED screen which is now lit up. One new voicemail, the screen proudly proclaims. It's probably just Moretti mocking him for last night's trip into hell, or Jack harassing him with more cryptic bullshit about Biblical heroes or something of the sort. Regardless, he flips the phone open and dials in to his messages, putting in his pin number and waiting for the voice of his harasser. Hey there champ, it's Fazoli. Look, kid, hell of a job last night. I didn't figure you'd be up yet, but I wanted to let you know that I got a call from the front office, and they announced the card for the week. You're not gonna be happy about this, kiddo, but they're sticking you up against Stevo this week. It's a non-title match, though, and I'm sure you've got it handled. Gimme a call back when you get this. Later. Well fuck. He lets out a sigh. Fazoli was most definitely right, this was not happy news to the ears of the sVo champion. When Stevo signed with the sVo, Polowy had remembered him instantly from Dynasty Wrestling. In fact, his first DW match had been against Stevo, and he'd lost. He'd lost a lot. Sure, he'd been different back then. Green. New. He had been a rookie, and not a great one at that, but the memory remained. For a champion who already felt like his days were numbered, this match meant total disaster. It may have been a non-title match, but that didn't matter. If he were to lose to Stevo, that would threaten his credibility as a champion. And once he let that first chink into his armor set in, it would all come crashing down. The illusion of a champion is far more important than his abilities. Spring Heeled Jack sends Polowy into the ropes and then takes him down to the mat with a diamond cutter as he bounces back! Polowy's head snaps back as he hits the mat and Spring Heeled Jack tries for another cover. 1.. 2.. No! Once again Polowy somehow gets a shoulder up just when everyone thought that the match was OVER! He tosses the phone back down, before ashing his half smoked cigarette into the ashtray on the same table. Soon he would have to shower and get dressed, and then it would be off to another day in the land of illusion. This was the side no one was meant to see. This was the Michael Polowy had tried so desperately to hide from his opponent last night. Yet deep in his soul, The Mike Effect knows one thing for certain: He hasn't seen the last of Spring Heeled Jack. He puts out the remaining stub of his cigarette, running his hands through his hair. He pretends not to notice the sharp cut on his hairline, along with the sharp stinging that comes with touching it. The illusion of invincibility is hard to recreate once you've shattered it, and he refuses to acknowledge that he's been hurt. Instead, he wanders into the miniscule bathroom of the cheap hotel room, looking in the mirror. The face that looks back at him doesn't even seem to be his own anymore. He doesn't recognize the man looking back at him. He seems older, and meaner. He's not the bright eyed, excited young man he used to be, and he knows it, but deep down that scares him. He used to wrestle for the love of the game, not for the money. He didn't used to care about the titles, or the bullshit. He loved it, pure and simple, just like his father had. And now? What was he becoming? It was this doubt... this worry... that scared him to death. It was this doubt that made him aggressive. In a very real, ironic way, it was this fear deep in his soul that kept him winning matches. At Showdown, Psyko Stevo wouldn't wrestle the neurotic, self loathing Michael Polowy in the mirror today. He'd face the aggressive, angry Michael Polowy the world had come to know and hate. He would face the Michael Polowy who took out his anger on the world around him. In a way, he wouldn't face Michael Polowy at all... he would face a much more dangerous opponent. He runs the water, waiting for it to get hot before splashing it across his face, trying to wake himself up. 'THE MIKE EFFECT'! Polowy nails his signiture submission move before rolling Spring Heeled Jack over and hooking his leg. 1.. 2.. 3!! At Showdown, Michael Polowy would be facing off against himself. And Psyko Stevo would be facing a monster. |
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-The First Sanctioned Violence Organization World Champion -Winner of the Victory Cup | |
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6:55 PM Jul 11