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A Stitch In Time; [sd-10 RP 1]
Topic Started: Dec 26 2007, 08:24 AM (91 Views)
Mike Polowy
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2x Former sVo Champion
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All Star connects with a right of his own, then another right, and goes for a third... Polowy ducks it though! Polowy ducks the sloppy right hand from the worn out challenger and it's Polowy connecting with a boot to the midsection and... THE MIKE EFFECT! Polowy nails the Mike Effect and now it's just a matter of time!

Polowy limps over to the ladder, holding his still injured throat as he looks off at the fans, a smirk on his face. Polowy makes it to the second, then third, then fourth, then fifth run of the ladder. Johnny All Star starts to come around as Mike Polowy blows some kisses to the fans who boo him. Polowy now at the final rung... Polowy reaches up...


The match couldn't have ended sooner.

He'd done it. He'd beaten Johnny All-Star. He'd humiliated Sonny Carter. And most importantly, he'd retained the sVo Championship yet again. Though an uneasy alliance with Jimmy Moretti had shown Sonny Carter who was ultimately in charge, at least for the moment, it seemed like the war for control of the sVo was just beginning. In that moment, though, in that spotlight, he had dominated. It was official, and it couldn't be contested. He had won one for the home team. One move, one Mike Effect, and one swift climb up the steel monstrosity of a ladder, and he'd done it. The garbage in the ring and the remnants of some drunken redneck's beer all down his left side was a definite reassurance of that. A thousand thoughts similar to that could have been whipping through Polowy's brain as he trudged back up that ramp, his sVo Championship slung over his shoulder. But instead of pride, instead of glory, all he felt was the warm trickle of fluid pouring from the open gash in his head.

A few hours later, Michael Polowy had begun to recollect exactly what it was that he disliked about ladder matches.

The doctor separates the needle from the remainder of the thread before tying the last of the stitches off, managing at last to close up the widening gash across the still reigning sVo champion's forehead, before turning away to look back at the chart lying on the otherwise empty desk nearby. He takes a few glances at it, nodding his head and muttering to himself as Polowy does his best not to pick at the wound. He'd always had that tendency, to pull at the stitches before they'd had a chance to heal, and tonight was going to be no different. This was the third time they'd attempted to stitch him up, but like a child he'd managed to unravel the thread each time. Each time, there was more bleeding, and each time the cut had opened a little further, until finally he decided he'd had enough of the needle in his scalp and let it be.

Doctor: Alright, Michael. It seems everything is on order, you'll just want to give that a few weeks to heal fully. Until then, I'd recommend staying out of the ring and keeping away from strenuous activity.

He doesn't respond, knowing already that he plans to ignore the doctor's order to the best of his ability. He'd wrestled a thousand matches injured, and this was barely a scrape in the scheme of things. The doctor puts the chart back down onto the table, looking up at Mike with the usual confidence of a man who'd spent most of his young life wedged at a desk, paying too much money for something his parent's had forced him to do. He lowers his glasses to the tip of his nose, looking down at his patient in a fatherly manner.

Doctor: Michael, I mean it, alright? You took a pretty harsh beating out there tonight, and if you don't give it some kind of a rest you're liable to just get hurt worse. Now tell me you'll take a week or two off, alright?

Polowy puts on his patented grin.

Polowy: Come on, doc.. you know me.

Doctor: I'm afraid I do, Michael. I'm afraid I do. Just be careful, alright? Try not to get hit in the head.

Mike nods, standing up from the examination table and collecting his things. He throws a black t-shirt over his head, pulling it down past his chest and letting the snug fabric conform to his skin. The rest of his gear is stuffed into the large, black duffel bag near the door, save the sVo World Championship, which even now he slings over his muscular shoulder as he turns the knob to walk out of the office. A cool breeze hits him as he steps out into the air conditioned hallway, walking into the mostly white, bland office. It had been awfully nice of Dr. Pietro to see him this late, and it had been worth bleeding for an entire flight from Las Vegas into Newark International Airport just visit a doctor he trusted.

Trust... that was something he'd been having all kinds of trouble with lately.

He'd trusted The Shooting Star to stick around for more than a couple of weeks. He'd trusted Psyko Stevo to not be a huge douchebag week after week. He'd trusted Howie Banks to not become Stevo's live-in girlfriend and team up with Julian Fiasco. And if he'd bet on any of these seemingly trustworthy gambits... well... he'd owe a lot of people a lot of money.

Yet when Michael Polowy had placed his faith in Johnny All-Star, all that had seemed inconsequential. Johnny All-Star had come through. He'd trusted Starzano to push him to his limits at Season's Beatings. He'd trusted him to wrestle a hell of a match, and do anything in his power to win the championship. And in the end? He had delivered. He had given Michael Polowy the match of his career, and in the end, it didn't matter that he hadn't won the championship. In fact, had Johnny All-Star not been deep enough in the pocket of Sonny Carter to see whether or not he was circumcised, Polowy would even have to admit to respecting him.

This week, he'd have to put that same trust in a new opponent.

Jay Wildman.

He didn't know much about the Wildman. He'd sported a victory over Captain D at Season's Beatings, in a match just about as meaningful as Psyko Stevo's International Title victory. Like Nick Etch, Captain D's flare for the business had seemingly dropped off into nothingness, and the Wildman's win against him at the last show didn't show a lot of real promise in the newcomer. Yet deep down, he believes that he can bring out the best in his furry faced opponent. Deep down, he knows that he can make Jay Wildman hurt him like Johnny All-Star hurt him at Season's Beatings.

Mike pushes the door to the office open, jumping as it collides with the open dumpster on the other side. He walks briskly to his car, fishing for his keys, and once he's found them tosses his gear bag into the back seat. For a moment, a smile brushes over his face. He's excited. Maybe Jay Wildman can push him to a new level. To a new edge. Maybe this newcomer has what it takes to become sVo champion.

Polowy: Fat fucking chance.

As he slides the key into the ignition and listens to the engine as it purrs to life, he can't help but wonder how Jay Wildman will fall. Will he crawl away from the ring, or be taken away in a stretcher? Will his blood run over the apron like spilt wine? Or will he surprise the world, and win? Being the best is boring, and for the first time... he finds himself starved for good opponents. Maybe, just maybe, Jay Wildman can provide him the sustenance he needs to carry on.

The smile on his face only broadens... Showdown is five days away.

Las Vegas never seemed do damn far away.
-The First Sanctioned Violence Organization World Champion
-Winner of the Victory Cup
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