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A Score to Settle
Topic Started: Jun 11 2008, 08:24 AM (56 Views)
Joof
sVo Champion
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
I left him behind.

Was he expecting a new life? That after his useless training, after my failure at Retribution, I would still give a damn? To me, he was nothing more than another old man, a vessel to sponge knowledge from, until I had what I sought.

Victory.

Victory eluded me. I told him as much, and he stared at me, mouth agape. What few possesions he had were packed in bags, lined up against the wall of his unkept office in London. I coldly told him to unpack. He was no longer needed. He asked me why.

"Why, Nathan?" he said almost pleadingly. He looked up at me, wool cap falling over his eyes, dressed in clothes more befitting a homeless man.

I had no answer. I couldn't have had an answer. I simply turned and walked away, out of the office, out of the gym. And out of my old life.

Just who was I really? I had asked myself that question as I sat in my hotel room, banged up after Organised Chaos. I had declined all calls, refusedto answer any press questions, and I stormed off. I needed to be alone. I sat in my hotel room and stared at the blank wall in front of me, I wondered.

Failure.

The word resonated around in my mind. I had failed in the Organised Chaos match. Rubbing salt into the wound was the fact that my team did not even win. Broken and defeated, Gunner Lang was left at the feet of Night, Travis Williams and Alex Ross.

I was a failure. That I had established. But what else was I? The son of a drunk and an addict, an unholy union, I was more than likely expected to wall by the wayside growing up. After their untimely deaths, I was taken to orphanages and foster homes, and educated myself out of my background. I was now the well read, prodigal son. I could have sailed through the entry exam to any university I wished. Instead, I travelled to Japan and fell into the bizarre world of professional wrestling. I embarressed a champion in under twenty seconds. Does that still qualify me for failure status?

I believe so.

I never captured the gold in my Japan career. I may have garnered a reputation for my technical wrestling skills, but never did I recieve a reputation for being a wearer of gold belts. The honor was reserved for others.

"But why," a person can ask, "why did you retire then?"

And that is why I am still a failure. I left the business, intending to live of sponsorship deals. A fitting end, I figured. In the space of twenty years I had gone from the poverty-stricken son of a wannabe gangster and a heroin addict to the successful, rich pro wrestler. A dream come true.

But even dreams end sometime, as I learnt the hard way.

Penniless and with my spirit broken, I found myself re-entering the world I knew best. A changed world as it happened. A world where respect and decency were long gone. Nevertheless, I stepped up and attempted to adapt to the new world. I re-entered by taking on a so-called submission expert, Lou Lyons. His resistance to my challenge was pitiful at best. I dealt with him quickly. After that, after an easy win, I grew cocky and overconfidant. I lost a match to Sensei Shredder because of my ego. However, it was a mistake I vowed I would never make again.

So here I am now, sitting on a flight en route to Porto Alegre, Brazil, and I denounce myself as a failure. Or to be more precise, I denounce the old Nathan Paradine as a failure. The old me, the one I left broken and depressed inside a cheap room in London.

The new Nathan Paradine is a winner. A king amongst men, a lion amongst the gazelle.

A true "Reflection of Perfection".

With all my ties severed, my manager gone, my old life gone, I fly into Brazil hoping for a new start.

A new chance.

A new future.


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"Nathan! Nathan Paradine!"

I look up, startled for a moment. The man walking towards me, hastily evading the packed crowds of Salgado Filho International Airport. I wearily run sleep from my eyes as he draws near. The long flight from Dublin, plus the connecting flights, have tired me immensly. I want nothing more than to go to my hotel and sleep.

"Yeah, that's me"

"The sVo sent me out here to get you. I'm to drive you to a press showing."

I take in his uniform, and realise that he must be a taxi or possibly a limo driver. I gesture to my gear, sitting on the ground next to me.

"What about all my stuff?" I ask.

"I'm to take you to the showing, and then drive you to your hotel Mr. Paradine, sir" he replys. I nod, and pick up my gear.

"Lead the way, then."

We navigate the packed airport carefully, cutting through thick mobs of people. Once outside, the heat of Brazil hits me, and I lose my sense for a moment. I shake my head and move towards the nondescript car my driver indicates, all the while aware of the sweat trickling down my forehead. I throw my gear and the back, and then slide into the front seat of the car. As we drive, the driver points out significant places and monuments.

"Mr. Paradine, to your left, there is the Piratini Palace!"

"Ooo! Mr. Paradine! Farroupilha Park!"

"Look! The Júlio de Castilhos Museum!"

I allow his talk to drift over me. I pay little attention, preferring to stare out the window and drink in the sights of this foreign place. However, a name brings me back to attention.

"-Cody Williams is-"

"What did you just say?" I ask the driver. My attention is completely focused on him now. In fact, he seems a little suprised. A tone of menace has slipped into my voice.

"Cody Williams, sir."

I nod. "Cody Williams. That's what I thought you said. You watch wrestling Pedro?"

"My name isn't Pedro, sir. Yes, I watch wrestling."

"Are you a Cody Williams fan, Pedro?"

"My name isn't Pedr-"

"Just answer the question."

"Uh... Yeah. I don't mind him." The driver sounds nervous now.

"Looking forward to seeing me beat Cody this week Pedro?"

"Actually... I think Cody will win..."

"Oh do you now?" I turn up the menace tone in my voice a notch. "And why would you happen to think that?"

The driver looks at me incredulously. "Mr. Paradine, he is a former sVo International Champion! Great look, great wrestler, plus his girlfriend is hot."

I digest his words for a moment. "You watch him... because his girlfriend his hot?"

The driver nods, and I slump back in my seat. The little press conferance can't come fast enough.

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Is that what all your fans think Cody? They only only watch you you because your whore is attractive? Possibly.

I, unlike the fans, I have wrestled against you. In the Fatal Four Way, I'm glad neither of us won. Because that means we both still have a score to settle. Nothing was proven between us in Ireland. However, in Brazil, I have a chance to set the records straight.

Cody Williams.

I respect you. However, I blame you for the failures of Team All-Star at Retribution. And now, now that Perfection has sinned, only one person can forgive you.

That is me, Cody.

This week on Showdown, you will beg for my forgiveness. But it is too late now Cody. The only way you can repent is by laying down in that ring, and allowing me to pin you. Nothing difficult. All I ask, is that you just lay down.

Please Cody.

For your sake.

Just. Give. Up.
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