Post by Stormm on Apr 10, 2015 0:42:43 GMT -5
The tinted windows to Nature Force One, the unofficial call sign for any vehicle carrying the Force of Nature, barely let any light from the Pure Class Arena parking garage in as Justin sat in the back of the limo, contemplating. "You go on ahead, I'll be right behind you." Catie McCallister had been accompanying him to the arena for the past few events, with Lindsay at home taking care of the twins, and Brian still MIA.
Sliding across the seats towards the door, she hesitate before pulling the handle, and placed a hand on Justin's knee. "It's just another match, don't overthink it; we both know what happens when Justin Michaels overthinks something." A sly smile appeared as she winked at him and exited the limo.
They had always kind of flirted back and forth, both Brian and Lindsay just accepted it. The two had history yes, but it was all harmless. More times than not, they did it just to see which one could make someone uncomfortable first. This was not one of those times. They were as close as ever after the last couple of months, though, and Catie was having a hard time expressing her gratitude towards the Michaels for taking her in, and especially to Justin, who was doing his best after having added Brian to his missing persons list.
Justin missed having Lindsay by his side, though, so Catie was doing her best to fill in while Lindsay was on maternity leave. It was nice to have a travel buddy, someone to talk to, someone to celebrate with after a victory, or to criticize him after a defeat. Funny thing was, it was Lindsay's idea in the first place. It just showed the kind of trust that those two couples had in one another. But something was amiss.
On several occasions over the last month or so, Catie has approached Justin with a fire in her eyes, and looked cocked to unload something on him, only to shy away, and retreat back into herself. The Force of Nature was certain she needed to unload something big, but she wouldn't do it; on top of it, there was no doubt in his mind that she had already confided in Lindsay about it, who refused to talk about it the time he brought it up.
But this wasn't what troubled Stormm. Sitting next to him in the seat was his North American championship belt, a title that he had held onto for a little over two hundred days now, and next to it, the baby rattles that Lindsay had found in the twins' cribs a couple weeks ago. One blue. One pink. Both painted black.
"Son of a bitch." He sighed while snatching up the two rattles that he promised Lindsay he was going to return to their owners at Trauma One Sixty-Nine, but never did. So in the closing moments leading up to Trauma One Seventy, he was torn with what to do with the two little totems of evil that had been gifted upon his children. Leave them outside of Michael Wryght's locker room, or shove them down his throat?
No! He couldn't let them do this to him! Get in his head and distract him from the real reason he was there that night! Tyrone Smith was the only man he needed to concentrate on that night. The Black Hand is only made stronger by those that oppose them, not by those who ignore their ridiculous creed. The death omen that had been slapped on his chest at Mass Destruction by Mr. Showtime would net the Black Hand nothing more than ignorance.
The Icemann Invitational Tournament, Tyrone Smith, and the excitement of who the next victim to fall trying to take the North American title away from his was all that mattered. Should both Wryght and Michaels advance passed the quarter finals, that would be the only time the Black Hand would mean anything to the Force of Nature, but he had to get passed one of the original crazy individuals of Pure Class Wrestling first.
The kooky thing about it was, in one hundred and one matches in PCW over the last nine years, where both Stormm and Crazy Boy were active during most of it, the two had never actual squared off against one another. Hell, they were never even in the same match as one another at any point. So what better way for them to face off for the first time than in the first round of The Icemann Invitational? There wasn't many answers that would trump the match they had drawn for the show that night.
Tossing the rattles back down on the seat, he grabbed the North American title belt and held it out in front of him. "They're already saying this is as good as it gets for me. That I'll never reach this kind of success anywhere else in PCW. That I'm passed my prime. I can't wait to see what they say when I leave Living a Legacy with you and a second Icemann Invitation trophy to my credit!" Unbuttoning the snaps on the leather strap, he tossed the belt over his right shoulder before lounging back in his seat.
"How foolish do these people have to look before they realize that I'm still the same Force of Nature that I was when I joined this company nine years ago? The same Stormm that won the World title four years ago?" He asked aloud. "Will a second tournament victory be enough? A record setting North American title reign?"
Snatching the tainted rattles back up with his left hand, he pondered for a minutes as he glanced around the back of the limo; dark with the smell of new leather. The scary part about it all for the Force of Nature was, if nothing he had done since winning the World title the first time was going to sway the faithful, nothing he did ever again would. Destroying Crazy Boy in his first round match later that night would barely go noticed. Breaking Monroe's North American title reign record would get a mention on the fan forums, and then be lost. Winning TIIT and using it to secure a shot at the International title, the only title left for Stormm in his quest to get back to the top of PCW, and the only title left for him to secured a grand slam, would only be met with imperious contempt.
"Fuck em! All of em!" He knocked on the back passenger side window, and the door opened up immediately. His frustrations getting the better of him in private were much better than in the public eye. After all, he was still trying to do what he felt to be right by the fans, the locker room, and the front office of Pure Class Wrestling. Despite everything that was going on, and could potentially happen to him in his career, as well as all the shit he was dealing with in the real world, he was there that night for one reason. To beat Tyrone Smith!
Sure, the faithful could be fickle, but one thing never changed, and that was how much the Force of Nature enjoyed watching people who doubted him eat their words!
Sliding across the seats towards the door, she hesitate before pulling the handle, and placed a hand on Justin's knee. "It's just another match, don't overthink it; we both know what happens when Justin Michaels overthinks something." A sly smile appeared as she winked at him and exited the limo.
They had always kind of flirted back and forth, both Brian and Lindsay just accepted it. The two had history yes, but it was all harmless. More times than not, they did it just to see which one could make someone uncomfortable first. This was not one of those times. They were as close as ever after the last couple of months, though, and Catie was having a hard time expressing her gratitude towards the Michaels for taking her in, and especially to Justin, who was doing his best after having added Brian to his missing persons list.
Justin missed having Lindsay by his side, though, so Catie was doing her best to fill in while Lindsay was on maternity leave. It was nice to have a travel buddy, someone to talk to, someone to celebrate with after a victory, or to criticize him after a defeat. Funny thing was, it was Lindsay's idea in the first place. It just showed the kind of trust that those two couples had in one another. But something was amiss.
On several occasions over the last month or so, Catie has approached Justin with a fire in her eyes, and looked cocked to unload something on him, only to shy away, and retreat back into herself. The Force of Nature was certain she needed to unload something big, but she wouldn't do it; on top of it, there was no doubt in his mind that she had already confided in Lindsay about it, who refused to talk about it the time he brought it up.
But this wasn't what troubled Stormm. Sitting next to him in the seat was his North American championship belt, a title that he had held onto for a little over two hundred days now, and next to it, the baby rattles that Lindsay had found in the twins' cribs a couple weeks ago. One blue. One pink. Both painted black.
"Son of a bitch." He sighed while snatching up the two rattles that he promised Lindsay he was going to return to their owners at Trauma One Sixty-Nine, but never did. So in the closing moments leading up to Trauma One Seventy, he was torn with what to do with the two little totems of evil that had been gifted upon his children. Leave them outside of Michael Wryght's locker room, or shove them down his throat?
No! He couldn't let them do this to him! Get in his head and distract him from the real reason he was there that night! Tyrone Smith was the only man he needed to concentrate on that night. The Black Hand is only made stronger by those that oppose them, not by those who ignore their ridiculous creed. The death omen that had been slapped on his chest at Mass Destruction by Mr. Showtime would net the Black Hand nothing more than ignorance.
The Icemann Invitational Tournament, Tyrone Smith, and the excitement of who the next victim to fall trying to take the North American title away from his was all that mattered. Should both Wryght and Michaels advance passed the quarter finals, that would be the only time the Black Hand would mean anything to the Force of Nature, but he had to get passed one of the original crazy individuals of Pure Class Wrestling first.
The kooky thing about it was, in one hundred and one matches in PCW over the last nine years, where both Stormm and Crazy Boy were active during most of it, the two had never actual squared off against one another. Hell, they were never even in the same match as one another at any point. So what better way for them to face off for the first time than in the first round of The Icemann Invitational? There wasn't many answers that would trump the match they had drawn for the show that night.
Tossing the rattles back down on the seat, he grabbed the North American title belt and held it out in front of him. "They're already saying this is as good as it gets for me. That I'll never reach this kind of success anywhere else in PCW. That I'm passed my prime. I can't wait to see what they say when I leave Living a Legacy with you and a second Icemann Invitation trophy to my credit!" Unbuttoning the snaps on the leather strap, he tossed the belt over his right shoulder before lounging back in his seat.
"How foolish do these people have to look before they realize that I'm still the same Force of Nature that I was when I joined this company nine years ago? The same Stormm that won the World title four years ago?" He asked aloud. "Will a second tournament victory be enough? A record setting North American title reign?"
Snatching the tainted rattles back up with his left hand, he pondered for a minutes as he glanced around the back of the limo; dark with the smell of new leather. The scary part about it all for the Force of Nature was, if nothing he had done since winning the World title the first time was going to sway the faithful, nothing he did ever again would. Destroying Crazy Boy in his first round match later that night would barely go noticed. Breaking Monroe's North American title reign record would get a mention on the fan forums, and then be lost. Winning TIIT and using it to secure a shot at the International title, the only title left for Stormm in his quest to get back to the top of PCW, and the only title left for him to secured a grand slam, would only be met with imperious contempt.
"Fuck em! All of em!" He knocked on the back passenger side window, and the door opened up immediately. His frustrations getting the better of him in private were much better than in the public eye. After all, he was still trying to do what he felt to be right by the fans, the locker room, and the front office of Pure Class Wrestling. Despite everything that was going on, and could potentially happen to him in his career, as well as all the shit he was dealing with in the real world, he was there that night for one reason. To beat Tyrone Smith!
Sure, the faithful could be fickle, but one thing never changed, and that was how much the Force of Nature enjoyed watching people who doubted him eat their words!
