Post by Justin King on Feb 4, 2012 13:51:24 GMT -5
As I sit under an old tree on the outskirts of Atlantic City, sun shining bright in the blue sky with a few clouds to be seen, my mind couldn’t help but wander. See, I couldn’t help but think about my return to EUW coming up. My last appearance in EUW was at their biggest show of the year, Prestige, and I choked. The match played in my mind over and over.
I snapped back into reality for a moment before raising to a vertical base and looking around, before heading off towards civilization, zoning out again.
I arrive into Atlantic City on foot, slamming my palms against the side of my head multiple times. The match is coming through clear as day, like I’m sitting in the audience watching, and I can’t figure out why. I continue down the sidewalk, passing by one of the local casinos before stopping and looking inside, seeing something weird in the window. As I take a closer look, it’s my mind displaying my match with Callaway.
I hastily shake my head before the vision of the match disappears and everything returns to normal. I look around, hoping nobody noticed me acting like I’m losing my mind, before hastily making a retreat from the casino in a different direction. I ducked into a small café, looking around like a criminal on the run from the law before taking a seat in a small booth in the back as the waitress approaches.
“What can I get for you, dear?”
I look up at the waitress for a moment, thinking, before coming to a decision, placing my tattooed right hand on the table. “Cup of coffee, please.” I let out a sigh as the waitress disappeared into the crowd to fetch the coffee, before placing my head in my hands. Why was my debut match practicaly displaying itself in front of my, like a hologram of sorts? I had no idea, but I wanted to figure it out. As I sat there thinking, I hear a small noise in the back of my mind until I look down and see the cup of coffee before me. The small, white, porcelain cup sat elegantly on the wooden table and I let out another sigh before picking up the cup to take a sip. After the sip of coffee, I set the cup back on the table and laid my head down on my heavilly tattooed forearms for a moment before picking it back up. As I rub my eyes from the lack of sleep the past week, I glance down at the cup of coffee and my eyes go wide from what I see.
I shake my head in a hasty manner before reaching into the back pocket of my black jeans and pulling out my wallet and throwing a few bills down on the table to pay for the cup of coffee before darting out of the café, placing my leather jacket over the sleeveless shirt that revealed all the colorful ink in different shapes, sizes and patterns on both my arms down to, and including, the fingers of each hand. My steel toed boots firmly against the pavement with each step, I continue walking until I finally reach the hotel I had been staying at. It had been so long since I’ve returned home to New Jersey, my parents were gone and really had no official home as I constantly moved from place to place while wrestling. As I duck into the lobby, the hotel staff greet me with warm smiles and cheerful attitudes. I smile back and raise my hand in a polite wave before disappearing into the elevator to head up to my room. As I stood in the elevator, listening to the soft melody that is the elevator music that drives most people insane, my mind feels somewhat at peace. When I feel the elevator stop and I hear the little ‘Ding’ and the doors open, I roam the hallways before I unlock the door to my room and disappear inside. I take my jacket off and throw it onto the arm of the couch before retreating to the back room sitting down in the very uncomfortable chair positioned in front of the table. With my laptop still occupying the carrying bag on the floor, I pull it out and open it up to reveal the monitor, before my mind presented the match to me once more.
I hear the bell ringing to end the match in my mind, but feel like the bell is actually being rung in the bedroom. I shake my head to regain my composure once more before turning on my laptop. As it boots up, I enter the password and retreat into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water before returning and clicking on the web browser. As I click the address bar at the top, I simply type in EUW.com and head to the company’s website to see what I can find out. As I scavenge the website, I notice a lot of things have changed. For starters, Warrior has taken over the company as Commissioner and has set up a tournament to crown a new EUW World Champion, after vacating all the old champions. I move my mouse around on the website and stumble upon the bracket for the tournament, and everything finally made sense. I power down my laptop before placing it in my bag, hoist my bag over my shoulders before returning to the living room and out the front door, completely forgetting my jacket. As I run as fast as I can in my steel toed boots, I stop at the elevator and repeatedly press the button to take me down towards the lobby. When I hear the ding and see the door open, I step inside and press the button for the lobby, waiting as the doors close behind me.
‘It all makes sense, now! That’s why the match was playing in my head. I’m facing Callaway in the first round. He beat me last time, by submission. He proved that he was the better wrestler that night, but I’ve gotten better. Stronger. Faster. I’m going to prove that his win at Prestige was just because I choked. I mean, come on, my debut was on the grandest stage of EUW, Prestige. I wasn’t ready for the biggest show of them all. I’ve taken time away from EUW to prepare myself for the next shot.’
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to the ding and let me out into the lobby. I stopped at the front desk, returned the key before taking off out the front door to the bus station. I had at least two days to get to the next EUW show and I was bound and determined to make this chance count. As I sat on the bus heading towards EUW, I opened my laptop and let it boot up, entered the password, and then set it to record a video message because I had something to get off my chest.
“Alright, some of you are probably wondering where I’ve been and some of you probably don’t care. But the fact remains that Justin King as back. Now, up until today, things have been as normal as they can be. Today, shit got weird. How did it get weird you ask? Well, throughout the day, my debut in EUW seemed to take place before my very eyes. Like I was sitting in the audience at Prestige, witnessing it first hand. But it didn’t appear on a TV screen, or computer monitor. No, it “projected” itself, so to speak, in shit like my cup of coffee, or a window at a casino in Atlantic City. But the truth remained, it confused the hell out of me. But then, it all made sense! You see, the winds of change have blown into EUW, with “Commissioner Warrior” and a tournament to crown a new World Champion. This brings me to my original point. See, my debut at Prestige was against one Stephen Callaway. Come to find out, first round of this tournament, I’m facing Stephen Callaway again. Will the result be the same as it was last time? If Callaway has done the same thing I have, he’s been preparing. Preparing for a beating. Why? Because I’m not going to choke like I did at Prestige. Stephen Callaway, you better be ready because at Monday Night Suicide, this King will lock you in a dungeon. A dungeon you stand no chance of escaping from!”
I ended the recording before shutting down the power to my laptop and placing it in my bag, sitting patiently on the bus as we travelled down the highway towards my destination.
Callaway and King both move out of their corners, moving towards eachother and locking in a forearm tie-up. King and Callaway jostle for power, moving back and forth with King seeming to get the advantage over Callaway, pushing down on him. Callaway releases the hold, moving away quickly before holding up his right hand, nodding up to it and challenging King to a test of strength. King locks his right hand against Callaway’s, before both men lock their left hands together. King pushes forward, jostling for power, but Callaway leans up slightly, pushing down on King. Both men, whom are relatively evenly matched in height and weight, seem to be stuck in a stalemate, with King eventually pushing upwards and shoving Callaway away.
King jolts forward, grabbing Callaway’s right hand and pulling away at it, attempting an Irish Whip. Callaway is sent forward, but he grips King’s arm tightly, moving under it and twisting before lifting his left boot up, placing it under King’s jaw and slamming down violently into the mat, kicking King roughly in the jaw with the Das Boot. King flops backwards onto the mat and Callaway rolls backwards and onto his feet, clapping his hands roughly as he begins to get the adrenaline flowing. Callaway moves over to King, grasping his hair and pulling him up to his feet, running behind him and rebounding off the ropes behind King, sprinting forward and grabbing King’s neck, front-flipping and slamming King’s head into the mat with the Calsifornia Dreaming!
Callaway slides through on the impact, sliding underneath the bottom rope and quickly climbing back up onto the apron, walking across the apron and towards the upper-left turnbuckle, climbing up the ropes and carefully stabilising himself on the top rope. King slowly rolls onto his back, and Callaway leaps off for a standard elbow drop, but King quickly rolls to the left, sending Callaway crashing into the mat! King rolls to the left a second time, using the momentum to roll onto his feet. King walks over to Callaway, grabbing his left arm and leg and pulling him towards the middle of the ring. King points to the crowd before leaping up swiftly, hitting a front flip and slamming down into King with a 450 Splash!
I snapped back into reality for a moment before raising to a vertical base and looking around, before heading off towards civilization, zoning out again.
King rolls backwards and back onto his feet, jolting forward slightly and cartwheeling before using the momentum to backflip swiftly and hit King and hit a Moonsault, slamming down into Callaway. King goes to hook his leg, but Callaway snaps an elbow up, catching King in his forehead. King stumbles back, landing on his rear and scuttles backwards up to his feet as Callaway rolls onto his stomach.
King takes a few steps backwards, standing in the upper-left turnbuckle and motioning for Callaway to get to his feet, clapping his hands together and urging the crowd to follow his lead. The arena’s air begins to pulse with the sound of rhythmic clapping as King claps his hands, Callaway pushing himself onto his knees before uneasily stumbling to his feet, slowly turning around. With Callaway up, King quickly jolts forward, looking for a Superkick, but Callaway ducks under it and twists around. King quickly slams his leg into the ground, spinning around, but Callaway moves forward, scooping up King. King is lifted, but he pushes himself over Callaway’s back and onto his feet, locking his arms around his waist and forcing him forward to the ropes. Callaway grasps the top rope tightly, locking his arms around it and preventing King from forcing him over the top rope. King keeps his arms locked around Callaway’s waist, but eventually pulls away, leaping up and kicking Callaway in the back with a dropkick, sending him reeling over the top rope.
Callaway keeps such a tight grip on the top rope that he remains clinging onto it, his back facing the ring as his feet dangle precariously over the outside. Callaway looks over his shoulder, and can only watch as King runs forward, leaping onto the second rope and springing off, up and over the top rope and slamming both of his feet down into Callaway’s chest with a rough Mule Kick! The force causes Callaway to release the ropes, crashing to the mats outside as he clutches his chest in pain, King landing on his side and using his natural agility to roll through the impact of his landing, causing him minimal pain. The crowd respond with a quick, but loud, cheer and King twists around, walking over to Callaway and grabbing his hair, pulling him up to his feet and rolling him into the ring.
I arrive into Atlantic City on foot, slamming my palms against the side of my head multiple times. The match is coming through clear as day, like I’m sitting in the audience watching, and I can’t figure out why. I continue down the sidewalk, passing by one of the local casinos before stopping and looking inside, seeing something weird in the window. As I take a closer look, it’s my mind displaying my match with Callaway.
King slides into the ring after Callaway, who crawls forward slightly. King runs forward, leaping straight over the length of Callaway’s body and twists around, looking down at Callaway who slowly lifts his head, quickly lunging forward at King’s right leg. King lifts it, standing on his left leg as Callaway slides across the mat, the crowd letting out a small laugh as Callaway raises his head, angrily swinging both of his legs and spinning his body on the mat, slamming both of his legs into the left shin of King with a vicious crack. King cries out in agony, landing facefirst on the mat as Callaway rolls onto his side, onto one knee and up onto his feet, rubbing his chest from earlier.
Callaway walks over to King, grabbing his hair before pulling his head up slightly, placing his right foot on the back of his head before stomping down, slamming King’s head roughly into the mat before pulling him up to his feet. King stumbles slightly, just enough for Callaway to lean down, scooping King up effortlessly and slamming him down with his feet on the mat, his right arm locked around his neck as he slams his entire weight backwards, spiking King into the mat with the Everything Goes. Callaway rolls slightly, covering King and hooking his left leg for the first pinfall of Prestige.
1…..2….KICK OUT!
King manages to kick out relatively comfortably, forcing Callaway to break the pinfall and once more forcing Callaway to get to his feet, dragging King up with him. King lifts his knee, kneeing Callaway in the abdomen, but Callaway grasps King’s hair, slamming his head down into his knee before grabbing his right arm, Irish whipping him towards the ropes. King rushes at the ropes, rebounding off the ropes and hurtling towards Callaway. King leaps up for a front dropkick, but Callaway quickly jumps back, forcing King to fall to his back. Callaway goes to hit an elbow drop, but King rolls to his left and Callaway hits the mat as he hops to his feet. King twists around and backflips, going for a Moonsault, but Callaway quickly rolls to the right, avoiding the moonsault. King rolls forward and onto his feet as Callaway uses his own momentum to get to his feet. Both men twist around, facing eachother as the crowd cheer and applaud at the sheer agility and technical prowess both men are displaying on the great stage.
Both men lunge forward, locking in another forearm tie-up. Callaway manages to shove King backwards, lunging forward and going for a Clothesline. King quickly ducks under the clothesline, running forward and rebounding off the ropes behind Callaway, hurtling towards his back and quickly hitting a front dropkick into the middle of his back. Callaway stumbles forward against the set of ropes in front of him, and King quickly rolls backwards, twisting around and jolting forward, rebounding off the set of ropes behind him again, hurtling towards Callaway. King sprints to the right of Callaway and, when he reaches the ropes, grasps the middle and top rope, swinging his legs up above the top rope and spinning them, kicking Callaway square in the face with the Around The World. Callaway stumbles back, clutching his nose as King spins his legs around into the ring, slipping through the ropes and landing straight onto his feet, jolting forward and slamming his foot into Callaway’s jaw with a Superkick! Callaway topples backwards like a felled tree, hitting the mat with a crash as King scrambles over to him, hooking his leg.
1……2……3-KICK OUT!
Out of instinct, Callaway thrusts his shoulder up roughly, breaking the pinfall. King gets to his feet, turning around and walking towards the nearby lower-left turnbuckle of the ring, grasping the top rope and pulling himself up, facing away from the ring. King stabilises himself, looking over his shoulder at Callaway who is barely stirring. King quickly backflips off with a Moonsault, but Callaway rolls to his right. King quickly tucks his legs under him, landing directly on his legs. The force of the landing causes King to roll backwards, running forward quickly and leaping up, hitting a quick flip before slamming his weight down into Callaway’s back with a 450 Splash!
I hastily shake my head before the vision of the match disappears and everything returns to normal. I look around, hoping nobody noticed me acting like I’m losing my mind, before hastily making a retreat from the casino in a different direction. I ducked into a small café, looking around like a criminal on the run from the law before taking a seat in a small booth in the back as the waitress approaches.
“What can I get for you, dear?”
I look up at the waitress for a moment, thinking, before coming to a decision, placing my tattooed right hand on the table. “Cup of coffee, please.” I let out a sigh as the waitress disappeared into the crowd to fetch the coffee, before placing my head in my hands. Why was my debut match practicaly displaying itself in front of my, like a hologram of sorts? I had no idea, but I wanted to figure it out. As I sat there thinking, I hear a small noise in the back of my mind until I look down and see the cup of coffee before me. The small, white, porcelain cup sat elegantly on the wooden table and I let out another sigh before picking up the cup to take a sip. After the sip of coffee, I set the cup back on the table and laid my head down on my heavilly tattooed forearms for a moment before picking it back up. As I rub my eyes from the lack of sleep the past week, I glance down at the cup of coffee and my eyes go wide from what I see.
King gets up to his feet, grabbing Callaways hair and pulling him up to his feet, forcing him over to the lower-left turnbuckle, quickly delivering a right forearm to the side of Callaway’s temple before leaning down, grasping his legs and forcing him up to sit on the top rope, climbing onto the second rope. Callaway lifts his knees, forcing his legs between his body and King’s before pushing forward, forcing King off of the top rope and to the mat. King stumbles backwards, rushing forward and leaping up for a dropkick. Callaway grabs the legs of King as they raise, throwing him to the right and sending King spiralling violently to the mat, hitting the canvas with a crush. King slowly pushes himself onto his hands and knees, stumbling slightly. King faces away from Callaway, who takes the opportunity to leap off the top rope, catching King’s head in mid-flight and front-flipping over him, driving his face violently into the mat with a Anything Goes from the top rope!
Callaway rolls forward slightly and uneasily onto his knees, pushing himself back up to a vertical base before turning to King and grasping his hair, wrenching him violently to his feet. King quickly delivers a swift knee to Callaway's abdomen, forcing him down to one knee before grabbing his hair and pulling him to his feet, shoving him backwards and jolting forward, aiming a Superkick! Callaway, recognising his own finisher, ducks under the Superkick, twisting around and locking an arm around his left arm around King's left arm, then slipping his right arm under his neck, tightening both arms and locking in the Calsmission!
I shake my head in a hasty manner before reaching into the back pocket of my black jeans and pulling out my wallet and throwing a few bills down on the table to pay for the cup of coffee before darting out of the café, placing my leather jacket over the sleeveless shirt that revealed all the colorful ink in different shapes, sizes and patterns on both my arms down to, and including, the fingers of each hand. My steel toed boots firmly against the pavement with each step, I continue walking until I finally reach the hotel I had been staying at. It had been so long since I’ve returned home to New Jersey, my parents were gone and really had no official home as I constantly moved from place to place while wrestling. As I duck into the lobby, the hotel staff greet me with warm smiles and cheerful attitudes. I smile back and raise my hand in a polite wave before disappearing into the elevator to head up to my room. As I stood in the elevator, listening to the soft melody that is the elevator music that drives most people insane, my mind feels somewhat at peace. When I feel the elevator stop and I hear the little ‘Ding’ and the doors open, I roam the hallways before I unlock the door to my room and disappear inside. I take my jacket off and throw it onto the arm of the couch before retreating to the back room sitting down in the very uncomfortable chair positioned in front of the table. With my laptop still occupying the carrying bag on the floor, I pull it out and open it up to reveal the monitor, before my mind presented the match to me once more.
King struggles violently, shaking Callaway as he does, but Callaway forces down roughly on the hold, bringing King down to his knees before laying back, locking his legs around one of King's, tightening the hold as much as he can and pulling back roughly! King begins to choke, fading slightly, but Callaway keeps the hold tightened, pressing into his throat. King refuses to tap, instead slowly shaking his head as Callaway tightens his grip even more. King's head slowly begins to slump to the side, and the referee leans down, grabbing King's free arm, lifting it.
It drops once.
He grabs King's arm again, lifting it.
It drops a second time.
He grabs King's arm for the final time, as Callaway lets out a primal scream, tightening the hold even more. King still refuses to give up, his hand shaking slightly.
It drops a third time!
I hear the bell ringing to end the match in my mind, but feel like the bell is actually being rung in the bedroom. I shake my head to regain my composure once more before turning on my laptop. As it boots up, I enter the password and retreat into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water before returning and clicking on the web browser. As I click the address bar at the top, I simply type in EUW.com and head to the company’s website to see what I can find out. As I scavenge the website, I notice a lot of things have changed. For starters, Warrior has taken over the company as Commissioner and has set up a tournament to crown a new EUW World Champion, after vacating all the old champions. I move my mouse around on the website and stumble upon the bracket for the tournament, and everything finally made sense. I power down my laptop before placing it in my bag, hoist my bag over my shoulders before returning to the living room and out the front door, completely forgetting my jacket. As I run as fast as I can in my steel toed boots, I stop at the elevator and repeatedly press the button to take me down towards the lobby. When I hear the ding and see the door open, I step inside and press the button for the lobby, waiting as the doors close behind me.
‘It all makes sense, now! That’s why the match was playing in my head. I’m facing Callaway in the first round. He beat me last time, by submission. He proved that he was the better wrestler that night, but I’ve gotten better. Stronger. Faster. I’m going to prove that his win at Prestige was just because I choked. I mean, come on, my debut was on the grandest stage of EUW, Prestige. I wasn’t ready for the biggest show of them all. I’ve taken time away from EUW to prepare myself for the next shot.’
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to the ding and let me out into the lobby. I stopped at the front desk, returned the key before taking off out the front door to the bus station. I had at least two days to get to the next EUW show and I was bound and determined to make this chance count. As I sat on the bus heading towards EUW, I opened my laptop and let it boot up, entered the password, and then set it to record a video message because I had something to get off my chest.
“Alright, some of you are probably wondering where I’ve been and some of you probably don’t care. But the fact remains that Justin King as back. Now, up until today, things have been as normal as they can be. Today, shit got weird. How did it get weird you ask? Well, throughout the day, my debut in EUW seemed to take place before my very eyes. Like I was sitting in the audience at Prestige, witnessing it first hand. But it didn’t appear on a TV screen, or computer monitor. No, it “projected” itself, so to speak, in shit like my cup of coffee, or a window at a casino in Atlantic City. But the truth remained, it confused the hell out of me. But then, it all made sense! You see, the winds of change have blown into EUW, with “Commissioner Warrior” and a tournament to crown a new World Champion. This brings me to my original point. See, my debut at Prestige was against one Stephen Callaway. Come to find out, first round of this tournament, I’m facing Stephen Callaway again. Will the result be the same as it was last time? If Callaway has done the same thing I have, he’s been preparing. Preparing for a beating. Why? Because I’m not going to choke like I did at Prestige. Stephen Callaway, you better be ready because at Monday Night Suicide, this King will lock you in a dungeon. A dungeon you stand no chance of escaping from!”
I ended the recording before shutting down the power to my laptop and placing it in my bag, sitting patiently on the bus as we travelled down the highway towards my destination.