Post by johnmwhite on Aug 23, 2011 10:10:25 GMT -5
--Wrath goes off the air as it should, with the new number one contender standing proud over all pretenders to his throne. The live crowd sense that nothing more is coming as Brutal Mirror shakes off the cobwebs and points his finger in the air, smiling through the grimace of a hard fought battle and a head-rattling Holiday Hangover. Katie Rain thanks the audience for their continued support of REW and wishes them a speedy and safe trip home, and the ringers pick themselves up from the canvas and, eyeing one another warily, gradually depart amid the dispersing crowd. What happens next, away from REW cameras, one can only speculate. Brutal Mirror, perhaps, lays on a low bed for a well earned rest. Sexpert may hit a sauna at a nearby hotel, sweating out the toxic stew of the city air and mouth-spewn breath of the fans at the decrepit StarMaker arena. Colt Winchester likely finds himself a shot that really is within his reach - that of whiskey rather than for a title, sitting in a saloon and rethinking his strategy. Hopefully he is patient enough to know that he still shows much promise, that his time will come. Finally, and there's no maybe about it, Aaron Holiday hits the bars, the clubs, then stumbles home in the early hours of the morning to his belle Dark Angel, smelling like a distillery and walking like a sailor in a storm. But Aaron Holiday is surprised at the breakfast bar, where a simple white envelope sits with his name written in neat black ink.--
Aaron Holiday: Huh?
--Holiday tears open the letter with a butterknife, a rather daring feat in his inebriated state, and unfolds the sheet inside. He recognised the writing, even drunk, and he knows what to expect: a lecture, a steady stream of consciousness, a rambling letter explaining the whys and wherefores of whether or not he should be deserving of a title shot. Perhaps the scaly serpent would use those fishing trips as an excuse to escape another tangle in Holiday's net. Perhaps he would point out that Holiday had never beaten him before, in all these years, so what chance did he think he had to do it this time? Perhaps he would surprise him, come to a judgement that competition is always welcome, and after teasing and taunting for line after line would finally reveal his answer...--
Aaron Holiday: Son of a...
--But the paper has just one word, written right in the centre.--
No.
