Post by Rob on Mar 17, 2015 7:23:29 GMT -6
Sitting in a chair backstage at the first aid station, Jericho Cross waits as the EMT finishes putting stitches in the back of his head. All he can think about is the night's events. He had lost a hardcore match, his specialty, to Killjoy, someone less experienced in such a setting.
The loss had punched him square in the pride, but something felt different. The Stooges were right; this wasn't the same Raze. He fought the same and had the same will to win, but his thinking was changing. He truly hadn't meant to hospitalise her back then.
Before, he'd be thinking of a bloody, brutal vengeance, but given what he did to her, he knew he had brought this upon himself. She deserved her vindication and he was genuinely surprised she got the job done alone. Grabbing the shorts helped, but it was all legal. That something so simple helped secure the win was funny to him, he couldn't help but smile.
A dressing is applied to cover the stitching and the medic steps aside.
EMT: And we're done, you're free to go. You know the drill by now, right?
He nods. Of course he did, he probably knew it better than the EMTs did. Stitches and a concussion... about as new to him as a fucking sandwich by now. Standing up, he thanks the man for the help and throws his leather jacket on.
Leaving the room, he heads down the corridor, looking for the side exit. He couldn't help but wonder what would come next. Now that Killjoy has had her vengeance, would it continue? Would Warpath be clear to take a shot at him? If so, it would be time to bring in his backup. Would Killjoy even want to go at him again? It was the toughest match of her GZW2K1 career.
And what if it were over? In his experience, it was unlikely. More attacks would come, if the pattern holds. What of his secret, would it hold too? What was to be the next task? What should be his focus now?
Waiting seemed the smart choice. Wait for the match announcements and the promos, those would set him on the appropriate path.
Coming to the door, he pushes it open and steps outside, adjusting his bag so it sits behind him. Much of the traffic had gone, making it easier to find his ride. Getting to it, he straps on his open face helmet, not even thinking of potential repercussions. An open faced helmet. On a motorbike. With concussion. Well, at least his 'fuck it' mindset was intact.
Sitting astride his motorcycle, he thinks about what's to come. He wasn't in it for him, not this time. But with the company now thundering ahead after its re-awakening, did they really need him anymore? Selfless motivation or not, he wasn't going out on a loss. But no matter, he would have to play by ear for now.
A turn of the key brings roaring life to the engine. With nothing holding him back, he speeds off.
The loss had punched him square in the pride, but something felt different. The Stooges were right; this wasn't the same Raze. He fought the same and had the same will to win, but his thinking was changing. He truly hadn't meant to hospitalise her back then.
Before, he'd be thinking of a bloody, brutal vengeance, but given what he did to her, he knew he had brought this upon himself. She deserved her vindication and he was genuinely surprised she got the job done alone. Grabbing the shorts helped, but it was all legal. That something so simple helped secure the win was funny to him, he couldn't help but smile.
A dressing is applied to cover the stitching and the medic steps aside.
EMT: And we're done, you're free to go. You know the drill by now, right?
He nods. Of course he did, he probably knew it better than the EMTs did. Stitches and a concussion... about as new to him as a fucking sandwich by now. Standing up, he thanks the man for the help and throws his leather jacket on.
Leaving the room, he heads down the corridor, looking for the side exit. He couldn't help but wonder what would come next. Now that Killjoy has had her vengeance, would it continue? Would Warpath be clear to take a shot at him? If so, it would be time to bring in his backup. Would Killjoy even want to go at him again? It was the toughest match of her GZW2K1 career.
And what if it were over? In his experience, it was unlikely. More attacks would come, if the pattern holds. What of his secret, would it hold too? What was to be the next task? What should be his focus now?
Waiting seemed the smart choice. Wait for the match announcements and the promos, those would set him on the appropriate path.
Coming to the door, he pushes it open and steps outside, adjusting his bag so it sits behind him. Much of the traffic had gone, making it easier to find his ride. Getting to it, he straps on his open face helmet, not even thinking of potential repercussions. An open faced helmet. On a motorbike. With concussion. Well, at least his 'fuck it' mindset was intact.
Sitting astride his motorcycle, he thinks about what's to come. He wasn't in it for him, not this time. But with the company now thundering ahead after its re-awakening, did they really need him anymore? Selfless motivation or not, he wasn't going out on a loss. But no matter, he would have to play by ear for now.
A turn of the key brings roaring life to the engine. With nothing holding him back, he speeds off.
