EZieba
New member
- Joined
- Jul 8, 1998
- Messages
- 427
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 53
- Location
- Sierra Vista, Arizona
- Website
- www.facebook.com
A day has passed since the marquee event from CSWA, their annual pay per view spectacular Anniversary, went down at the CSWA Auditorium in Greensboro, North Carolina. Yesterday the entire city was on their feet as they witness the matches that took place inside the grand building, but today things are different. The excitement has died down and the people have gone back to their daily lives. Most will go back to work and talk about the scenes they viewed either on their television sets or live at the Auditorium. Either way the people of Greensboro would enjoy their Monday with a huge smile on their face.
During his stay at Greensboro, ‘Good God’ Kevin Powers made the most of his time by reacquainting himself with old friends as well as meeting new workers for the first time either at Anniversary or at CSWA Towers. At the same time he was never one to let the fans down. From posing for photographs to signing empty Bacardi bottles (of all things), Kevin Powers always had a smile on his face when he had to do his thing for the fans and anyone associated with CSWA.
But, when everyone turned away, they never saw the real Powers and the anguish he continued to go through day after day.
As much as he tried to run away and escape his past, the memories he retained would not allow him to do so. No matter how many times he put on an act for the crowd, and for that matter his friends and co-workers, he could not escape the torment that continued to infiltrate his mind.
“Why? Why can’t you just let me be? Have I not been punished enough? I’m sorry for my crime and I throw myself at your mercy! Please, I beg of you, have pity on me you ruthless bastard!”
Collecting his belongings from the Marriott Greensboro High Point hotel, Powers couldn’t help but to say to himself, “Maybe I should just run. I did my appearances to let them know I’m still alive. That should make them happy. Shouldn’t it?”
He made his way down towards the lobby area and was preparing to make his way out the door until he heard the familiar tone of his cell phone going off. Pulling his Motorola Razr V3 (It’s a quad-band) cell phone out of his pocket he could clearly hear the ‘Halloween’ theme music playing from it. He only associated that ring tone to one person and he we never happy to talk to him.
“Hello Zieba. What’s new?”
“Kevin Powers! How the hell are ya big man? So, tell me, how did you enjoy your stint at Anniversary last night? The show looked like it was worth the price of admission.”
Powers had been in the business for about twelve to thirteen years now and he’s lived one huge experience. Starting out his early days under the pseudonym Stonewall Owen he didn’t have a care in the world. He did what he wanted and he had fun doing it. As the years progressed things changed and it was never for the better. What he considered fun turned into a business and business wasn’t good. Many elements could be added into this equation, but the main force that didn’t make Powers day is the politics in the business. Politics was the original reason he walked away from the sport and vowed never to return, but with the mind shattering events he is now forced to live with. Making a deal with the devil himself, otherwise known as Zieba, didn’t help matters in the slightest. Zieba said he would be best if Powers returned to the sport that he enjoyed in the past and let him worry about the important matters. “You just beat people up on-screen and I’ll worry about the figureheads off-stage.” Zieba told him in the past before Powers made his return to the wrestling world.
He was starting to regret the deal he made, but there was nothing he could do to change it.
“Yeah, everything was cool. Same old place, same old theme.”
Laughing on the other side of the phone, Zieba couldn’t resist saying the next sentence, “So Thomas is holding the fort down pretty good? He doesn’t have Red flashbacks does he?”
“Thomas wanted me to pass a message to you,” Powers said with a slight sneer, “He wanted to know how GWE was runnin’.”
“Cute.” The laughter obviously died when Powers relayed the message to him. “Shouldn’t you be making your way back to Tokyo? You do have an important match coming up ya know?”
Powers pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment and looks up as if he’s trying to hold back words he really wants to say to the former Co-Owner of GWE, “I was getting ready to head towards Piedmont Triad International just before you called.”
“Okay man okay. Settle down. Relax. Breathe in … breathe out. I’m just looking out for your best interest and you know that. I’m just making sure that you’re good and ready to face Doc Silver in New Frontier Wrestling and get that strap from him.”
“You know I don’t …”
Zieba cut him off before Powers could finish, “I know you don’t care about belts, but hey … your stock is rising my friend. You just do what you do best INSIDE of the ring and I’ll take care of everything else OUTSIDE of it. Now I don’t want to hold ya up. Get back to Tokyo, relax, and hell … go party with Hiroshi. Consider it paid for.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Putting the cell back in his pocket Powers stood in place for a moment before heading towards the taxi and shuttles that were waiting outside for people needed hops to the airport. Walking outside, Powers notices a limo parked off towards the left with a man standing in front of it holding up a sigh that bears Powers’ name.
“What’s this for?”
“Are you Kevin Powers?”
“Yes, who wants to know?”
“Very well then, this limo is courtesy of Mr. Zieba. He said he wants to make sure you have the very best.”
“That bastard.” Powers muttered under his breath. What he wanted to do was to pick up the limo driver and launch him through the front windshield, but he gained his composure and considered a different plan. Reaching for his cell again he made one call.
“Hey Kin its Powers. Ya need a lift to the airport? We’ll be there in a few … consider it a gift from my (ahem) benefactor …”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
EPILOGUE
Within the desert wasteland, as far as the eye can see, without being blindsided by constant mirages, lies a giant black structure. While the sun beams down and continues to bombard the surface with its constant punishing heat, inside the black building lies another story. Protected by the sun, the facility contains things you would never even consider seeing in the desert. Kitchen, work out room, and even a built in botanical garden, the domain would be a safe haven for anyone who managed to make it there.
Too bad it is considered private property.
There is one room inside the black building people might consider strange. Walking inside, against the walls, rows of monitors continue to flicker from station to station. Looking towards the center of the room, the backside of what could be considered an executive chair can be seen with a table next to its right side.
In the past the room, and the building for that matter, hasn’t been inhabited considering its owner was away for long periods at a time, but that was the past. Today, while watching one of the monitors, a hand can be seen going towards the table and reaching for a remote control. Pointing towards one of the monitor, the owner pushes a button and the image of Kevin Powers can be seen frozen on one of the screens. He pushes another button and all the monitors in the room switch to the image of Kevin Powers.
“Kevin …”
:::?:::
During his stay at Greensboro, ‘Good God’ Kevin Powers made the most of his time by reacquainting himself with old friends as well as meeting new workers for the first time either at Anniversary or at CSWA Towers. At the same time he was never one to let the fans down. From posing for photographs to signing empty Bacardi bottles (of all things), Kevin Powers always had a smile on his face when he had to do his thing for the fans and anyone associated with CSWA.
But, when everyone turned away, they never saw the real Powers and the anguish he continued to go through day after day.
As much as he tried to run away and escape his past, the memories he retained would not allow him to do so. No matter how many times he put on an act for the crowd, and for that matter his friends and co-workers, he could not escape the torment that continued to infiltrate his mind.
“Why? Why can’t you just let me be? Have I not been punished enough? I’m sorry for my crime and I throw myself at your mercy! Please, I beg of you, have pity on me you ruthless bastard!”
Collecting his belongings from the Marriott Greensboro High Point hotel, Powers couldn’t help but to say to himself, “Maybe I should just run. I did my appearances to let them know I’m still alive. That should make them happy. Shouldn’t it?”
He made his way down towards the lobby area and was preparing to make his way out the door until he heard the familiar tone of his cell phone going off. Pulling his Motorola Razr V3 (It’s a quad-band) cell phone out of his pocket he could clearly hear the ‘Halloween’ theme music playing from it. He only associated that ring tone to one person and he we never happy to talk to him.
“Hello Zieba. What’s new?”
“Kevin Powers! How the hell are ya big man? So, tell me, how did you enjoy your stint at Anniversary last night? The show looked like it was worth the price of admission.”
Powers had been in the business for about twelve to thirteen years now and he’s lived one huge experience. Starting out his early days under the pseudonym Stonewall Owen he didn’t have a care in the world. He did what he wanted and he had fun doing it. As the years progressed things changed and it was never for the better. What he considered fun turned into a business and business wasn’t good. Many elements could be added into this equation, but the main force that didn’t make Powers day is the politics in the business. Politics was the original reason he walked away from the sport and vowed never to return, but with the mind shattering events he is now forced to live with. Making a deal with the devil himself, otherwise known as Zieba, didn’t help matters in the slightest. Zieba said he would be best if Powers returned to the sport that he enjoyed in the past and let him worry about the important matters. “You just beat people up on-screen and I’ll worry about the figureheads off-stage.” Zieba told him in the past before Powers made his return to the wrestling world.
He was starting to regret the deal he made, but there was nothing he could do to change it.
“Yeah, everything was cool. Same old place, same old theme.”
Laughing on the other side of the phone, Zieba couldn’t resist saying the next sentence, “So Thomas is holding the fort down pretty good? He doesn’t have Red flashbacks does he?”
“Thomas wanted me to pass a message to you,” Powers said with a slight sneer, “He wanted to know how GWE was runnin’.”
“Cute.” The laughter obviously died when Powers relayed the message to him. “Shouldn’t you be making your way back to Tokyo? You do have an important match coming up ya know?”
Powers pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment and looks up as if he’s trying to hold back words he really wants to say to the former Co-Owner of GWE, “I was getting ready to head towards Piedmont Triad International just before you called.”
“Okay man okay. Settle down. Relax. Breathe in … breathe out. I’m just looking out for your best interest and you know that. I’m just making sure that you’re good and ready to face Doc Silver in New Frontier Wrestling and get that strap from him.”
“You know I don’t …”
Zieba cut him off before Powers could finish, “I know you don’t care about belts, but hey … your stock is rising my friend. You just do what you do best INSIDE of the ring and I’ll take care of everything else OUTSIDE of it. Now I don’t want to hold ya up. Get back to Tokyo, relax, and hell … go party with Hiroshi. Consider it paid for.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Putting the cell back in his pocket Powers stood in place for a moment before heading towards the taxi and shuttles that were waiting outside for people needed hops to the airport. Walking outside, Powers notices a limo parked off towards the left with a man standing in front of it holding up a sigh that bears Powers’ name.
“What’s this for?”
“Are you Kevin Powers?”
“Yes, who wants to know?”
“Very well then, this limo is courtesy of Mr. Zieba. He said he wants to make sure you have the very best.”
“That bastard.” Powers muttered under his breath. What he wanted to do was to pick up the limo driver and launch him through the front windshield, but he gained his composure and considered a different plan. Reaching for his cell again he made one call.
“Hey Kin its Powers. Ya need a lift to the airport? We’ll be there in a few … consider it a gift from my (ahem) benefactor …”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
EPILOGUE
Within the desert wasteland, as far as the eye can see, without being blindsided by constant mirages, lies a giant black structure. While the sun beams down and continues to bombard the surface with its constant punishing heat, inside the black building lies another story. Protected by the sun, the facility contains things you would never even consider seeing in the desert. Kitchen, work out room, and even a built in botanical garden, the domain would be a safe haven for anyone who managed to make it there.
Too bad it is considered private property.
There is one room inside the black building people might consider strange. Walking inside, against the walls, rows of monitors continue to flicker from station to station. Looking towards the center of the room, the backside of what could be considered an executive chair can be seen with a table next to its right side.
In the past the room, and the building for that matter, hasn’t been inhabited considering its owner was away for long periods at a time, but that was the past. Today, while watching one of the monitors, a hand can be seen going towards the table and reaching for a remote control. Pointing towards one of the monitor, the owner pushes a button and the image of Kevin Powers can be seen frozen on one of the screens. He pushes another button and all the monitors in the room switch to the image of Kevin Powers.
“Kevin …”
:::?:::