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Part One
He sat in an empty locker room, still in disbelief. Well, it wasn't really disbelief as much as it was disappointment. It was a sad, sad performance tonight. His last chance to show the world that he is still the Cornerstone of the this company, and he blew it all. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He was simply outclassed tonight. He was beaten in the middle of the ring. You can say what you want about the tights being held or the referee being out of position or even about Kat getting involded, but none of that matters. All that matters is who walks out of that ring with his arm raised and the title on his shoulder. And that woman was Emma McIntyre He looked down at his bag. In a confused rage after the match he had walked into the locker room and thrown his gear at the wall. He stormed into the shower, hoping the steam and the heat combined with the time alone would help clear his mind. It did nothing of the sort. It only gave him time to think. And all he thought about was the loss. All he thought about was the letdown. All he thought about was how he did not accomplish his goal. He had all the motivation in the world. He had every reason to go out there and put on the show of his life. There is no holding back anymore. This is the twilight of his career. There is no tomorrow. There is no excuse for not putting every ounce of effort into everything you do anymore. And he didn't do it. He didn't give it his all. He failed. He slowly started putting his gear into his bag. His tights, his shirt, his elbow pads and knee pads, his boots. One thing was missing. The HIW Elite Championship. That title sat in someone else's locker room. That title now belonged to Chester once again. He held it for a months time. Just like he held it before that. What was the point of winning a title only to lose it again a few weeks later. Is this what he has come to? A washed-up veteran at the end of his career, desperately trying to cling to past glory by snapping up title reigns, only to make a fool of himself and lose them once again. This is pathetic. This isn't Johnny Styles. He sighed and slammed his bag back down onto the seat beside him. He stook up slowly and looked around. This was one of the last times he was going to be standing in an HIW locker room. This was one of the last times he would have this feeling. And he blew it. He should be out celebrating right now, instead he was sulking around the locker room. Suddenly the door opened. He turned around and saw an arena official standing there. "Are you gonna be here much longer? I need to lock this place up." "Give me like five more minutes and I'll be gone." "Sure thing." The man shut the door and walked away. Johnny Styles wanted to leave, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't walk away. He was clutching onto something that he should have let go years ago. He wasn't a star anymore. He wasn't worthy of top billing. His name got him main events. His past accomplishments earned him title matches. He hadn't done anything worthwhile in a long time, and yet he still kept going out there and embarassing himself. This is exactly what he did not want to become, This is what he had feared he would become. He was "that guy." He was the veteran who didn't know when to stop, the old man who couldn't let go of his youth, the sucker who didn't know he sucked. His cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the phone, snapped it open and held it to his ear, "Hello?" ...... "Hi babe." ...... "No, I'm still in the arena." ...... "I know, I know, but this was different. I shouldn't have lost this one. You know how badly I wanted this." ...... "Yeah, I'll call you later okay?" ...... "Don't worry. Bye." There was no reason for him to still be here. He should be back in the hotel, talking to his lady, getting a rest. He shouldn't be standing in an empty locker room, pining away for days gone by. But that's all he had left. Memories. The past. History. And that's what he was: History. It was over. Johnny Styles career was over, he just hadn't realised it yet. But he was starting to. He now knew that it was coming to an end. Maybe the loss to Emma was good for him. Maybe it knocked some sense into him. Maybe he could finally realise what was happening here. The days were starting to slow down, that light at the end of the tunnel was creeping closer. And if he didn't want to end his career as a washed up, pathetic loser grasping to fragments of a successful past, he would have to turn it up. He would have to be better. He would have to work harder than he had in years. He no longer had the natural talent to be able to overwhelm anyone inside of the ring based on ability alone. For the past year he had succeeded based on effort moreso than skill. And yet recently he had forgotten that. He had let his minor bouts of success get to his head. He tried to coast along without trying when it was hard work and discpline that had extended his career long after ability and natural talent had gone away. He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the locker room. He was only going to do this one more time in his career. Was he going to fuck it up again? CONTINUE |