1800

The two of them sat there staring at Champion like he was already a corpse.

Scrutinising his every movement, Georgina Valentine and Dominic Pericolo both sat side by side sharing the same look of concern. They knew that his condition had worsened dramatically over the past few weeks; the black outs had become more frequent, the vomiting had intensified and his physical demeanour had deteriorated to the point whereby he was almost unrecognisable...

But this was still the man that they had both grown to know and love.

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this tonight, Champ?” said Pericolo with a degree of desperation. Of course, he knew the answer to the question: Champion was far too stubborn to withdraw from such a high profile match, but, still, he had to ask.

“You’ve been asking me this question every time I’ve stepped foot into the ring for the past three months,” replied Champion with a wry giggle. A spluttering cough irked out of his mouth and forced Pericolo and Georgina to exchange a nervous glance.

Taking no notice of their warnings, Champion continued to lace his boots up; it was time to go to war.

“We just worry, Chris, that’s all,” said Georgina, wrapping her long blonde hair around her shoulder and moving to stroke his neck.

“Well, try not to, ok?” said Champion sharply. “The only concern I have at the moment is setting the record straight with Majors and giving these people something to remember. I’ve got the privilege of main eventing the final match in NLCW PPV history. That alone brings a lot of pressure. I’ve got to say though, I’m just feeling pumped right now; no worries, no nothing.”

The thought of walking out in front of such an electric crowd for the final time forced goose bumps to sprout up on his arms. There was always something just that little bit more special about a Slamfest crowd; the roars seemed to stretch back for miles and the energy they gave off could have powered a nuclear plant.

“I know how you must feel, Champ,” added Pericolo. “I just wish it was me and you going out there for the final time, you know?”

“Heh, there’s a part of me that’d gladly swap, Perculator,” said Champion. He paused for a moment and offered a cheeky grin that revealed his passion for battle. “But then there’s another side of me that says, fuck it, let’s do this one more time.”

The dressing room door opened abruptly as one of the stagehands walked in with a clip board. He was middle aged, bald and had an ear piece dangling off the side of his face. He beckoned to Champion with his right arm.

“Time to go, buddy,” he said.

Champion nodded.

Turning to Georgina and Pericolo, he offered them a look of finality. No further words needed to be spoken; the truth bled from his eyes with a grave sincerity. Pulling in a lungful of oxygen, he steadied himself and began to pace forwards towards the door, knowing that the end was close at hand.

Remember me, he thought. Remember what I’ve done.

They gave their silent reply in kind.