NLCW When Worlds Collide Undisputed championship Dead Man's Draw match - Isaac Reynolds(c) vs Dazz (September 28th 2008)
Page 3 of 4 - The candidates go head to head

Unusual wasn’t the word for it. In fact, it was far beyond that. The fact that here he was preparing to finally go for the American championship after watching others competing for it for so long since its name change from the PPV championship and who was the current champion? Isaac Reynolds.

Reynolds had only got that championship because it was handed to him by one of his Anarchy Inc team mates, trading in the Television championship which Dazz had handed to him after a count out victory and swapping it for the American title, the two members seemingly having no problem at all disrespecting a championship belt in that manner. Other wrestlers had to work hard to earn a shot, making them push to the absolute limits of their abilities as much as humanly possible, only to see the titles traded the way they had been? It just wasn’t right at all. It seemed that management had no qualms about letting behaviour such as this go almost unnoticed and unpunished. Back in the day, when Chaos A.D. attempted things like that, those in the offices higher up in the company came down hard on them. Of course they would just ignore it and brush off as if it were nothing and continue but the fact was that even so, to act in that way would cause a company’s officials to make a decision and put things right. Here though, they were perfectly accepting of Isaac somehow being allowed to have a joke of a match against somebody on the same side as himself and handing the title he held to his opponent and fellow faction member whilst taking in his possession the championship of more worth.

It upset him as much as it angered him. Here he was, having been told to work from the bottom after spending only a few months away from the company and having to watch those either new or returning after much longer periods of time being inserted instantly into major championship matches. To say it seemed more than a little unfair would be a colossal understatement. Then again, if this was what NLCW had been reduced to, awarding people with mediocre talent whatever title shots and opportunities at hand to either appease their ego or as some sort of unusual and maybe even slightly amateurish way of running a company to help push younger people to find the right track to become greats. Some may say that his fast track to the main event was built off similar principles and that his thoughts now were both degrading and downright insulting to those in the here and now but the truth was, back then people did what it took to show they had the talent to make it while these days – at least from what he could see – any old man or woman could walk in, have a poor match and show almost zero talent while fans – either easily pleased or paid – cheered them on.

He wanted to show that he also had what it takes to become somebody who fans cheered on through victory after victory, no matter who it would be standing opposite him in the ring. He’d held the Television championship, a goal of his since he hadn’t before and had done it by defeating Isaac Reynolds. Now he needed to hold the American championship at least once before hoping to move up to where he belonged in the World Heavyweight title picture, wanting to get in a third reign, maybe more if possible, adding to his already impressive NLCW resume whilst showing the fans and everybody within the company that he still had what it takes to accomplish that.

He needed to add to that resume though by having the only championship he hadn’t held in NLCW, the American championship. It felt odd that he hadn’t even had a shot at trying to win it yet but that would soon change hopefully because he had his sights firmly fixed on trying to become champion, on winning it and feeling as if his life was now somehow strangely complete. The only thing was, would he be granted the opportunity or would he have to continue tying to battle his way through barriers put up purposefully by management to watch him struggle and try to scramble over their invisible yet very high walls, laughing at his expense while he scratched and clawed to pull himself over the top and emerge on the other side ready, willing and able to tread through the marshes of opportunity until reaching his goal at last. Only months earlier he first held the NLCW Television championship, finally gaining it in his first challenge for the gold, skipping it over entirely many years ago when he first started by going straight to the top within 2 months, causing some mild jealousy and bitterness amongst one or two people but they were soon gone from the company anyway while he battled against some of the very best the company had to offer at that time.

The landscape had changed a lot over the years and now - after being told to go from the bottom either to allow him to work his way up legitimately like he wanted to at times or whether it was some sort of way for management to keep him away from winning a 3rd World title while their handpicked gladiators did their thing despite the fact he was a marquee name in the company – he’d reached that bottom tiered championship, held it for a mere week and even if it bothered him he didn’t exactly set the world on fire with his short reign, at least he went down in the record books as a former Television champion. Now he wanted to be champion of the midcard, champion of the United States of America where he’d made his home away from home after leaving Canada, where he’d began his music and wrestling careers and gained much success within both fields.

He still craved success and wished to achieve even more by becoming the American champion. It seemed pretty stupid and even a little pathetic to maybe spend the entire basis of his career on winning championships just because he hadn’t and to gain a title with the reason that he needed it to complete some sort of set as though he were a collector looking for that last baseball card or that last model airplane. Was he really stooping to such levels? Was he becoming one of those people who only cared about the championships he’s won and held and not the fact that this business was all about the competition, the fun, the sportsmanship? Then again, he figured that since there were others able to do that, coming back after having sat on the sidelines for any amount of time up to a year with their return overhyped and with only some of those in the locker room excited, being included in title matches almost instantly while those who fans genuinely cared about and felt excited at their return – guys like Dazz – weren’t allowed to for unknown reasons, having to look on with anger and resentment until the fun had been taken out of competing and instead they were like robots having title matches for the sake of holding a title rather than to help take a belt to a certain standard of competition and make it meaningful.

That was why he had to do this, had to attempt to gain something he hadn’t had yet before he could move onto challenging for that World Heavyweight championship he’d been acquainted with twice before here and was denied repeatedly since returning. Again, that whole thing about being told he couldn’t waltz into the battle for it, returning to a roaring crowd and starting from the bottom again against the Kwik siblings while months later watching people come back to the company after having been away longer than he had and yet there they were, their return match being in the main event of a ppv for the World title. Fair? Certainly not, even Faith and others in the locker room at the time and since had pointed it out many times, Tanya Black herself adding to that feeling after noticing the exact same thing.

This had to be the one thing he did that could help himself since management weren’t willing to give him that elusive World title shot again and again until he won it back having not even lost it in the first place. Maybe becoming American champion and defeating a guy that seemed to be the golden boy of the company, the next big thing within the ranks even though he seemed unsure of himself and his own sense of direction and really had no idea about real competition having stood by either beating those with little to no talent or with fading abilities due to injury or coming close to retirement or possibly even having people who normally would perform much better somehow losing to him. Maybe he had friends or some sort of relation in charge to allow him to continue winning when half the time he didn’t deserve to because his performance was lacklustre and not worthy of what he could be capable of but then again, bitterness was set deep with his very being, lashing out and accusing almost the entire roster at some point of that. It wasn’t fair to those who were innocently winning their matches through hard work and luck but he’d been involved in his fair share of screwjobs in his time and it affected him to a degree.

Then again that whole Anarchy Inc thing bothered him. The sole reason he was even holding the American title was because he and another member had a match which wasn’t actually a match, not serious in the competition aspect and just seeming to happen so that this wonder boy could be handed a higher tiered championship, trading it for the Television title he held previously rather than having to work towards it after losing his own title belt like others had to. Wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened before, probably wouldn’t be the last but because he desperately wanted to prove himself, to work his ass off in order to be seen as worthy enough to even contend for the American championship before finally being given his shot, to see two members of that group have a match scheduled at their request with management seemingly not caring much to question why it could be happening or not refusing on the grounds that Isaac was still Television champion and needed to lose that belt legitimately before working his way up…..why was it allowed? Dazz remembered having one member of management speak to him while he was Hardcore champion saying that Mark Steele and the rest of the management team were high on his work and very impressed but that maybe he should lose that Hardcore championship if he wanted to have a chance at gaining a shot at the World title like they wanted to give him if he proved himself and showed he wanted that title shot as much as they thought he deserved.

Therefore again, it made no sense to him whatsoever. All he knew was that it seemed like those titles had lost their prestige and become as little thought of as baseball cards being traded between friends or colleagues rather than the objects that professional wrestlers should work their best for to earn and gain a sense of pride and accomplishment in their work. Other champions had it. Matt “Icey” Arren had held that Television championship for months and treated it as if it were the World title itself, Rick Majors one of the most sought after people in the company due to the fact that the Cruiserweight championship was the World title of the division that consisted of those under a certain weight class while today that belt was almost largely ignored and forgotten, people losing weight to be able to challenge for it, winning it and then nothing, seeing it as just an easy title to gain and then hold continuously for months and months without defending it until the next person came along wanting to challenge purely to put it down on their resume that they held this number of championships without trying to make themselves or the titles they wished to hold mean anything. Maybe that was what was wrong with wrestling today?

That was another reason why he decided to challenge for this, not just wanting to hold this belt but wanting to try and bring some prestige and meaning to it so that hopefully others may follow suit. It seemed as though only the World title was seen as the belt to have and while yeah, if you didn’t want that title why are you in this industry but at the same time, to see it as the sole focus while other championships went festering and unseen was ridiculous. Fans were out in force all over the internet complaining about the fact that while before there were huge feuds between big names and newcomers alike for every single championship, now it seemed that the big feuds were saved only for those “lucky” few who seemed to dominate and hog the World Heavyweight championship scene when frankly, he felt most of them didn’t deserve that. He hoped that by trying to win it and perhaps having some luck in that goal that maybe he could bring some worth and meaning to the belt. Then again, knowing how things were lately in this business, he had a feeling that even if he was American champion and going out there week after week creating a spectacle for the fans to enjoy, it would still be seen as meaningless and remain forgotten while all eyes of management and the locker room remained on one thing, that World title.


******


He looked at her, noting the frown and total look of disbelief spread all over her face. She was incredibly beautiful every second of the day and he didn’t know how she managed to be such a goddess on a regular basis. Whether she were frowning, smiling, angry or in the throes of passion with him, Karla Kotero – that gorgeous Latina he’d met recently at a local independent wrestling company’s show in Southern California – made him feel alive and lucky to be in the constant company of such a thing of radiant and attractive femininity. She was normally all smiles, flashing those big brown eyes at him with a twinkle within them but this time she looked confused and bewildered.

Karla: You’re gonna buy WHAT?!

Dazz: I’m gonna buy the entire Strip for just a few hours, hold a tickertape parade with balloons and confetti and huge promotional billboards like a Presidential election.

The look on her face said it all. She didn’t believe he was in his right mind to be coming up with something like this. She shouldn’t be too worried nor concerned though, after all she enjoyed spending lots of money, including his, in stores wherever they happened to be in the world, continuing her love of the more luxurious in life by having him purchase Jimmy Choo shoes or Gucci purses or clothing from Dolce & Gabbana and other such expensive brands. He didn’t complain though because the suits and casual attire he liked to wear came from the same stores anyway, in fact he owned various sunglasses made by the likes of Prada, Armani, Gucci, Ray Bans and Diesel, not to mention the other gifts he had bought for himself or given to him by Karla through her own casual expenditures.

Should she really be surprised then that he was spending a lot of money in this case? He felt he’d needed to throw some of his earnings at this purely to aid his cause and send a message to his employers whom he felt were unscrupulous and perhaps even harboured some sort of grudge against him. Why else would he be told to start from the very bottom of the ladder after just a few months away while those who spent even longer away from the business were allowed to just waltz right in, become the focus of the show once more and be implanted directly into championship matches which he felt they hadn’t deserved nor earned yet. How is it that anybody who competed and main evented for this company during what he termed the “Golden Age” be so disrespected, be so forgotten while those who came into it after that period seemingly became remembered as “greats” after managing to become the stars of the show.

That was what he was trying to combat, the kind of thinking that led to those who took over as management or even owners to ignore many of those who helped make NLCW what it was today and focus only on those he considered undeserving or unworthy of taking up the mantle of NLCW legend. It seemed unusual to say the least. While he also admired and respected those he’d looked up to as he began in professional wrestling and talked about them with a sort of fondness that made him almost like an elderly gentleman telling stories on the porch of his home to the grandchildren even if he held a storied rivalry with those same athletes, everybody around him within this place had the tendency to roll their eyes, act like he was this crazy old fool who should be ignored and pushed into a cobweb-strewn backroom. It didn’t seem right to him whatsoever.

It got him thinking hard about the situation. Jason Stylez was the first ever NLCW World champion and had done it all not just in this company but in others yet was largely forgotten by management, at times even treated as some sort of a joke. Sure he sometimes obliged and cracked the odd retirement joke about him too but there was still that feeling of respect despite their battles. The fact that he’d discovered – thanks to Jason himself – that they were related also helped his feelings of respect. Then there was Rob Thorn, arguably one of the industry’s most charismatic and best-loved men, insanely popular with fans constantly yet he wasn’t remembered by anybody but the man who felt pride in not only competing against him but also wrestling the World title away from him. To everybody else he was almost like an insignificant leaf that had fallen off a tree during Fall and rotted away, being trodden on and kicked by those walking through with barely any notice or attention. Faith too was in a similar situation even though she’d been competing in NLCW for much longer than Thorn did and was even currently competing to become Women’s champion again here. Even though they had broken up and he was currently dating Karla, he still felt something for the woman he’d spent so much time with over the years and still respected her talents and abilities inside the ring, something which others were seemingly incapable of doing.

Even “The Impact” himself Rick Majors was only remembered for being the longest reigning champion in NLCW history, holding that Cruiserweight title undefeated for 42 weeks. He’d been a part of the Fallen Angelz, had brought Higher Authority to NLCW and even won the right to run it in a tag team match, battling hard against former tag team partners and suffering injuries but again, like the others, largely ignored by anybody other than those who sat on the sidelines watching him in action back in the day. Even Ethan Andrews became a joke figure in some corners of the locker room despite the fact that only years before, he seemed to somehow be the only person respected and remembered as a World champion.

Those were the very reasons he was so determined to pay whatever amount necessary to accomplish this somewhat over the top way of finally earning the respect and the idolization and adoration of the locker room and management. The fans loved him, the writers and critics loved him, it seemed they were the only ones who recognized his accomplishments, his accolades gained in this company, the very fact that yes he was capable of being the star of the show once again if given the chance. That was the thing though, despite pulling out all the stops and stealing the show constantly, despite going one better than those in the World Heavyweight title picture every time he set foot inside a ring, he was still pushed aside and not given his chance to become the face of NLCW for a third time. Even if, like last month, he outwrestled opponents he still contended with the general ignorance and disrespectful manner with which he somehow dealt with. Others left the company long ago but he remained, still a few goals left to achieve, chief amongst them getting that respect he craved.

If this could help him gain that then it was only right to go through with this. Karla continued to stare at him, an uneasy feeling visible by the look on her face, still unsure if this man she spent every waking and sleeping moment with since they’d met was in his right mind to make such a decision. She sat in the plush white chair of their penthouse suite at the Mirage hotel and casino in the heart of Las Vegas wearing little more than a pair of his black Calvin Klein boxer shorts and a matching halter top, lounging back with her legs over the arm of the comfortable chair while he sat in a similar seat opposite her, nothing more than a pair of navy blue shorts after having used the Mirage’s private gym area for those VIP guests staying or living in the building.

Karla: You’re joking right?

He looked at her, his brow furrowing only slightly but enough for her to notice and perhaps even know that no, he wasn’t joking, he was deadly serious. She should know how he was feeling anyway, he’d talked about it before during one of their drunken tirades, bitching and complaining about the world and everything in it. Hell, she was the one who ran straight to the first official she could see immediately after his loss at When World Collide, wanting to know where the referee for that match was hiding and wanting to destroy him for the fast count that cost her man the American championship, almost demanding that the company apologise to the two of them for such an outrage. After all of that and her constant desire to see him as the rightful American champ, was she now suddenly having a change of heart or did she not understand his absolute desire to be crowned the champion?

Dazz: Of course I’m not joking. I really want to be the champ and this is my way of showing how much I need this.

Karla: Ok. Only if you’re absolutely sure this will work because it looks to me like this place won’t let you win anyway, they’re only out for themselves and their friends.

He sat back, absolutely shocked and astounded. Karla had said the exact same words Faith used to say to him while they were together, these sentiments echoed by a different female 2 or 3 years after he’d first heard them. All he could do was just nod in agreement because she was right of course, because he wasn’t particularly close to those who seemed to consistently dominate the title picture all across the board or wasn’t cosy with those in charge, he had to satisfy himself in his own special corner of the locker room area and deal with the blatant favouritism that seemed to reign supreme.

Dazz: Baby I know but the fact is, one day they’ll have to acknowledge the fact that without me, this place wouldn’t be the same.

Karla: Well we’ll see but this time I know you’ll win, if you don’t then there’s something wrong with this place.

He shared her thoughts and sentiments, wondering if there really was something wrong with him at times but then realizing that he was doing everything he could show how great he was, coming to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t him at all to blame but NLCW itself. There was nothing more he could do to top himself and had reached that glass ceiling he hadn’t been familiar with for years, almost as if he’d managed to contact a long lost companion after so many years apart. If he was going all out day to day and still not gaining that championship then it must be that the blame laid squarely at the feet of those who ran the company. Yes there was athleticism going on inside the ring but he knew that there could be politics rearing their ugly heads too, whispers in the ear, bribes handed directly into pockets, disabling him at the very last hurdle just as he had his fingertips on whatever it is he was battling to attain, whether it be a championship or a much needed win or whatever it may be.

All he needed to do was just prove himself worthy and capable of pulling out all the stops, this idea he had in his head which Karla had became shocked and surprised at would certainly put his eye for the grandiose and grand scale showcase of his in ring abilities into the limelight and grab people’s attentions. Perhaps this could even push him above water in the championship stakes, finally acquire him that so far elusive American title before he could get that extra push towards the third NLCW World championship reign he so richly and wholeheartedly felt he deserved. In the meantime though, there was the small matter of trying to organise his plans at such short notice, try and help his own chances of winning since it seemed that he had to rely on his own abilities and intelligence while others relied on the handouts and “gifts” awarded them by those supposedly neutral thinking bosses. The first thing he had to do was get on the phone and speak to the mayor or maybe even the Nevada Governor just in case he had to take this higher up, unsure of whether he’d be passed onto the Governor’s offices anyway. Something of this scale may have to be taken to the top but again, just as he was about to decide on something, he changed his mind and left him confused. He did have to call somebody but wasn’t sure who.

Karla meanwhile sat in her chair, lounging with a champagne flute in a firm yet dainty grip, holding it by the neck between her fingers as she sits quietly with a magazine rested on her silky thighs, her eyes gently darting as she scans every word on the page, drinking in the information, unaware of her boyfriend’s inner conflicts and turmoil over this decision to hold such a huge event. Grabbing his phone, he dialed a number and waited patiently, the sound of ringing as he held the cell to his ear. Eventually, after what seemed like forever a female voice answered.

Female: Good afternoon, you’ve reached the Mayor’s offices, how may I help you?

The voice sounded gentle and warming and also like it belonged to an older female though he couldn’t be sure of that.

Dazz: Yeah, hi, this is Dazz from Havok Rising. Listen, I need to ask the mayor a really big favour so is he in or do I need an appointment?

Female: I’m afraid you will, may I book one for you?

This was it, he was in. All he had to do was give his details, a contact number and sit patiently to wait for the call to see the mayor. He couldn’t believe his luck, nor how easy it had been. He had to make the most of this, sell himself and try to make himself and his plans guaranteed to succeed. It should be fairly easy though, he was a master at words and could talk the back legs off an elephant if necessary


******


What an amazing day this had been. First of all he had managed to get the permission to hold a parade down The Strip, Las Vegas, usually used to massive spectacles of grandeur and the glitz and glamour usually associated with this place, found itself dumbfounded at the elegance with which Dazz had endeavoured to bring to this fabulous gambling capital of the world. How he did it even he couldn’t tell, Karla had sat in her trouser suit and flip flops looking astonished as her man talked the mayor round to allowing this event to take place, to bring some of that fantastic idea he initially had in his head and see it created in reality before moving along the long road he’d traveled upon during his many times in Vegas either going from his suite at The Mirage hotel and casino to whichever show he had to attend, returning from one or just having fun moving up and down to every entertainment-laden building along here. He wanted to try and match or even top the usual spectacles that took place here, doing so in his own inimitable style and – thanks to Karla’s input in what to wear or what else to include – he’d most certainly accomplish that.

From the very beginning of the day he knew he had something special on his hands, the atmosphere, the excitement lingering in the air, something definitely very special was going to give Las Vegas a taste of its own medicine. He gave a look to his beautiful woman, noting the smile in the bright sunlight that gave even the colossal star at the centre of the solar system a run for its money. As ever she looked absolutely stunning, currently wearing tight designer jeans that fitted her muscular yet firm legs perfectly, white boots with big heels making her appear slightly taller than she actually was, typically a small female that still managed to pack a tremendous punch inside the ring. She had on a white top that managed to be a mixture of a regular dress shirt and a halter top, another piece of designer wear that she must have purchased during her big shopping trip yesterday, buying it along with several other outfits for today and everyday wear while he tried on various suits and other apparel.

Her hair was down, long and black hanging over those slender shoulders which he leant forwards to kiss after first brushing aside some of her hair in a swift sweeping motion. He grinned at her, causing a similar reaction from her and a glint in those eyes that he could stare into for hours, prompting her to kiss his bare chest and magnificently chiseled abdominal muscles before taking his jaw gently in both hands, causing him to lower his head a little closer to her.

Karla: So, looking forward to today?

He nodded slowly and intently, allowing her to see his reaction without needing to utter a single word. The truth was, he could hardly contain himself over this day but wanted to keep it in, continue to look cool and collected and not make her think he was a dork for getting too excited even though he could scream and holler with delight at the fact he’d set up such a huge event. This must be what the big festival promoters who created Woodstock or the Reading and Leeds Festivals or the Big Day Out or even Rock AM Ring in Germany must have felt on those very first days they came into being after so much planning and preparation. Of course he’d been a part of parades before but never the creator of one, not until now anyway. It was truly a delight though to see Karla proud of him and wished that perhaps the luck he’d had in making this possible today would then translate inside the ring come the ppv where he’d finally get a hold of that elusive American championship. His hands found themselves on Karla’s wrists as she gently pushed a finger into his mouth, letting him suck it for a second before she removed her digit and he moved forwards, the two allowing their mouths to open and their tongues to meet before their lips locked in a passionate embrace.

Eventually he broke it off, a slightly disappointed look emerging on her face as he smiled and held his hands around her waist, looking deep into her eyes.

Dazz: Sorry but if we carry on like that we’d probably end up fucking.

She smiled and grabbed at his ass, squeezing gently before reaching up to caress his long dark locks.

Karla: I’m down with that if you are.

He laughed, gently kissing her again as they held each other. He’d love to but right now he had to focus and concentrate more on making sure this parade was as successful as possible, a way to grab the attention of the NLCW owners and management to let them know that he wasn’t going to sit back and take whatever bullshit they wanted to throw at him, whether telling him to sit back and wait while somebody like Tanya Black got a title shot ahead of him or whether he had to relinquish his chance to compete for the World title in his own created match even though they knew as well as anybody that he had every right to become involved in that for obvious reasons. The fact was, Dazz was here to stay and here to make amends for what he felt to be a major oversight in how he was used on the shows. Here he was, a key player, being treated like dirt even though he was one of the few reasons that NLCW became the big company that it now was. How was that fair? It wasn’t right and he had to do this huge event in Vegas to change their perceptions and hopefully allow him to finally be at the pinnacle of the main event scene, sick of them trying to justify their pathetic reasons for leaving him behind in the dust while others were promoted high up in the ranks that he felt didn’t deserve that either just yet if ever.

Besides, he needed to try and conserve his energy right now, needing it for today’s festivities just in case, not wanting to feel fatigued if he had to sign autographs for hours or talk with those who showed up to this momentous occasion. He didn’t want to end up feeling tired and needing to rest after another energetic romp with Karla, preferring to get his rest late at night while they lay in bed after an exhausting showing of their sexual prowess, allowing themselves to be conquests to one another, connecting every which way. He had to be the bearer of bad news to this woman no matter how hot she was.

Dazz: You know I’d love to but maybe we can save it for tonight, let you have a piece of me after I’ve single handedly gave everyone turning up today a reason to pick me as their hero. How’s that sound?

She looked a little disappointed, pouting slightly at being told she couldn’t screw the guy she enjoyed having inside her constantly, the two normally being the type of couple to need prying apart with a crowbar once they start but this time being refused. She understood perfectly well of course why he had told her to be patient until later tonight when they could spend all the time in the world back in bed but at the same time she’d felt a glimmer of hope that maybe he could lead her away, sneak off to some quiet and closed off area like they had a few times since first meeting at that independent wrestling company’s show down in the Los Angeles area. He continued to admire her perfect facial features, smiling at her once more.

Dazz: I’m like your Superman baby, nothing’s gonna stop me from destroying Isaac and taking that title.

Karla suddenly burst out laughing, unable to keep her eyes on him, obviously finding what he said funny. Eventually she found a way to control herself and face him, still suppressing the odd giggle but relatively calmer.

Karla: Baboso.

Dazz: Hey now, that’s not very nice is it?

Karla: Your fault for saying something so fucking lame dude.

Dazz: Hey, least it got you smiling.

He was right and she knew it, the two leaning closer to kiss again before finally breaking it and looking into each other’s eyes. Their fingers ran through the long, lush hair of the other as they released a sigh as one.

Karla: I’m gonna have my hair up later I think.

Dazz: Can’t wait to see what she does for you.

Karla nodded, “she” being their stylist friend who always performed such wondrous feats when asked, even breaking important sessions with other clients to be at their beck and call whenever Karla needed her hair to be fashioned in a way that made her look like a multi-million dollar earning actress or if Dazz wanted just a slight trim and blow dry, the stylist knowing that he preferred to not have any kind of fancy styles but keep it simple while also looking like the perfect role model, his hair, his clothing, everything about him giving the essence that if he wasn’t competing in the ring or performing up on stage with a guitar and a microphone that he could possibly become a model for people such as Abercrombie & Fitch or Armani or some other big fashion company’s advertisements promoting their products on television, magazines or billboards. Karla herself could do that too but she much preferred physically dominating and dissecting other females she considered lesser than her inside the ring.

Karla: Listen I better get going, wanna be prepared and ready for our big day.

Dazz: That’s cool, can’t wait to see what you look like.

They shared one more passionate kiss before Karla turned away from him, beginning to walk away as her hips swayed with every movement, that pert ass being his sole point of focus as she watched their limo driver open the back door ready for her to climb inside and take her seat against the soft black leather interior. With a gentle shove, the door closed behind her and his view of this woman was obscured by steel and tinted windows, the limo driver himself walking around the side of the vehicle to the driver’s side and disappearing inside before starting up the engine and taking Karla to The Mirage where she would meet the stylist in their suite. Meanwhile he himself made his way along the sidewalk and into a building where he would get changed and make last minute arrangements with rock band AC/DC who he had scheduled to play while on a parade float. Life was good and it would get better from the moment those golden doors closed behind him.

A receptionist sat behind the front desk with a smile on her face as he flashed one back at her, knowing who he was after having seen him walk in and out of here over the last week when holding meetings with those helping to organise this very day. His feet took him along the hard floor as he found his way towards the elevator and pushed the button, waiting patiently as he began to think about last month. It had been such a great match and to feel screwed over the way he believed happened to keep him from holding that championship, it tainted that slightly and almost ruined the fact that he worked his ass off. He’d booked the skybox for the Avulsion immediately after and planned to show off his freshly won American title but thanks to a crooked referee and Isaac’s penchant for cheating, that wasn’t to be and instead he had to eat the caviar and sip on the champagne with a bitterness running through his entire body. Even Karla herself seemed a little angry at having to sit there in elegant clothing – well, elegant for somebody dressed casually anyway – without her man as the champion, probably feeling as if the fact he didn’t have that belt around his waist, over his shoulder or resting in front of them on the table meant that people would be laughing at her, mocking and insulting because Dazz hadn’t got the job done as many felt he would.

Then to sit there watching the show and find himself being challenged directly by Isaac himself from inside the ring, he had to prove that he could do it again, this time not stealing the championship and walking around with it paraded as if he were the uncrowned holder of that belt – even though in his and Karla’s minds, he was – but would instead let Isaac have that object, knowing that come Havok, the title would be firmly where it belonged. How dare he challenge him though, Isaac a lowly meathead that didn’t deserve that championship daring to insult and goad Dazz while he was there to watch the show in style, living the high life as he usually did. Sometimes that was literally too, Karla’s penchant for marijuana helping ease him back into smoking it for the first time since 2002 when Alex Taylor had reeked of the stuff almost every single day and shared it with his tag team partner.

He had the nerve to say that Dazz was scared to face him, that he couldn’t take him on in a hardcore match because he was more concerned about his looks? How pathetic. Just like a typical newcomer he walked all over one of those who paved the way for him to be a part of this industry and made unfounded claims that he couldn’t allow his face or body to become damaged due to the fact that he was a naturally attractive and well built male without the need to go overboard in the muscle mass department like this idiot inside the ring. Isaac didn’t seem to know or possibly even care about the fact that Dazz was a multiple time Hardcore champion in his career including in NLCW, that he’d been in some dangerous matches in his lifetime, more dangerous than Isaac could even comprehend yet there he was with bold and outlandish utterances.

Maybe he did know though, maybe he was only saying this to entice Dazz into accepting another match, somehow sealing his own fate by having the Messiah of Metal agree to the hardcore stipulation before then becoming surprised that the challenger was destroying him inside the ring live on ppv without realising the mistake he’d made in issuing the challenge and another American title shot. He really didn’t know if that were the case but if it were then he knew deep down, despite the protestations by his girlfriend, that it was right up his street, that he could go back to what he used to be when he began competing and show Isaac and the rest of NLCW that he would not be forgotten or left aside again.

That was why he made today happen, nodding at and shaking hands with AC/DC vocalist Brian Johnson on his way up to the room where he’d get ready in his fancy clothes. That he managed to do, standing looking at himself in a full length mirror as he wore white pants, matching jacket and black shirt open wide to show his abdominal muscles and pectorals, a thick chain around his neck while he gripped his Gucci sunglasses and placed them on his face, covering his eyes to complete the look, admiring himself in this ensemble and feeling proud of himself, looking forward to showing Karla and seeing how she looked for today.

Leaving the room he managed to travel down the elevator alone and in silence, thinking about how this could happen, hoping that the plans would come to fruition without a hitch. Excitement and tension began building slowly, a weird feeling in the very pit of his stomach bubbling towards the surface, having to try to quell and suppress this quickly as the elevator was beginning to reach its destination. The doors opened and he was on his way towards the lobby, walking past reception as every female in the vicinity turned their heads to stare and admire this handsome man in their midst, giving him more reason to smile as he passed on through. That was where he found the limo waiting for him, stepping in as the driver held the door open for him, shutting it behind him as he sat down and grinned at the hot woman already on the seat. Karla looked absolutely stunning, her hair styled beautifully making her facial features even more radiant and hot.

Karla: Wow you look great.

Dazz: Thanks, so do you, that’s amazing.

She smiled as he admired her clothes, the black pinstripe pants, black hat and red sleeveless top really looking fantastic on her. What a sight beholding him, a stunning woman to have on his arm at this event he’d planned with such precision as he began to feel the excitement almost seep through his pores. The limo began to slow down as they came to the crowds waiting and knew that it was almost time; it shocked him just how many of these fine people from Las Vegas and maybe beyond had turned up to this, waving banners and cheering at the parade floats as the distant sounds of AC/DC performing a live rendition of “Thunderstruck” – his theme music to the ring – mixed with brass bands and the sounds of the many gathered people.

Karla couldn’t contain her excitement either by the look of it, a huge grin flashing her teeth toward him as she leant to look out through the tinted windows at the sights that would behold them along the Strip. Eventually, after going from one end of the Strip to the other he felt the limo coming to a halt next to a gathering of people, in the distance he could see a large podium in front of a backdrop, several seats at the back of it while people continued their chanting for him, going wild as the limo door was opened and first Karla and then Dazz emerged from within, paparazzi flashing their cameras as the self-proclaimed hottest couple in wrestling posed for those cameras, enjoying the fact that the media felt they were important enough to ignore his opponent even though he was the reigning champion while the challenger – a legend anyway – had all the attention. Karla also seemed to love that attention, flicking her hair gently and pouting for the cameras in between grabbing her man and posing with him while he just stood there, waving and raising his arms in the air in various poses, looking every bit the Hollywood style star. Professional wrestling had been called a spectacle over the years but Dazz and Karla were most certainly milking that fact and clinging onto the enjoyment they received.

After not too long they left these positions and made their way along the front row of the gathered throng of spectators, signing autographs before walking towards the stage area and the podium, strutting as they made their way towards the steps leading up onto that stage, taking their seats as they waited, a speaker introducing them before Dazz took his turn to speak at the podium, leaning into the many microphones jutting out towards him. Red, white and blue confetti and balloons littered the place and a banner behind him seemed exactly like the banners he’d organised to be on the side of billboards throughout the parade route and driven on their own floats, reminiscent of US Presidential campaigns just over a full year before two candidates would do the same to become President of the United States whereas Dazz did it to campaign that he should be named as new NLCW American champion. Hopefully it would work like he hoped and he’d leave that event as new champion.


******


Laid up in the hospital bed, she was just as beautiful as ever even with stitches in her chin. She smiled at him, allowing him the pleasure of seeing her light up even if it was for mere moments before the pain hit her and she flinched, raising her hand to the injury and gently patting the stitching to ensure it hadn’t become loose or started bleeding again, Dazz watching and taking a seat next to her, gripping her right hand in both of his clasped palms.

Dazz: It’s ok baby, the stitches are still intact.

She again began to attempt a smile but suddenly realised at the last minute that she shouldn’t just in case and settled instead for just gently squeezing his hand. A slight look of concern washed over her as she eyed up the stitching in his own face, seriously and dangerously close to his left eye, removing her right hand from within his and gently using the tip of a finger to caress the soft muscle tissue underneath the stitches in her boyfriend’s face. He grimaced just a little, the soreness and pain still fresh and she quickly backed off a little, seeming apologetic.

Karla: I’m sorry, did I hurt you?

Dazz: No, I’m fine, just a little tender that’s all.

He grinned at her to ease her worries and though it wasn’t exactly a full-blown lie, he wasn’t exactly truthful in the extent of the pain he was suffering either. If he could be honest, it hurt like hell. He didn’t wish to upset or worry her though, instead thinking of her own agony. They seemed right for each other in much the same way Faith was also right for him only with Karla, he didn’t have to worry about a child and yet that weight of reality being missing from his life right now also enabled his ego to rise above higher than it had ever gone before. Karla being a bit of an egomaniac and obsessive when it came to shopping for expensive clothes, accessories and even accommodation didn’t help him much, further feeding his arrogance with her own. He enjoyed the parties though, he hadn’t been a member of the major party scene or visited VIP Only sections of clubs since mid 2004 when he’d lost his first NLCW World championship, that time being the last he’d occupy such places while he concentrated on being a musician, a businessman, a pro wrestler and a good fiancé to Faith and father figure to her son.

He enjoyed the lifestyle, to say he didn’t would be an outright lie and Karla seemed to love spending every waking and sleeping moment with him, the two never apart whether they were training in the gym with a quick workout, giving their credit cards exercise or even if he was performing an abdominal workout while making love to her, the two seemed joined at the hip. She frowned slightly as she continued to stare at the stitching and the wound on his upper left cheek.

Karla: So what the fuck happened?

Dazz: Honestly? I don’t know.

Of course he didn’t know, that was the honest truth of the matter. He remembered feeling the oxygen and perhaps even his soul being forced out of his body through his mouth as Isaac charged and hit a devastating spear that sent both men through a table propped up in a corner of the ring before they crashed out of the ring to the floor in a broken mess. To say that was painful would be difficult though as everything after that seemed to be blurry, unsure as to what went on next. All he remembered was lying back with a neck brace on a stretcher while traveling in the back of an ambulance, his left hand hanging over the side of it and momentarily brushing against Karla’s hand, knowing the soft and dainty hand well considering they were holding hands a lot away from prying eyes for fear of being called lame, her hand also becoming a familiar feeling on his……well, he knew it was her anyway.

That was before an EMT quickly separated their gentle touch, what seemed an eternity lasting possibly a second before being broken apart and held still in the strapping that was to prevent them from moving around much for fear of their spines being damaged. That journey was a scary one for both, Karla groaning as the EMT told her to stay calm, to not worry because they’ll soon be at the hospital and she’ll be fine. He though, on his own hardboard and strapped to ensure he wouldn’t move, began to panic over not only his own safety but also more so for Karla’s. He’d gone through Hell and back in this hardcore match and somehow managed to walk alongside her as she was wheeled out from ringside and through the back to the parking lot until reaching the ambulance, Dazz collapsing upon reaching the doors and being given his own emergency treatment and helped in case he started to go into shock. Karla meanwhile was just innocently supporting him from ringside, seated at the announce table the majority of the match until that devastating spear that sent both men crashing through the upright table set up in a corner of the ring down to the floor through the ropes.

That was when she rushed to ringside to be with her man while Dominic Pericolo and other officials and the medical team also arrived with haste to ensure that both men weren’t too badly hurt, looking on in shock as they seemingly refused the help to continue fighting. Karla though got herself almost totally annihilated by an unknown assailant wearing all black and a mask that covered that person’s head, the only thing that could be figured out about this person was the fact that it was a female thanks mainly to the body shape and figure. Whoever she was didn’t concern him though at this moment in time, instead the fact that whoever she was, she perpetrated a heinous act by hurting his girlfriend. She’d attacked Karla, setting up a table in the ring then lifted the Latina, taking her to the top turnbuckle before driving her head first through that same table with a vicious brainbuster that could have broken her neck or killed her. Luckily Karla managed to regain consciousness and end any fears that she had been murdered inside that ring but the thought that somebody could do such a thing for no reason whatsoever after such a brutal match contested between Dazz and Isaac….

That would have to be solved later though, for the moment he and his girlfriend were on stretchers in an ambulance and seemingly had arrived at the hospital at last by the movement he felt and the fact that he heard a handbrake and the sirens stopping. The back doors sounded like they were being flung open in a hurry, many voices pouring inside the back of the vehicle as the sounds of their stretchers being moved became dominant, first Karla’s due to her injury being of more importance and concern followed by Dazz as he saw the ceiling move until it became the dark of the night sky. The sight of medics and EMTs became apparent standing over him as they wheeled him through the doors of the hospital, nothing but white in his vision along with the bright lights enabling people to see where they’re going.

The view of the bright white ceiling began to slowly fade to black, appearing and disappearing constantly as he felt his eyelids become heavy, his head pounding with a force that hurt like hell, wanting to end the pain by perhaps putting a bullet through his skull, such was the agony he felt at this moment in time. He could hear voices but they were muffled, like he was hearing them from underwater, knowing that people were speaking nearby but his pain and continuously rising and falling state of consciousness ensuring that anything said by doctors would go misunderstood, they could be speaking Greek for all he cared.

Eventually though he was able to get away from his bed, noticing the huge stitches across half of his left cheek dangerously close to his eye. By the look of things, though his vision was still slightly blurry in that eye and no wonder, he was lucky not to have had that ripped out of the socket. He’d even been told by a doctor that was given footage to ensure that his surgery would go smoothly that he was tremendously lucky not to have been blinded or had that piece of broken table tear out his eye and leave it at ringside, such was the horror of that dangerous move that managed to sear through his flesh and cause the huge gaping wound that took effort to close up. He’d bled heavily from his cheek and forehead plus little cuts here and there on the rest of him, most of which would heal other than this which could possibly leave a lasting mark on his visage. At least the wooziness had gone and they’d given him painkillers to push the pangs of agony away although it still felt a little flinch worthy if his facial muscles moved his cheek a little too much so smiling and laughing were definitely off the agenda until this was healed a little more.

He’d found out that Karla was safe and well, relief washing over him as he asked what had happened to her and where she was, almost horrified when told that a piece of table from the brainbuster she’d received had cut her chin badly and that they had to remove a larger piece of that splintered wood than the smaller fragments that were embedded in his own face. Her neck would also be vulnerable but nothing that a week of bed rest could help resolve as long as she remained still and didn’t exert too much effort. If it wasn’t for the sudden pain he felt as he smiled at that statement he would have laughed like he’d wanted to. Karla couldn’t lie still in bed even if a gun were pointed at her head, he knew that all too well, even when sleeping she had a tendency to toss and turn. He knew that when he told her this piece of news, if she were awake when he went to see her that is, she’d be disappointed, especially at being banned from anything that could damage her spine and cause something more serious and permanent, including their favourite joint past time.

He walked along the corridors of the hospital, trying to track down the room she was laid up in and then eventually finding her, opening the door to find her awake and resting in her bed with a neck brace around her, chin rested on it with stitches of her own under her bottom lip and moving down towards the very point of her jaw. She looked a little groggy, either from the anesthesia used during surgery, just waking up or even just fatigue from the exhaustive injuries she’d received, knowing too well that sometimes the act of becoming hurt in the ring could really take it out of a person. He would have been asleep himself thanks to his own pain and only managed to make it here for his feelings about Karla, wanting to make sure that she was alright, be her rock supporting her as she supported him since they’d first met.

Karla: I’ll be ok, right?

He looked deep into her eyes, knowing that she needed the reassurance right now and thanking whatever powers were out there in the universe that she hadn’t been too damaged from that attack suffered at the end of his match, finding it lucky he also found out first before coming to see her. He reached his right hand to gently comb it through her luscious locks as she watched him.

Dazz: Yeah, you’ll be fine, just gotta try and relax, try not to move much.

Karla: So I have to be like your ex then?

He laughed, finding that even while she was here in pain in a hospital bed with her neck thankfully not broken and encased in a brace she could still find time to be funny. It wasn’t true of course but the bitterness of his break up with her and the fact that here he was with his new girlfriend that he’d been with for a few months already meant that he didn’t get angry with her though deep down he did hope that the two could at least be on speaking terms in future.

Dazz: No I meant because of your neck otherwise it could actually be broken. You got real lucky.

Karla: I’ve been lucky since the day I met you.

He was taken aback by this sudden romantic outburst, not hearing something like this from her before, Karla noticing his reaction and sudden realising what she’d said before grabbing his hand as tightly as she could so that he gave her his full and absolute attention.

Karla: You tell anyone I said that and I swear, I’ll fuck you up.

Just like that she snapped back into bitch mode, not overly aggressive like many thought she was but just not the kind to see her reputation as a party animal, a bitch and a destroyer of females put in the ring against her get tossed aside over sappy moments. She’d told him she loved him a few times but only rarely when they were alone in their suite or mostly during sex, the rest of the time showing him affection by just a look in her eyes or using her body language, especially when the two of them got high or drunk together and words became slurred and unintelligible so needed to find another way to communicate their thoughts and feelings to one another. It seemed weird though, the two of them like this, injured with possible scars on their faces. She looked at his stitches with curiosity.

Karla: So what’s happened to your face, is it gonna be ok?

Dazz: Well I’m lucky I still have my eye apparently, took some effort to close it and it might be a scar that lasts forever.

She looked at it intently, wanting to touch it and gently running her fingers along the rough and bumpy stitching keeping his flesh together. He watched, feeling sore but not stopping her as she continued her curious exploration of this wound.

Karla: When can I move again?

Dazz: Not sure, a week maybe I think why?

Karla: Because for some reason I’m so totally hot for you now you got that scar.

He smiled, kissing her gently to avoid causing both of them any pain but that seemed to be an unavoidable task but fighting their way through anyway to enjoy this tender moment together in the hospital, the two of them lucky they didn’t suffer any worse injuries than they currently did although it meant that he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to compete against Isaac Reynolds again for that American championship depending on when it healed and definitely sure that Karla wouldn’t be able to compete in Californian independent promotions nor be able to challenge for NLCW’s Women’s championship for a long time due to her neck injury.

That was the thing though, after leaving that hospital and recovering, recuperating for that allotted week, Karla did indeed show how hot she really got for that facial blemish he’d picked up, spending a lot of time in bed already but since the scar formed she became a total nymphomaniac, always wanting it and even going so far as to lick it while she was straddled on top of him, going crazy and turning into some kind of animal because of a simple scar. He didn’t complain about it because of course he enjoyed this action and while he wasn’t able to compete in the ring yet he had to exert his energy and get a kind of workout somehow even if he had to do his daily pushups and abdominal crunches during the carnal acts he and Karla were engrossed in once returning home to their suite at The Mirage.

When they finally managed to tear each other apart and make it out of their bed they went out, tossing drinks down their throats at bars and clubs seemed to be the order of the day, back to their usual places on the night time scenes throughout Vegas or LA. He did have an idea though, going to NLCW management with the idea to do some kind of match that could possibly top the one he’d had recently despite the fact it could damage his body even more, still determined to win that American championship and put his body on the line to do so. He felt it remarkable, a sign that he was starting to find his groove as the fighting machine he once was back in 2004 when he’d take on all comers who wanted to set foot in the ring with him, remembering how he upset management by wanting to defend the World title against Josh Blaze when they wanted to save a title match for the Fallout ppv instead, forcing him to make the decision to put his title on the line in the War Games match that Chaos A.D. had against Rebellion instead to prove that he was confident enough in his abilities to do so.

Then came the upset. Management told him that they liked the idea but would have to decline, his hopes for trading that title back and forth in hotly contested matches against Isaac Reynolds until ending it at Slamfest no matter who walked out of that event as the champ being declined. Management themselves didn’t want it, instead stating that they “had other plans” for the title and that Isaac himself also felt the same, finding out that he wanted to move onto another challenger. How dare he? Wanting to move on? They’d only had two matches in as many months; the fans clamoured to see them continue waging war for the belt and now this was happening? What kind of guy was this to suddenly halt all momentum leading towards the biggest event of the year in NLCW and kill any hopes of giving everybody paying to see the shows the greatest feud possible for the first time in months.

Just typical of these newcomers, walking in, expecting to have the world handed to them while being feed ego building bullshit constantly for months and then bailing on something as big as this, possibly due to feeling scared that he’d actually lose the belt. He found himself questioning the staff member he was speaking to about this and upon being told that Isaac felt that 2 months was enough for a feud suddenly heard the echo as his shout bounced off the walls, possibly allowing others outside the room and even down the hall hear his angry cry of “2 months my ass”. He and Alex Taylor had spent 7 months building from Alex first attacking Dazz just after their War Games match to leave Chaos A.D. right up until their final meeting in the ring for the Cruiserweight championship to decide which of them was the best wrestler out of the former team, a question that had been asked many times before over the years. Ethan Andrews and Jason Stylez had spent years embroiled in a bitter feud with slight momentary teaming up before ending it at All Hallow’s Eve 2004 in a Four Pillars match. Rick Majors had spent almost half a year in a bitter rivalry with Derrick Lambert, his former tag team partner, and yet Isaac seemed contented with just 2 months before moving on. Was he like this with relationships? “Sorry but we have to break up, we’ve already spent 8 weeks together and that’s long enough”? He could imagine it.

That was why he decided to go to a specialist and have his own American championship custom made to his own specifications, having a slightly distorted version of NLCW’s belt with the company logo replaced by his name at the very top of the title. The red, white and blue colour scheme was still in place considering the fact that he wanted to make a statement, that statement declaring that he deserved that championship and would show that he’s more of a man than the actual champion was. The bitterness, the anger, it was all boiling up and his only release from it was within his bed with Karla who continued to support him throughout this, being there for him and hoping that perhaps they could somehow put this behind them in future once he’d managed to get another title shot and win that belt. She was just as determined as he was to see him with the American championship around his waist, feeling that it would go well during his entrance while his large fur coat swayed with every footstep he took on the way to the ring. If only others would realise that he deserved it too.

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