It wasn't exactly as he had been picturing it when he wrote about it on the computer.

A spiral of smoke drifts upwards from a solitary ash tray, lying dormat on a oval-shaped coffee table. The smoke swirls with the blades of the ceiling fan, spanning out across the room and hovering like a cloud, tainting the oxygen in the air and bringing with it the smell of tobacco. A single hand swings downward, fingers working quickly to lift the cigarette from it's bed of ashes and glass, and bring it to a waiting mouth above. Lips clamp down on the filter of the cigarette and lungs inhale deeply, a red glow casting at the tip as a set of eyes stare dully ahead at a figure in front of them.

"That's gonna kill you one day, you know..."

"So will life."

Silence filled the room quickly after the sudden intrusion of voices, as the two men sitting at the coffee table stare at one another with equally intense looks in their eyes. The man with the cigarette drops it to the ashtray, flicking the ash off the tip of the cancerous stick and lifting it once more to his mouth.

"Fact of the matter is, kid, anything can kill ya'. From that wrestling shit ya' do ta' this cig in my hand. Hell, nowadays just taking a breath of air might cost ya' life in the wrong place. Ya' can even look at someone the wrong way and they'll whip a .45 out on ya'."

The man takes a drag of his cigarette, inhaling deeply once again with a bemused look on his face. Once finished, he exhaled the smoke and pointed the cigarette at the figure before him.

"Now ain't that some shit, kid? I sit here smokin' my life away...but I ain't even sure the cancer'll get ta' me in time. Maybe some little punk 'round the street corner'll come lookin' for my wallet, an' kill me just ta' get ta' it."

"Whatever happened to you, coach? You've let yourself go after all these years..."

"Time changes people, Dominic...there wasn't much I could do ta' stop it."

The smoke filters through the room, as the dimmed lighting and sad atmosphere made the whole room appear rather melancholy in and of itself. Dominic Pericolo, NLCW's newest battle-ready warrior, lowers his head and sighs as he stares down at the stained carpet rug his feet are firmly planted on. Coffee stains, tears from one of the man's many cats...the rug was as tattered as the man's appearance was.

Who would have ever guessed that this overweight and elderly man was, during Dominic's teenaged years, the head trainer at the wrestling school Dominic had attended.

"'least I ain't as bad as I used ta' be...after my wife left me with th'kids I became an alcoholic to chase away the pain. Worked well for awhile, 'till I nearly killed some kid ridin' his bike on the side of the road. Spent a few years in prison for the DUI, then came out and decided ta' take up smoking as a stress relief instead. Been hooked on them since...but on the bright side, I ain't touched a beer bottle in over 4 years now."

Dominic lifted his head, his eyes softening as he looked on at the man who once taught him how to make it in the same game he was playing today. The man, however, caught this look and waved his hand at Dominic, coughing a little as he raised his voice.

"Oh damn it, Dom...don't give me that look ya' little sentimental bastard. I could care less about Mary now, I jus' hope my kids are still doin' fine."

He paused, his own gaze now lowering ever so slightly, before he'd caught himself and looked up to make eye contact once again. His lips, once formed to a deadpan expression, now curled slightly as he smiled the slightist smile he could, forcing a chuckle.

"After all...it's hard not ta' care about them, y'know? I did alot of thinkin' when I did my time...thought about a lotta things, from family ta' old friends. I'd actually watched ya' career in the HWF, kid...you were makin' me proud. Went a bit outta yer' mind towards the end there, but nevertheless ya' made me proud."

Dominic offered the man a kind smile, leaning back in the couch he was seated in as he looked on at the once familiar face taking up the recliner across the coffee table from him.

"I'm glad to hear that, I really did give it my all there...and this new place I've joined isn't any different. I've already beaten their world champion in a non-title match, and it was my very first match too. Just...hard to believe how far I've came ever since you started training me, Jake."

Jake smiled and laughed a genuine laugh, placing his cigarette down onto the ashtray and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, his recliner leaning backwards with him.

"So what exactly is it, kid, that ya' came here for anyway? I know ya' didn't just come ta' shoot the shit, ya' gotta have a reason for gettin' ta' me after, what, nearly 15 years now?"

Dominic laughs to himself, looking down at the coffee table as he hunches forward, hands lying limply in his lap.

"I'm facing a lunatic and a self-proclaimed champion in the same week, just so I can prove to the NLCW champ that I'm not some flash-in-the-pan wrestler. I thought I could use a bit of training, and rather then go to the usual spots...I was wondering if you'd let me use the old gym one more time."

The ever-so-slightly wrinkled face of Jake Menusa lit up like a 60 watt lightbulb, dimples forming from the large smile that quickly grew upon his weathered face. Bringing his feet down off the coffee table and then leaning forward, Jake stretched out his arm to pat Dominic on the shoulder with a small laugh. A small line of smoke drifted upwards towards the ceiling fan from the discarded cigarette as he then stood very slowly, so as to not hurt himself in the process, and looked down at his former student from across the coffee table.

"Ya' were my top student, kid...th'best of th'best. Ya' come here ta' Cali when yer' matches are in God-damn Quebec or some shit...an' ya' actually think ya' have to ASK me ta' use the gym? Shit, kid...by all means, it's yours--beat the shit out of it."

Dominic stood with a smile, taking Menusa's hand in his own to shake it firmly as he looked down at him, ready to express his gratitude when suddenly Jake brought his free hand up to smack him upside the head.

"But stop bein' so damn tall! God-damn, ya' were just a fuckin' five-foot-fiver first time I saw ya' and now yer' breakin' 6 feet n'up. It's fuckin' crazy."

Both shared a brief laugh, as Jake reached out for his cane for support as he then led his once prized student onward to a place of their past. In Dominic's mind, him coming here was the best move he could make...for the NLCW was a new beginning for him. Therefore, he felt it was fitting to train at the very place he'd began his dream in.

For Dominic Pericolo...the NLCW had just become his chance of a lifetime.