Post by AlphaBeta on Sept 27, 2011 21:19:50 GMT
For a man with as much pride as RB, it was something new to no-show a challenge set forth by a rival. The Stone came out and challenged Blaze to a street fight with no disqualifications, something Ryan Blaze would normally be up to compete in. However on this night, the night of a pay-pre-view, Ryan doesn't show up. Odd. After time, the match was booked, however Blaze never did give The Stone the time of day.
Flash forward to 20 minutes after The Stone left, Blaze was sitting in his locker room, his locker was pushed from one end of the room to the other, effectively blocking the door. He looked at his hands, the hands he used to take care of. The hands that would receive weekly manicures, keeping the nails trimmed nice and clean. His once soft hands from moisturizing and pampering. Those hands her now dry and cracked.
He looks up to the nearest mirror. His hair. The hair that he once was so proud of. His strong, thick shag of brown hair was greased back like he hadn't showered in ages. His eyes gave him the appearance of a tired and weak old man. The skin under his eyeballs had a drastic droop in it. His facial hair looked like a mess the way it had been growing in randomly, with patches of it everywhere. His once classy looking face now resembled that of a crack head just coming out of a drug related coma.
He arose from his sitting position, now standing straight in the middle of the room. He looks at the mirror that he was just looking at seconds before, and this time the face that stood back resembled his, however this face wore black and purple face paint. Face paint that looked like a knock off of Chris Lionheart's old face paint.
Ryan cringes, and turns from the mirror. As he does so, he quietly murmurs to himself..
Crimson Cup... Crimson Cup... Crimson Cup...
It was tonight. Tonight Ryan had to fight against five other men, be the only one not to get busted open, and maybe bloody a guy or two here and there... It was tonight he'd see if his demons still taunted at him, poking and prodding to see if he'd snap.
It was tonight he'd fight for blood, and he was thirsty.
Flash forward to 20 minutes after The Stone left, Blaze was sitting in his locker room, his locker was pushed from one end of the room to the other, effectively blocking the door. He looked at his hands, the hands he used to take care of. The hands that would receive weekly manicures, keeping the nails trimmed nice and clean. His once soft hands from moisturizing and pampering. Those hands her now dry and cracked.
He looks up to the nearest mirror. His hair. The hair that he once was so proud of. His strong, thick shag of brown hair was greased back like he hadn't showered in ages. His eyes gave him the appearance of a tired and weak old man. The skin under his eyeballs had a drastic droop in it. His facial hair looked like a mess the way it had been growing in randomly, with patches of it everywhere. His once classy looking face now resembled that of a crack head just coming out of a drug related coma.
He arose from his sitting position, now standing straight in the middle of the room. He looks at the mirror that he was just looking at seconds before, and this time the face that stood back resembled his, however this face wore black and purple face paint. Face paint that looked like a knock off of Chris Lionheart's old face paint.
Ryan cringes, and turns from the mirror. As he does so, he quietly murmurs to himself..
Crimson Cup... Crimson Cup... Crimson Cup...
It was tonight. Tonight Ryan had to fight against five other men, be the only one not to get busted open, and maybe bloody a guy or two here and there... It was tonight he'd see if his demons still taunted at him, poking and prodding to see if he'd snap.
It was tonight he'd fight for blood, and he was thirsty.