New school vs Oldschool with a titanic enforcer.

So, what's my match?

Titan was on the phone again. Listening. His face slowly dropped down. Drooping into a large frown.

Fine.

Titan used all his strength. To slowly, calmly, hang up the phone. And then proceeded to smash it to pieces with his bare hands.

Fuckin A.

It's all he could say. The fed had seemingly given up all hope for him. 3 matches....3 losses. It wasn't like he had proven anything to them in the first place. He went up to the roof. And looked out over the city. All was quiet, except for the sound of a loud scream. He immediatley ran into action. Down to the street. Where the screams were coming from.

Ever since the woman from a few days before Friction, he had become an Enforcer of a sorts. Out on the streets, and wherever he was needed. And now, he was needed.

"AHHHHH!"

It was another woman, this time from inside the bank across the street. The bank teller inside. There was a man with a mask on. Holding a guy to her face. There wasn't any bulletproof glass here. Suddenly...

*tap tap tap*

He quickly turned around, but Titan grabbed hold of the man's wrist, and wrenched the masked man's arm behind his back, bending his wrist just enough to get him to drop the weapon on the floor. He used his other hand to grab onto the back of the man's head and smashed it onto the desk in front of him.

The man slumped to the floor, losing consiousness quickly.

Didn't mommy tell you it wasn't nice to steal?

The man wasn't going to answer anytime soon.

"What...what's your name?"

Before the teller could get the question out, Titan ran out of the building, hearing the sirens. He didn't want to bring too much attention to his night life. He quickly ran to the sidewalk. But he heard a voice behind him.

"So...this is what you do at nights now? You can't win any matches...so you have to get your thrills some other way."

Because he recognized the voice, he didn't thrash out on him yet.

JE7

"Wow, so you DO remember me. That's good. Look, I won't tell anyone about your little...crusade, or whatever you're doing. But I just wanted to tell you..."

JE7 grabbed Titan's arm and tugged on it, just enough to get the larger man to look at him.

"you better not interfere in anything you don't have any business in. Or else, I'll beat the shit out of you...again."

You just worry about winning your match little man.

Titan easily pulled his arm out of the other man's grasp. He started walking away.

Oh, and JE7?

JE7 had also been walking away, but he turned around again.

"What?"

Don't touch me again. And don't talk to me again. You might not touch anything after that. Just wanted to let you know.

A coy little smile crossed his face.

"Whatever. You just worry about calling the match right down the middle, and we won't have any problems."

JE7 turned around, and didn't turn back this time. And neither did Titan.
(F/T/B)

Voices. He could only hear voices. Nothingness surrounded him. He couldn't even find his spirit. The tense air he could sense around him told him that something was very wrong.

His physical inability to ask what was wrong didn't give him any answers.

Rob didn't know that he was surrounded by EMT's. They were rushing him out of the American Airlines Arena and towards Miami-Dade Hospital. The backstage area, where the wrestlers seek solitude, total focus before their matches, was suddenly human. The men would pause, watch the gurney pass by, rubbernecking the injury. And when they saw it was Rob, they all looked inside their own soul for a moment. That they could end like that. That the final matter may be out of their hands.

EMT 1: His vitals are fading, I can barely feel his pulse.

They didn't know Rob could hear them. They never could. RDV finally had confirmation of that old urban legend his friends used to mention around the campfires back in high school, to scare the girls with them. That when you die, you can hear everything in the first 10 minutes after you die. It was a shame, he thought, that he might never get to tell anybody that.

EMT 2: Shattered vertabrae may be the least of our problems. Now we have to worry if the fragments hit his spinal cord.

EMT 1: We're going to need 200 CC of Ephanedrin when we get to the ambulance-

EMT 2: You'll kill him with that dose!

EMT 1: AND IF WE DON'T DO IT, HE MIGHT DIE ANYWAY!!!!

Those words sent a chill through the young wrestlers who happened to be closest as the gurney made it's way down the hall. Poor bastards, Rob thought. Those kids have enough problems without this crap getting into their heads. Rob had always felt that they'd need to carry him out of the ring before he would quit. Others joked about it, and Rob laughed along, but they didn't know that deep down, Rob actually saw a shred of truth to it.

Rob had accepted the fact. Until he remembered what got him here. He was up high, taking air, something that he had always felt confortable doing. And then, somehow, things changed. He was upside down, getting his head stuck between the legs of Drackus.

As he put him there, Rob could see the gallows. Then darkness. And then the sound. But the darkness remained. It wasn't his body that was hurting him now- it was just his mind.

He could feel the needle going into his chest. His arms started to tingle. He still couldn't move them, but it made his day knowing they were there.

EMT 1: His pulse is getting stronger. Tell trauma to get MRI-2 ready for when we arrive.

EMT 2: Will he be stable enough by then?

EMT 1: He should be. If that shot didn't kill him, it'll just piss him off. His heart's gonna pound so fast that he'll think he's stuck in a metal rock band's drum set.

The ambulance's lights turned on, and it began to pull away from the loading dock. Away from Rob's demons. A caravan to survival. Escape. A way out.


Camera fades

RDV slowly opened his eyes. A ceiling. A drab, boring, halogen-white ceiling, like a million other drab, boring, white ceilings in Miami-Dade Hospital.

And he was thrilled to see it, it was the most exciting thing he'd ever seen. Because it wasn't a cloud. It was a material thing. He was still here.

And he felt like crap. Suddenly, a foriegn sensation ran down his body, encasing his limbs. Terror gripped him simply because he didn't know what the feeling was. And then he recognized it. Fire. He felt like he was trapped in a burning house, and began to sweat profusely. He started slapping his arms and legs against the mattress to put out flames that were only there in his mind.

At this point, 2 nurses stormed into the room, through the curtains.

RDV: AAAAAAAAH!!!!!!

Nurse 1: What is it, sir?

RDV: Fire! It feels like I'm on fire! Get some water, dammit!!!!! (Maybe he'd be better off with clouds, he thought to himself)

Nurse 2: Mr. Van, you need to relax, we can't have you squirming around, the burning sensation is normal. It's something we put in your sedative to try and awaken you to see what kind of movement you had in your limbs.

RDV: If you don't cut this crap down, you'll find out just how mobile I am!!!

The nurses held Rob down enough to get a shot of morphine into his right arm. Slowly, Rob began to relax. A stupid smile stretched across his face. The nurses sighed while looking at each other. Rob didn't know, but it was a good sign. Anyone who freaks out like that usually has a bright future ahead of them. His spinal activity was good.

It's the people who don't respond to it. The people who don't get up. Those are the people they fear for. Rob, apparently, wasn't one of those people.

The curtain parted again, and Dr. Matheson made his way into the room. He listened to the nurses quietly describe what had happened. Dr. Matheson chuckled, and asked the nurses to let Rob rest for a few hours more. At that point they would try and mildly wake Rob up. With something that had a little less kick.


Camera fades.