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Atomic Welfare vs David Hardy
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"Yes, but don't be too disappointed about last night. It's only a single loss on the path to what is sure to be a great string of victories."

William Shamrock smiles at the Commissioner from across her desk.

"I'm sure you're right, Ms. Stern..."

"Of course I am. After all, you have the eternal gratitude of the boss. I know that even I wouldn't have been able to find a new stadium to house Friction on such short notice. And Venezuela is much prettier than Arizona anyway."

"Anything you need. Now, about this Hardy character... He seems to be giving you a hand as well."

"Yes, he does seem to be. I'm glad he's back from his break, since he is the Aftershoch Champion, but I don't know helpful he'll actually be..."

Shamrock nods towards his boss.

"Don't worry about it. I'll test the waters. Welfare will be a good target should things go well."

The two rise, shaking hands, and Shamrock heads for the door.

HOLLYWOOD


David Hardy stepped out of the recording studio's back door and waved behind himself.

"Yeah, see y'all next time," he said.

The Aftershock champion, well known for his odd exploits inside the squared circle was taking on a different challenge. He had conquered the ring already, but now he had set out to conquer television. Well, at least the 18-35 late night demographic. In a recent marijuana fueled brainstorming session with a few of his new southern Californian "friends" he had come up with the seemingly brilliant idea of creating an animated show. Not just any animated show, but an old fashioned stop motion animated film about a living piece of fruit, known as "Banana Man" and his Celery friend. Don't ask, not even Hardy can remember where this stuff came from.

The next thing he knew, he was on a short hiatus from TCW setting up this show, writing it, and ultimately doing voiceovers for it. Normally, a wrestler wouldn't be able to take such a break, especially a champion, and double especially for such a silly reason, but Hardy's high merchandise sales and friends in high places earned him the time for this little endeavor.

Though last week he had finally cleared up some free time to make his much anticipated return to the fed after several shows absence. As usual, Hardy made sure to return with a bang, at Drako's expense. Though the extent of their relationship has never been revealed, Hardy and Valerie Stern had always seemed to have some sort of allegiance or partnership, and Hardy's method of return seemed to prove that they had at least something in cahoots. Either that or Hardy felt like he had to make a good impression on the boss after the newcomer attacked her and her crew. Hardy, ever the opportunist, certainly always knows how to get attention.

Now he was going to be back in the fed on a full-time basis, which meant he needed to get back into ring shape. Over the past few months, Hardy had been too tied up in his new project that he hadn't been able to work out other than late at night with a female companion. It didn't seem to worry Hardy, though, as his inflated ego was telling him that he didn't even need to work off the ring rust. After all, he was the Aftershock champion and had defeated anyone who tried to change that. He was a man who had held several belts, broke records, and sold millions of dollars worth of tickets and merchandise. To him, it didn't matter who the bookers threw at him, the result would always be the same with Hardy walking out on top.

He walked down the alleyway until he reached the parking lot. His car, a brand new Shelby Cobra waited there for him. He lived like he fought, fast and hard. With a simple click, the doors unlocked and Hardy climbed inside, shutting the door beside him. After a few moments of self admiration, he looked to the passenger seat to see a cell phone lying dormant. He took a deep breath and picked it up, flicking it open. He monitored the screen for a few moments before a frown crossed his face.

Zero missed calls.

Hardy never really expected a call, though he had honestly hoped that someone would have returned his call. A hope he'd been holding out for, for several years now. With a sigh of frustration, he slammed the phone shut and threw it back on the seat. He wasn't even sure why he even still bothered, but it was something he couldn't let go, no matter how hard he tried. The young superstar crossed his arms and shook his head, frustrated with his own foolishness. He blankly stared down at the photograph hanging off the car's CD player, mixed emotions running through his head. The woman he hadn't seen for well over a year had now been suddenly slammed back into his head thanks to a ridiculous dream several weeks ago. It turned him into an emotional mess, a side very few had ever seen behind his smug trademark smirk. There were very few things he'd do anything for. She was one of them. And it killed him inside.

Suddenly, the phone rang, making Hardy's heart jump. He scrambled to pick it up, fumbling a few times and dropping it on the floor. He cursed to himself until he finally got a grip on it. He slammed it to his ear without a second thought.

"Hello!?" he pretty much yelled into the phone.

"Whoa," said the voice on the other end, "You alright, Dave?"

Hardy let out a disappointing moan, "Hey, Dean, I'm fine... what's up?"

Dean was a road agent for 411Fed before it was merged into TCW, where he stayed on in a slightly less stressful job. Since day one, he and Hardy were close friends, with Dean often giving the young wrestler advice about his opponents. Being a former wrestler himself, Dean taught Hardy most of his current submission moveset.

Dean replied, "I just wanted to let you know that the next show has been rescheduled and is now going to be in Venezuela, I'm emailing you the info as we speak."

Hardy raised an eyebrow, "Venezuela? Where the hell is that? Actually, nevermind, I really don't care where it is... I'll be there."

"Good to have you back, kid," Dean said, "They got you lined up for an interesting match for the show, you'll be facing-"

"It doesn't matter," Hardy said, cutting him off, "In fact, I want it to be a surprise."

Dean was surprised, "You sure about that? Don't you wanna prepare properly, I mean it is your first match back in a couple months."

"Nah, man," Hardy responded, "Usually when I know who my opponent is, there tends to be alot of bullshit before the match. Y'know, sneak attacks and the like, and quite frankly, I don't want anything to do with that."

Dean laughed, "Fair enough, you make sure you make it here in enough time."

"You know I'd never let you down," Hardy said smugly.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, "see you later,"

"Seeya," Hardy said as he closed the phone.

Venuzuela? He thought to himself, why the hell would we go there? He obviously had no interest in getting onto a plane until he absolutely has to. That and he wanted nothing to do with the usual hotheaded bullshit that happens before matches. So what was he going to do?

He was going to stay in Los Angeles.

Where he was safe. Where he was as happy as he could be. Where he was the king of his world... at least for now.

He shook his head and put the key in the ignition. The car roared to life as Hardy glanced down at the picture one last time before pulling out of the parking stall. He didn't know what laid ahead of him in the coming days, but hopefully a drink and a lady would get him off to a good start. The car screeched out of the parking lot, heading for downtown. This week was going to be fun... or was it?