Electric Head (Backstage Legendary. Unaired)
Dec 5, 2023 20:27:43 GMT -8
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'The Dragon' Travis Levitt likes this
Post by raze on Dec 5, 2023 20:27:43 GMT -8
Raze walked slowly in the backstage area, fresh bottle of water in hand. His head was throbbing after the blows it took from Samantha Tolson's fists, hard steel, and her finishing move. His ears were filled with the static one heard after a loud event, like a wrestling show, sports game, or heavy metal concert. It was accompanied by a low whistling.
He saw the people pointing him in the direction of Dr Alyssa Knight's office, but he ignored them. He was always one to take care of himself anyway. Past the crew, the agents, security, anyone who had reason to be there. He had no particular destination in mind, no interest in any specific place. He opened any swing door that didn't obviously lead to the usual spots one in his profession might frequent.
Finally, a stack of palettes in a little out of the way part of the building. No one around. It was perfect. Sitting down, he straightened his back, tilted his head to one side, just enough to get those pops and loosen it up. The loss didn't faze him. He'd lost matches before and there would be other battles to come. Each one would mean more rust knocked off. More rust knocked off would mean fighting at his absolute best, more of an opportunity to set the crowd's souls alight. He thought of his opponent and felt something. Excitement, anticipation. If she could fight this well, what would it mean for the rest of them? How far could he push himself with them? That time would come. Right now, it was just a matter of regaining his equilibrium and letting his vision clear.
He took a swig of water, let the throbbing pain in his skull wash over him... and smiled.
He saw the people pointing him in the direction of Dr Alyssa Knight's office, but he ignored them. He was always one to take care of himself anyway. Past the crew, the agents, security, anyone who had reason to be there. He had no particular destination in mind, no interest in any specific place. He opened any swing door that didn't obviously lead to the usual spots one in his profession might frequent.
Finally, a stack of palettes in a little out of the way part of the building. No one around. It was perfect. Sitting down, he straightened his back, tilted his head to one side, just enough to get those pops and loosen it up. The loss didn't faze him. He'd lost matches before and there would be other battles to come. Each one would mean more rust knocked off. More rust knocked off would mean fighting at his absolute best, more of an opportunity to set the crowd's souls alight. He thought of his opponent and felt something. Excitement, anticipation. If she could fight this well, what would it mean for the rest of them? How far could he push himself with them? That time would come. Right now, it was just a matter of regaining his equilibrium and letting his vision clear.
He took a swig of water, let the throbbing pain in his skull wash over him... and smiled.