A Shadowy Ambush

It was 2 PM on a shitty Friday afternoon in St. Louis. I had been here for about two days, getting some training in and what not. I also had begun preparing myself for the onslaught of inevitable challengers for my ACTUAL World Title. I was so damn lucky I left that belt at home this past Overload, but I knew I wouldn't always get that kind of lucky break. Just the thought of that...that fucking OAF Alex Richards with MY title! My WORLD TITLE! Ugh. It's not even worth the thought. So yeah...challengers to the ACTUAL World title. They could pop literally anywhere, at any time. "I must stay vigilant", I told myself. "I must always be aware of my surroundings." And lemme tell ya, if being stuck on that fucking Pokemon GO loading screen had taught me anything, it was to be aware of my damn surroundings.

I had felt it was time I began carrying myself as a champion should when in public, especially for an address to the UCI Galaxy to be shown live on UCI.com. To that end, I had gotten myself a decent little get up. Nothin' fancy, just a simple colored shirt and dress pants, but a definite step up from the usual t shirts and jeans I had worn in the past. Of course, drapped proudly over my shoulder was the top prize in the entirety of the UCI, the ACTUAL World Title. I was lookin' well and truly PROPER, as a champ of my caliber should. The same could not be said for the degenerates around me, though. These so called "journalists" (really just a bunch of wannabe Meltzers if you asked me) had come to the press conference here at the Scottrade Center to hype up the final Overload before Beachmania. Already the stench filled the room and made me want to gag. Do these people know nothing of showers? Good god almighty I thought I was about to throw up before I even got to the podium. Nevertheless, as I was announced my Jimmy Garcia and made my way to the podium, I did all I could to not let things get to me.

Instead of giving me some type of affirmation that they did indeed understand what I was saying, they all just started yelling questions at me. Typical.

Everyone shut up for a moment, and said fedora wearing jackass stood up.

Fedora-man sat down (hopefully put down as he needed to be) and in his place, a short and stout man stands up.

At that moment, some rando in the crowd shouted out to me.

A loud "ooooooooooo" erupted from the crowd. Despite this BLATANT character assassination, I tried my hardest to ignore it. But as the noise from the reporters built to a small roar, it just GOT to me. Like, WHO DOES THIS GLORY HOGGING ASSHOLE THINK HE IS? He wasn't even press! He was just SOME DUDE.

Right on cue, the two rent-a-cops emerged from their positions at the door and made their way to the offender. He put up a bit of a fight, but was not much trouble for the boys in blue, who took him by both arms and dragged him out the door.

Not a peep out of the journalists. Perfect.

Just then, from nowhere, another rando makes his presence felt.

I wasted no time. Another motherfucker was being belligerent, I needed to smite him for his insolence.

Once again, the rent-a-cops sprung onto the scene and apprehended the man who had yelled. I was not in a mood to be fucked with that day, in case me throwing these people out was any indication. I attempted to regain my composure and finish the question.

My thought was cut off when something hard as SHIT hit me from behind. I couldn't get a good look at what it was in the moment, and to be honest, I don't remember much from after that initial punch. I felt my face getting driven into something, and after that I was out like a light.

It was probably about two hours after the attack when I woke up in the locker room, laying on a bench. Things still felt woozy, and I only vaguely remembered what went down. After getting my bearings for a bit, I reached around looking for my ACTUAL belt, but couldn't find it on me. I got up off the bench and checked the immediate area. No belt, still. I checked the lockers. Nada. Now panic was beginning to set in. What the fuck happened to my title?

Leaving the locker room behind, I wandered the Scottrade Center looking for anyone to explain to me what happened. Finally, I stumbled upon Jimmy Garcia, who seemed kinda surprised to see me.

I shoved my hand into my pocket and took out my phone, panicked. This fuckboi commentator better not mean what I think he means. After a lot of buffering (stupid arena Wi Fi) the video loaded, and my fears were confirmed.

During the press conference, a figure got behind me while I was talking, and bashed me over the back of the head with his fists. The camera moves in to get a better look. Low and behold, it's none other then fucking SHADOWLOVE HIMSELF. He grabs the title off my shoulder, smiles at it a bit, before laying it down on the ground. No...no, he can't be thinking what I think he's thinking. He tucks my head under his arm...THAT FUCK DARK GIFTS ME ONTO MY OWN TITLE. WHAT THE FUCK. That explains why my face still hurts. Not only that, but the impact from my face to the center plate fucking cracked in half! THAT SON OF A BITCH. Shadowlove then smiles and calls out to the crowd.

He then falls to the ground a covers me, and the whole crowd of neckbeard bloggers counts the pin for him.

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

And not two seconds later, Shadowlove is holding the ACTUAL belt. MY belt. He holds it above his head proudly before ditching the place, leaving the crowd buzzing to themselves as the video ends.

I let out a heavy sigh, a sad sigh, while Garcia stood there nonchalantly. Hopefully he would have info as to where Shadowlove is. I needed this belt back, and in a bad way.

With that, I made my exit, and started heading to the hotel.

Not too long after I left, I arrived at the lobby of the Hyatt Regency hotel, where the UCI guys were staying at for Overload. I made my way quickly to the receptionist, working at her computer and whatnot.

Fuck. The fact that Shadowlove having no real name known to the public would probably bee an issue when looking for him. Shit, what am I gonna do now? Think Think Think, man.

With a name with a bit more substance now, the receptionist typed away into her computer, and a few seconds later...

There I stood, outside the door to Shadowlove's room. My fists were clenched so hard I felt like they could start bleeding at any moment. When he answers the door, I'm gonna knock him square in the jaw, pin him to the floor and take my title back. This fool thought he'd get a quick one on me, well GUESS WHAT MOTHERFUCKER, TIME FOR MY REVENGE.

I knocked on the door, softly. The thought crossed my mind to say "Housekeeping" in my best latino accent, but that seemed a bit too much, so I didn't do it. A few, tense seconds passed. Was he going to actually answer? What if I got the wrong room? The doorknob turned, slowly. Oh shit man, this is real. LEt's go. LET'S DO IT.

The door opened, and without looking at who was in front of me, I just went for it.

My right fist connected hard, it was probably the hardest punch I'd ever thrown in my life. It was only after I made the hit that I realized it wasn't Shadowlove I was punching, but Miyamoto. I had knocked her completely out, and she fell to the floor, her head making a nasty "THUMP" sound as it hit the ground. The sounds of a running shower could be heard in the bathroom, until it suddenly stopped.

OH. FUCK. OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. WHAT HAVE I DONE? I REALLY FUCKED UP NOW. I JUST PUNCHED A DEFENSELESS WOMAN IN COLD BLOOD AND HER BOYFRIEND IS ABOUT TO MURDER ME SHITSHITSHIT WHAT AM I GONNA DO. IT WAS ALL A MISTAKE, I WOULD NEVER HIT A WOMAN LIKE THIS, FUCK MAN WHAT AM I GONNA DO WHAT AM I GONNA DO?

I JUST WANT MY FUCKING BELT BACK.

Shadowlove emerged from the steamy bathroom, having quickly thrown on a pair of underwear with a towel over his shoulder. He dripped water onto the floor as he rushed to his manager's aid.

No response came from her. That's when he noticed me standing over her for the first time, and his eyes filled with rage.

SHIT. Guess the only choice here is to own it and run with it.

Shadowlove knocked me right on my ass with a STIFF punch to the gut. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, it felt like my insides were collapsing in on themselves as I fell down. Shadowlove looked down on me, not satisfied enough with giving me that hard hit, yet walked away from me for a moment, fished the ACTUAL World Title (giant crack and all) from his gym bag nearby, and threw it down to me.

Shadowlove went back into the bathroom, threw on some more clothes, then picked up Miyamoto and made his way out of the room. I sincerely hoped I didn't knock her out too bad.

So there I was, alone with my ACTUAL Title once again in my possession. I'd have to make sure to say Shadowlove lost the belt via submission, otherwise the title history would be wonky. Shadowlove's questions were still on my mind. Was it worth it? I thought about this for a moment, before deciding that yes, it was. I know what I want in this business, I want belts, I want titles, I want those big wins, because I want to prove to myself that no matter what any jealous hater says, I am the best at what I do. I have goals, real obtainable goals, and whether it takes me five months or five years to achieve, I'm gonna do it. This ACTUAL Title? It's only the beginning. I see Shadowlove, and I see a man with no goals. He's a drifter, a man who wanders from one low card match to the next with no rhyme or reason, no end goal. I may not have been in this business for long, but I know that people like that never make it far. I'll be slowly rising to the top, winning title after title, match after match, and what will Shadowlove be doing? Wallowing at the bottom like he is now. He may have gotten the upper hand today, but I'd be damned if this turned out to be his only good day against me. This Sunday we'll both be on an even field, but afterwards? It'll all be me, bay bay.

I did feel bad about what I did to Miyamoto, I really did. Hopefully she shows up to Overload not too much worse for wear. I made sure to keep her in my thoughts that night (ESPECIALLY before I went to bed during my end of the day JO sesh.) The pain from Shadowlove's gut check subsiding, I slowly got up off the ground, grabbed the ACTUAL World Title, and left the hotel room.