Post by Michael Santiago on Sept 11, 2011 21:35:22 GMT -5
* A cool breeze blows through the calm night air, sounds of crickets whisper off in the distant dark. A shadow glides along the shoulder of the dimly lit road. The only hint of location being the “US-92” sign ahead in the distance, the shadow continues on a steady pace, determined to find its way to wherever it’s headed. The road becomes slightly more urbanized, streetlights becoming more abundant the lighting of which floods the silhouette of the man. Flashes of rugged features, long brown hair and dark eyes… The man begins mumbling to himself, slurring slightly. *
Man: Tampa Florida… Fall Brawl… the Promised Land on the horizon… Glory…
* The man stumbles slightly, shaking off his stupor and continuing. *
Man: Soon the UWA will know Michael Santiago, the wrestling world will be reminded of Black Charisma. How could Odin keep this under wraps from me?
* From the bag slung over his shoulder Michael pulls out a letter, in the dim rays of lighting the ink on the paper can be made out. Addressed to Odin Balfore, Michael pulls the letter out of the already torn open envelope, Michael focuses his bloodshot eyes on the writing reading it to himself as the words seem to scold him. “Odin, On behalf of the United Wrestling Alliance family, we would like to welcome you with open arms to our organization. Your experience and expertise will be a welcome addition to the UWA universe and we look forward to what you will bring in the future. Sincerely, Ryan Blake.” Michael’s hand tightens around the letter, his face becoming flush with anger; he thrusts the letter and envelope back into the bag and continues walking along the road. For those who are familiar with Michael and his past an energetic and immature demeanor can be fondly recalled, this Michael, though physically comparative, shares no other traits with his former self, seemingly a shell of what he once was. The lines of his face clearly drawn and defined with not only his progressing age but assumed from the way he is stumbling and slurring maybe an alcohol addiction. As Michael continues along, the road peaks atop a small hill, the hustle and bustle of Tampa Bay can be seen by the bright lights and the sudden distant audible distraction. For the first time a wry smile comes across Michael’s face and he hastens his pace as he continues downhill along the road. *
Michael: I can feel it now, the time is upon us… an open battle royal? UWA gold at stake you say? That’s just the kind of debut onto the scene that Black Charisma has become acclimated to. Maybe, just maybe it will show Odin that his old partner still has enough gas left in the tank for one more joyride on the highway of success. I’ve dragged him out of bars, awoken him from sleeping in a den of prostitutes, even went with him to the oncologist when he thought he found a lump in his breast… and this is how he repays me? No… that’s not the TPA way of things, he’ll remember what TPA means, if he doesn’t then I’ll have to remind him of it another way. But for now… this Battle Royal will do, Santiago is here and bitches… TPA is back…
* Michael ends his rambling by pulling out a bottle of rum and taking a long swig before breaking out into a full jog towards the beautiful city. *
Man: Tampa Florida… Fall Brawl… the Promised Land on the horizon… Glory…
* The man stumbles slightly, shaking off his stupor and continuing. *
Man: Soon the UWA will know Michael Santiago, the wrestling world will be reminded of Black Charisma. How could Odin keep this under wraps from me?
* From the bag slung over his shoulder Michael pulls out a letter, in the dim rays of lighting the ink on the paper can be made out. Addressed to Odin Balfore, Michael pulls the letter out of the already torn open envelope, Michael focuses his bloodshot eyes on the writing reading it to himself as the words seem to scold him. “Odin, On behalf of the United Wrestling Alliance family, we would like to welcome you with open arms to our organization. Your experience and expertise will be a welcome addition to the UWA universe and we look forward to what you will bring in the future. Sincerely, Ryan Blake.” Michael’s hand tightens around the letter, his face becoming flush with anger; he thrusts the letter and envelope back into the bag and continues walking along the road. For those who are familiar with Michael and his past an energetic and immature demeanor can be fondly recalled, this Michael, though physically comparative, shares no other traits with his former self, seemingly a shell of what he once was. The lines of his face clearly drawn and defined with not only his progressing age but assumed from the way he is stumbling and slurring maybe an alcohol addiction. As Michael continues along, the road peaks atop a small hill, the hustle and bustle of Tampa Bay can be seen by the bright lights and the sudden distant audible distraction. For the first time a wry smile comes across Michael’s face and he hastens his pace as he continues downhill along the road. *
Michael: I can feel it now, the time is upon us… an open battle royal? UWA gold at stake you say? That’s just the kind of debut onto the scene that Black Charisma has become acclimated to. Maybe, just maybe it will show Odin that his old partner still has enough gas left in the tank for one more joyride on the highway of success. I’ve dragged him out of bars, awoken him from sleeping in a den of prostitutes, even went with him to the oncologist when he thought he found a lump in his breast… and this is how he repays me? No… that’s not the TPA way of things, he’ll remember what TPA means, if he doesn’t then I’ll have to remind him of it another way. But for now… this Battle Royal will do, Santiago is here and bitches… TPA is back…
* Michael ends his rambling by pulling out a bottle of rum and taking a long swig before breaking out into a full jog towards the beautiful city. *
