Title: ....cold embers...
Featuring: Freddie Styles
Date: 8/20
Location: East Point
Show: Evolution 28

Bullets buried in to the wooden table he hid behind. Shots flying by his head as he barely remained out of the way. It wasn't supposed to go this way. The plans had seemed so much different on paper. Life always had some sort of hurdle to throw in my way. God's way of getting a good laugh from above. Fuck god, I believed in no such thing.

"Put down the weapon!! This is your last chance. You're cornered, no where to go! Come out with your hands up, and you might make it out of this alive." the detective screamed at me.

Good idea. Come out with my hands up? So I could watch myself take a couple rounds to the chest? Nah, I wouldn't be leaving this without a fight.

"Sure thing." I screamed back as I unloaded half a clip on him. Bullets sprayed in to his general direction. I could hear glass shattering, and the impact of the bullets hitting the wooden walls.

I leaned my back against the table, and looked to the ceiling. So much for God I thought. If I was religious I probably would have been praying at this point. But I knew there wasn't a point. I had made a bargain with the devil himself. Power, wealth, and prestige. The three things that could drive any man over the edge.

The detective fired off three more rounds as I prepared to shoot. I could hear him reloading his gun as I knelt up, peeking over the table. One good shot was all I needed. Right between the eyes. I was a hell of a shot. But guns were meaningless to me; I got enjoyment out of using my bare hands. The feeling of choking the life out of someone was very rewarding. I hoped that I could wound him, then watch him die by my hands.

I saw the detective shuffle around as I aimed. Then there was a loud bang. Pain exploded in my chest as I whirled around to lean my back against the table. I looked to see a second detective holding a gun. Damnit, I should have been smarter. The fucking back door. I forgot about that. Figures shit would turn out like this. Stabbed in my back, again. So much for dealing with the devil, eh? I watched myself bleed on my Armani jeans as I slowly slipped in and out of consciousness. Hopefully there wouldn't be any dreams. I fucking hated dreams.

What an awful spot to begin this nightmare. I practically gave it away. This begins long before. It begins with a broken man, desperate for an easy fix to his depressing life. A man who would risk anything and everything, to live a life of high regards. This is about a hate-filled being, looking for a reason to destroy what is beautiful. This is where it begins. This is the journey through the mind of a mad man.

Damn it was hot. Even for Georgia, this summer had been awful. Heatwaves and thunderstorms, it never seemed like it would end. I wasn't a huge fan of the weather, it felt like I was gonna melt. I continued to walk down the dirty streets of East Point. I was looking for a certain place. I found it on my right and walked in.

The clouds of smoke filled my lungs as I made my way to the bartender. It was a good sized place, filled with a bunch of tables, booths, and billiard tables. Just my kind of place. I walked to the bar and took a seat on one of the empty stools. The bartender was an overweight biker. A tough guy to say the least. I was growing used to the atmosphere though. These kinds of places beat a geeky coffee house any day.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked. I looked around behind him, eyeing the alcohol bottles, decided on a decent drink.

"Whiskey, straight up. Actually, bring me three of them. It was a rough day." I replied. Working my nien to five shift at the lawyers office was growing old. Sure I was making plenty of money, but it just seemed so redundant, and played out. Seemed like every case was the same. Murders, rape, arson. You know, the evil deeds of society. I had spent who knows how many hours working with scumbags. I wouldn't had been suprised if it had rubbed off on me.

The fat man returned with my request, and laid them in front of me. He then turned his back to me and finished wiping down some of the glasses. I don't think he liked my type. Probably thought I was too high class to be at a place like this; I disagreed. Screw the stereotypes. Sure I was GQ on the outside, but inside, I was just like every other guy in the bar. I then reached in to the pocket on the interior lining of my Gucci suit coat, and pulled out a Cuban cigar. My favorite. Fuck cigarettes, I still wanted to breathe right.

I lit the cigarette and began watching everyone in the bar. A couple guys were having their own conversations. I thought I heard something about the Braves. Local die-hard fans. They were probably a couple for all I knew. Hey it wasn't my life. I looked to my right to see a pair of couples playing pool against one another. They were awful. I should've probably stepped in and started hustling, but I was willing to save it for another day. Besides, my life was about to change five seconds from then.

"Hi there." The soft voice whispered in my ear. Sounded like the voice of an angel. I was hoping she had the body to match. I turned my head to face the direction the voice had come from. There in front of me stood a chocolate bombshell. Amazing face, rack, butt. I'd say she was perfect if I could. She lightly licked her full lips, as I stared in to her eyes. She had very different eyes. They almost seemed as if they had a radiant glow to them.

"Hey, first time in here?" I responded as I pulled out the seat beside me, allowing her to sit. She slowly bent over to sit, allowing me a quick glace at her tight body. She was well dressed with a tight fitting designer coat, with matching jacket.

"No, regular customer." She responded, turning to the bartender. "Rum and coke, please." She turned back to me. "How about you? Haven't seen you here before."

"A couple times here and there." I said as I finished my second glass of whiskey. I turned toward her again. "You have a name?"

"Maria." She replied. "We can discuss this over a game of billiards. You a gambling man?" She asked, staring at me with her odd eyes.

"Depends on the bet." I said, amazed by the sensation overcoming me as I continued to stare at her.

"How about a deal with the devil?" She said, as she pulled me by the hand to the closest pool table. Little did I know that this woman was going to change my life as I knew it.


I am one half of the best tag team in this business.

A two time champion in this place.

I've main evented ppv's and evolutions.

But as great as I've been in the tag game, I've been just that mediocre going solo.  

I can't think of my last big solo win....has it been that long?  

As confident as I am as an Ace...why can't I carry over that fire when I venture out alone?

Have I gotten too complacent with my singles career and focused too much on tag?

Have I forgotten myself as I've immersed myself into the high life?

Maybe I have....

....maybe I haven't?

I have to find a way to light that fire for myself....to fight by myself like I used to.

To be the wrecking ball that I know I'm capable of being. 

I should be part of the elite around here.  

My partner is.  He's been to the top of the mountain....two different mountains, along with these tag titles with me.

Me...I've seen the top of the mountain...but I can't seem to get off the ground these days on my own.

I haven't even been capable of getting a Paramount or Impact title shot, let alone be back in the World title mix.  I wasn't even thought of for this particular one off.  They'd rather bring back old horses than let me sniff a shot at the top prize.

And truth be told...they're not totally wrong in that.

I keep finding myself running my last solo match over and over again in my head, thinking of what I can do this time to make the outcome different...and there isn't much I can come up with. I will simply have to try harder; once again push myself to another level. I keep thinking of the match, over and over again, remembering the end of that match. I was beaten by a mere inch, by one damn inch.

 So many missed inches, so many lost matches.

I gotta start from somewhere...and why not here, and now?

Why not against Pandalike?

His catchphrase says, "Bring your best, it still wouldn't be good enough."

I'm not sure of what my best is right now.  In his eyes, in his mind...he probably feels like this is light work for him.  He's held solo gold too.

I haven't been even thought of for solo gold.  

With Duce, I'm a elite.

Without him, I'm just an opponent.

Do I yield to this....or do I face the challenge and light the singles fire that used to burn so brightly? 

I guess we'll find out at Evolution.

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