In this world, there were always going to be "on" days and "off"days, so to speak. It didn't matter how you were or how much of a perfectionist or even how bad of a loser you were, the laws of life seemed to always indicate that every dog had their day and even the most mighty men in the world were capable of falling. Northern Crown was such an "off" day on Because of this, Freddie had learned not to count his chickens before they hatched. Granted, this was an elementary idea that everyone should be capable of comprehending. Despite the simplicity behind the idea of not throwing a victory bash before a victory or buying polish for a championship belt before winning it, Freddie had to admit that perhaps he had gotten caught up in the heat of the moment and had looked forward in time a little too much. Karma had made sure to come back and bite him in the ass to let him know just what he was capable of. But, Freddie Styles was most thankful for the wake up call that the events of Northern Crown had given him. Sure, he had a rematch for the Impact title coming up, but he wasn't going to think about it any more than what he needed to. First up was a 5 team scrum for the newly minted WCWA tag titles. He was positive that, like his matches for the past few weeks, his opponents at When Worlds Collide would try to give him a run for his money and prove that they were, in some form or another, capable of being mentioned as a champion, like he once was, and wants to be again.
The hollow bounce of bass can be heard over the clicking and whirring of an analogue videotape spinning to life. An image fades into existence with some protest, as if the camera was protesting its own use. The image shifted and shimmered at first, showing a dark parking lot highlighted by a single streetlight. In A small one story building was labeled with an antique wooden sign which proclaimed it a bar and grill of sorts. For anyone in the area however, it was simply just the local hangout. The camera shifted as the man behind it moved forward.
He said he was in here, what he's doing in a dump like this is questionable though.
The room was dark, which kept visual stimuli to a minimum, but the sound of a pool cue cracking off a cue ball echoed loudly though the bar. The camera rounded a corner and went to the place directly past the bar. A pool table was surrounded by seating, an arcade stand up machine and a jukebox . Off in the corner , sitting with the cue stick on his lap was a man dressed in a black vest, t-shirt, and jeans. Freddie Styles took up his cue stick as his pudgy opponent miscued on the break and sent the cue ball spinning into the far corner pocket.
Freddie leaned forward, judged his initial shot, heaved a heavy sigh, and stroked the stick in his hand, sending the cue ball, which he had replaced on dot at the back of the table, spiraling to strike the front ball, in this case the one ball, and send a couple balls into the pocket. He overshot his next attempt though, and chipped the two ball off the rail so it sat, quite plainly, near the corner pocket. While it may have been a bad omen for him, as the table was still open, he didn't seem the least bit concerned. Between sips of an anonymous clear liquid he had resting on the back booth which he sat at, he addressed the cameraman.
So good of you to join us this evening. I know you were supposed to be here earlier, but given the situation at hand, I do hope you can forgive me if I sound a little....off. I've been having a hell of a night, spending money I haven't made, and wishing on stars I never wished to float my way.
The cameraman sat himself at the back of the area, sitting on a barstool, where he nearly dropped the camera. When he steadied it again, he sat quietly, watching through that eye piece as Freddie tapped his foot to the music, watching the steady stream of balls fall into pockets. His opponent, despite his large exterior, certainly knew what he was doing. Before he knew it, the game was over, the table had betrayed Freddie, and the eight ball was sunk. He agreed to go again.
I fear I underestimated you my friend...he remarked, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. He moved to speak to the camera.
Just as I had underestimated everyone I've been up against lately. It seems that I have been doing quite a lot of that underestimating lately, and if I hadn't of taken a L last week, I would have missed an opportunity. You see, missed opportunities come about every so often and although you may not know it, often derail your destiny. They were there, promising some sort of grandeur, some sort of forward motion, but you just didn't see it, because you were too blinded with the immediate to see into to the future. So it was with the last couple of my title shots...
The man at the table shouted in anger as he scratched on his final shot at the table, he had quickly run the table and was looking at quite the sitting duck in the eight ball, but his fingers slipped, and that cue ball slid right past, and into the pocket.
As it was with this game, again then, yes?, Okay. I'll rack em, you crack em.
Freddie stood up and racked the balls, and watched as the man missed his second shot. Freddie, having drawn high balls this time around due to chance, took his shots but continued talking. His hands moved easily and his stance was proper, soon enough he was looking down the last shot, and he shrugged his shoulders.
See, the point I am hoping to make here is, that missed opportunities are those that you regret, whether it's that one chance you had with that high school crush....
Freddie took his shot, sinking the eight ball in the side pocket. A twenty dollar bill fluttered down onto the table, and a pudgy, haggard old man stormed to the front to drown his woes in some fine scotch.
...or that one chance you had to win that twenty bucks.
Freddie moved back to the table and motioned the man behind the camera to sit with him. The man sat with him and Freddie asked for a refill of what was now clearly shown to be gin with a small lime floating at the bottom of his glass. He sat back with a smile, replacing the pool cue in its case. He pushes himself back and upwards, beginning to speak again.
When Worlds Collide...will not be a missed opportunity for the Aces. I guarantee that.