Title: [CD] [WCWA] Permission Not Needed
Featuring: Silas Artoria
Date: 20/11/2018
Location: Vancouver, Canada



The bright light shines through the crack of his eyes and a high pitched tone pushed into his ears, blinding and deafening him as Silas is carted towards a side room reserved for medical examinations. His memory failed to trigger a definitive point as to what happened, but the sheer pain he was experiencing on his head and neck gave him a good idea. He remembered that he lost the tag match he was in, but nothing else.

The gurney stops, and the good doctor immediately got to work. He immediately notices Silas’ eyes opening, and glances down closely. He smiles in relief.

LEGGETT: Stubborn one aren’t you?

Silas lightly shakes his head, as Dr Leggett finally sees to the wound on his forehead. Groans from Silas echo in the room, as Leggett pushes one end of his cut skin to the other; firmly pressing the tape on his head.

LEGGETT: Christ, you recover quickly don’t you?

Silas chuckles, but immediately stops when the shooting pain rattles his head; clenching his teeth almost in reflex. Leggett rests his hand on Silas’ chest, keeping him down.

SILAS: I love you doc, but you and I know I can handle a little strain.

Leggett gently releases his hand as Silas struggles to sit up. There was no backrest, making his effort all the more taxing, but he succeeds eventually. His visual focus sharpens, and the ringing in his ears finally subsides to make way for generic ambience as the vibrations of athletes entrances hum throughout the arena. His memory is still uncooperative,but there were some pieces there. He quickly connected the dots.

SILAS: Autumn did this.

LEGGETT: Let’s just say that she disagreed with something you did, not tonight, but before. Past year. She split your skull open.

Silas sighs heavily, in both frustration and sadness, and rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

SILAS: So I’m going to be out of action, again!? After again building myself up? I’ve got another PPV coming up, cross brand mind you, and she proceeds to sabotage me!?

LEGGETT: Part right. You’re off Evolution. And please don’t try anything stupid, Silas? I don’t want my authority overridden.

Silas lays back down, grunting in sheer frustration as the prospect of another championship escapes from his fingertips. How many times has this happened now? Six? It felt like a curse, one that was once again preventing him from gaining some form of gold. Worse was what that belt would represent, but his year long mistake has robbed him.

SILAS: Oh, great, just what I needed. More time on the goddamn shelf!

LEGGETT: You got the When Worlds Collide PPV.

SILAS: With an injury like this!? It won’t heal by magic in two weeks! You won’t let me in the ring until Christmas Day unless a miracle happens! I’ve gone through the rigamarole of researching my opponents and training for my match. Elimination matches I can do, I’ve been in a fair few myself, but there’s a difference between taking on someone within your own roster, and stepping into the ring with someone you have never seen and heard of. Do you know how difficult it was to look up guys like Necra Octavien Kane and Sam Joseph? They’re good, impressive by my standards and they’re going to be a real handful come the event, but their site reminds me of a grand mal seizure. I didn’t want to let us down...I really didn’t….

A prolonged sigh escapes from Silas, as personal doubt washes over him.

SILAS: ...but I can’t make it into the ring. That hurts, more than anything doc. It’s not your fault, it’s just I didn’t want to let anyone down with this match.

Leggett simply stands there, eyes on Silas before a small, slightly suggestive smile creeps across his face. Silas sees it, and leans up, confused.

SILAS: What’s that smile for?

Leggett doesn’t say anything, before he puts down his clipboard and crosses his arms. The silence is deafening, as Silas tries to find an explanation.

SILAS: Experimental healing?

LEGGETT: Your imagination runs wild. You won’t be cleared for competition until the start of the New Year.

Silas groans in frustration. If only. Leggett swallows some of his saliva, and takes a deep breath.

LEGGETT: But...the WCWA isn’t the CWF. It’s outside my jurisdiction.

SILAS: And?

LEGGETT: Well, their medical practices are very different kettle of fish, containing constant amendments to standard procedures. I wanted final say over our talent, but they wouldn’t have it. They want to see wars between each promotion. Blood, guts, chair shots, you name it, they want it. They want to see you fight to the death to grab the US Championship, no matter the costs. And personally, so would I.

Silas’ face scrunches up, as thousands of different scenarios passed through his mind. Some were wild and unrealistic, but eventually the obvious crossed his head. He looks back at Leggett.

SILAS: You mean--

LEGGETT: I wouldn’t recommend it, but you like ignoring my advice.

Leggett chuckles. Oh the memories.

LEGGETT: Management really wants you to take that United States championship. The roster wants you to bring it home, and what’s stopping you?

Silas just stares at the doctor for what seems like an eternity, and a smile emerges from the bloodstained skin on his face.

SILAS: I tell you. I’ve got the headache of the goddamn century, with crimson waterfalls being the cause and the defining feature. I would love to heal up, but there are too many people in the company relying on me and the others to hopefully deliver a clean sweep. The chances? Well, my faith in Shadow is set in stone. Smokin’ Aces?

He scrunches his face in thought.

SILAS: Eh, could pull it off. Same with KC3, but I don’t want to the the one that fails at the final hurdle, as it has been the case time and time again. I’ve seen who I am up against, and  I do not desire to be the first, second, third, and last one eliminated.

He dangles his feet above the ground, slowly rising from his gurney.

SILAS: I intend to see ascent to the end, and at the peak stands a symbol that represents the best across promotions and nations.

He looks at the doctor in the eye.

SILAS: I am the king, and the CWF is the kingdom of which clouds over the others.

He closes his eyes, deep breath, a smile, and returns to looking at the man whom has tolerated his eccentricities.

SILAS: Doc, can you forgive me for ignoring your medical advice?

Leggett chuckles deeply.

LEGGETT: Bring back the US Championship, then I’ll think about it.
 



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