Post by Eron Hunter on May 17, 2021 14:34:06 GMT -5
He caught himself snoring, on the sofa, near the fireplace
The calm, relaxing, piano sounds coming from the pc, and the painkillers had had their effect. He found himself doing use of the painkillers, more often than not, lately. Not that he was dependent on them, far away from it, but his knee and his fighting style had their effect on his body, too.
Eron Hunter was twenty-six years old. In the fighting arenas of this world, that was quite something, to be honest. Most of the wrestlers started fighting their way in the grand stage of things since they were whippersnappers. Twenty-six, as a wrestler, that meant you were not the youngest anymore.
And he had yet to be considered the alpha and the omega of all things wrestling. Eron Hunter was a good fighter, a grand fighter, more often than not, he delivered great fights in that squared circle, which was the measure of all things wrestling.
But he had yet to be called a world champion!
And the years passed by, one by one.
Not everyone could be an Eric Dane, or Steve Awesome, for that matter. The people, who fought in the arenas of this world, quit fighting in their mid-thirties. The body just can´t handle more of the same punishment anymore, the joints hurt, the backaches, the spine cracks.
At mid-thirties you are old, in this business. Eron Hunter was Twenty-Six years old, which meant he had something like nine or ten good years left before he would have to call it quits and hang the boots on the wall. That or he would have to reinvent himself anew, to be able to still measure up with the youngsters of this business.
High flying and Dare-devilish maneuvers at thirty-six, that´s a no-go for most of the fighters. Would he be able to reinvent himself anew? Would he be able to call himself a World Champion, before the time passed by?
He didn´t know!
All he knew was that he had to walk step by step in the right direction, until there was no more time to walk and talk, until age caught up with him, making it impossible for him to measure up to the young and upcoming wrestlers of this world. Until then, all he had to do was walk in baby steps towards his goals.
Time, surely flies away, not caring about anything in the world. It doesn´t matter if you smile or cry, if you´re happy or sad, if you want to end your life or love it the most, time flies away and all you can do is wonder why the sky is always so blue.
He remembers leaving Sicily, to travel the world and become a great fighter. He knows how it felt to face the world on your own and not be scared a bit from it. He had always been the dreamer type and had always had the will to fight his battles on his own, without relying on anyone´s help.
Eron Hunter was a self-made man.
And a loner, to boot.
Nothing like Keith Williams, who was supported by other two or three allies, who had his back all the time. At least until their interest told them to do so. Eron Hunter didn´t know much about the Revenants, but if they were something like the Syndicate was, they would have to fight battles with their egos, before they could win battles on the squared circle.
Guess their days are numbered, then?
Only God knows, and God doesn´t exist. All Eron Hunter knew, was that he would have to face Steve Awesome, Keith Williams, and Joe Ghaven, in an upcoming match, for a championship belt shot, at a later date.
Four fighters, four egos, and four futures on the line.
One does it because he thinks he is grand.
One does it because he wants to spread terror.
One does it because his manager told him it´s better than being a bum.
Eron Hunter does it for the magic and the adrenaline shot, which rushes in his blood, each time the fans call his name. And more than that, he does it because he wants to be the best at what he does. He wants that title shot because he is a wrestler and a fighter ad being a champion is the final destination for every wrestler.
Eron took a deep breath. He felt sleepy. He stretched his arms and leaned back on the sofa. Some night bird was chirping near the window. Eron Smiled. It had been a calm day, it passed by without much fanfare, just like many other days do.
But Eron Hunter was not afraid of the time passing by. All he was afraid of was not giving one hundred and ten percent each time the situation required it. If he did give a hundred percent, time could pass by, no worries about that.
The sole important thing was doing his best and enjoying the moment. Life is fiercely wonderful, for the unprepared. He, Eron Hunter, was prepared and thus, saw life like it was meant to be seen, a wonderful lover, which should intensely be loved merely because it is there.
The time was right...
..to become a champion!
And even if he would never be able to be a world champion, it didn´t matter; He had made a lot of sacrifices to be where he was now, and he would not give this achievement away for all the gold in the world.
Eron Hunter was already a champion.
A world champion!
The calm, relaxing, piano sounds coming from the pc, and the painkillers had had their effect. He found himself doing use of the painkillers, more often than not, lately. Not that he was dependent on them, far away from it, but his knee and his fighting style had their effect on his body, too.
Eron Hunter was twenty-six years old. In the fighting arenas of this world, that was quite something, to be honest. Most of the wrestlers started fighting their way in the grand stage of things since they were whippersnappers. Twenty-six, as a wrestler, that meant you were not the youngest anymore.
And he had yet to be considered the alpha and the omega of all things wrestling. Eron Hunter was a good fighter, a grand fighter, more often than not, he delivered great fights in that squared circle, which was the measure of all things wrestling.
But he had yet to be called a world champion!
And the years passed by, one by one.
Not everyone could be an Eric Dane, or Steve Awesome, for that matter. The people, who fought in the arenas of this world, quit fighting in their mid-thirties. The body just can´t handle more of the same punishment anymore, the joints hurt, the backaches, the spine cracks.
At mid-thirties you are old, in this business. Eron Hunter was Twenty-Six years old, which meant he had something like nine or ten good years left before he would have to call it quits and hang the boots on the wall. That or he would have to reinvent himself anew, to be able to still measure up with the youngsters of this business.
High flying and Dare-devilish maneuvers at thirty-six, that´s a no-go for most of the fighters. Would he be able to reinvent himself anew? Would he be able to call himself a World Champion, before the time passed by?
He didn´t know!
All he knew was that he had to walk step by step in the right direction, until there was no more time to walk and talk, until age caught up with him, making it impossible for him to measure up to the young and upcoming wrestlers of this world. Until then, all he had to do was walk in baby steps towards his goals.
Time, surely flies away, not caring about anything in the world. It doesn´t matter if you smile or cry, if you´re happy or sad, if you want to end your life or love it the most, time flies away and all you can do is wonder why the sky is always so blue.
He remembers leaving Sicily, to travel the world and become a great fighter. He knows how it felt to face the world on your own and not be scared a bit from it. He had always been the dreamer type and had always had the will to fight his battles on his own, without relying on anyone´s help.
Eron Hunter was a self-made man.
And a loner, to boot.
Nothing like Keith Williams, who was supported by other two or three allies, who had his back all the time. At least until their interest told them to do so. Eron Hunter didn´t know much about the Revenants, but if they were something like the Syndicate was, they would have to fight battles with their egos, before they could win battles on the squared circle.
Guess their days are numbered, then?
Only God knows, and God doesn´t exist. All Eron Hunter knew, was that he would have to face Steve Awesome, Keith Williams, and Joe Ghaven, in an upcoming match, for a championship belt shot, at a later date.
Four fighters, four egos, and four futures on the line.
One does it because he thinks he is grand.
One does it because he wants to spread terror.
One does it because his manager told him it´s better than being a bum.
Eron Hunter does it for the magic and the adrenaline shot, which rushes in his blood, each time the fans call his name. And more than that, he does it because he wants to be the best at what he does. He wants that title shot because he is a wrestler and a fighter ad being a champion is the final destination for every wrestler.
Eron took a deep breath. He felt sleepy. He stretched his arms and leaned back on the sofa. Some night bird was chirping near the window. Eron Smiled. It had been a calm day, it passed by without much fanfare, just like many other days do.
But Eron Hunter was not afraid of the time passing by. All he was afraid of was not giving one hundred and ten percent each time the situation required it. If he did give a hundred percent, time could pass by, no worries about that.
The sole important thing was doing his best and enjoying the moment. Life is fiercely wonderful, for the unprepared. He, Eron Hunter, was prepared and thus, saw life like it was meant to be seen, a wonderful lover, which should intensely be loved merely because it is there.
The time was right...
..to become a champion!
And even if he would never be able to be a world champion, it didn´t matter; He had made a lot of sacrifices to be where he was now, and he would not give this achievement away for all the gold in the world.
Eron Hunter was already a champion.
A world champion!
