Aftermath
May 19, 2017 13:40:57 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Rage (aka NoMercyMaster2001), and 1 more like this
Post by Robbie A on May 19, 2017 13:40:57 GMT -5
ooc: Since I signed up the other day I've been thinking more about writing this, I've been thinking about writing this for years. Today I have.
April, 2011, the CXA Reunion Show – The moments after My-Ron Novaar (Myron Fox to some) inexplicably put himself onto the cross in the final moments of a crucifixion match. Neither man was in control, but both were battle worn when Novaar chose to lose the match, to everybody’s shock...
“Arnold. Arnold…”
Rob turns around.
“I told you, Arnold. I told you that I had it covered. That I had plans. You thought they were for my victory. You were wrong. They were for my defeat.”
Arnold waves Novaar away, clearing thinking The Prince is full of it.
“Oh, you think you could still have beaten me? Maybe, Rob, maybe. You managed to get to your feet. You surprised even me with that! Maybe you could have beaten me…but you’ll never know! You’ll never know how this match would have ended and that’s going to burn you inside!”
Arnold has clearly heard enough and heads towards the back.
“Don’t you want to hear why I did it?”
Arnold stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Remember the ritual, Rob? Remember when I spoke to the spirits? The dark forces? I never said what they had told me. Not in total. I hinted that they needed a sacrifice and you bought that as being you. Everybody did. But the sacrifice was never you…it was ME! That’s right. They asked me to lose. To commit myself to the flames of defeat so that I may rise again. This is the final part of my plan…of my resurrection! Tonight, I am truly REBORN as The Prince!”
The Cyberstar starts to laugh, as Arnold shakes his head and wanders into the back.
…
“No” That’s all he could think. No other word even came into his brain, just “no”. Just minutes ago, Rob Arnold was in a match with Myron Fox, and by his own admission it was a battle. Had he underestimated Fox? Perhaps, but actually it didn’t matter at this point. Just minutes ago both men stood across from each other and stared into their opponents eyes, and from Rob’s point of view he was ready to throw any fist, push any kick and lift any weight to achieve a win. Second, third, fourth and fifth wind had already been used and he was approaching the half dozen. What did Fox do? He turned around, willingly and lost the match, attaching himself to the cross, and giving Rob the win.
Rob guaranteed the win leading up to the match, promising that he would show Fox out to be a fraud, that behind all the gimmicks there was not much of a wrestler. What just happened though, proved that Rob was wrong, simply because he wasn’t proved right. Yes, he won the match, but nobody will ever know if Rob was better, nobody will even know if Fox is indeed a fraud. Fox had single-handedly taken this away from him in what can only be described as a premeditated act.
Everything that Arnold had worked towards in the previous months, getting back into the business, rekindling his old mentality, training harder than he perhaps ever had, it became worthless. He sat there, in front of cameras, behind radio microphones, and he told everybody what he would do and how he would do it. He had the prestige of going to America and becoming XHF Champion, he had all the achievements to back up the talk. Yet in his actions, Myron Fox completely undone everything he talked about, every ounce of credibility just faded. In seconds, Rob Arnold won a wrestling match, but lost everything.
He kept shaking his head as he walked though the back, his eyes wide, his face withdrawn. As he approached the locker room, an old friend, Joxide approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and stopping him ahead of the entrance. “Rob, buddy are you okay? That was a pretty brutal match.”
“I’m fine, no real war wounds.” Was the response, but it was empty, no smirk, no joke, no arrogance, no emotion whatsoever. Joxide picked up on this as well, and took a step back.
“Are you okay mate?”
There was no response. Rob just looked him dead in the eye for half a second, before walking into the locker room. Joxide chose not to follow him in, though clearly had a look of concern across his face. In the locker room however, were two wrestlers, one in particular looking to have a joke at Rob’s expense.
“Big D thinks that you’re looking pretty stupid right now!” Exclaimed the third-personing Big D, not one known for much intelligence. Rob however ghosted past him, heading to his changing area. Not to be ignored however, the Deester decided to follow Rob, either to make his point known, or because he may not have been aware that Rob was ignoring him.
“You deaf Arnold? The Big D said you’re looking stupid!” He begins to laugh rather obnoxiously, and this causes Rob to stop in his tracks. He turns slowly and faces D, tilting his head to the right, and slowly, he produces that characteristic smirk that one associates with The True Innovator.
“You know what D? You’re right, I do,” he pauses “I really do.”
The Deester, not really knowing how to respond, stops laughing, and begins to grow confusion across his brow. This doesn’t last however, as Rob’s face again drops, not to a blank look, but one of pure rage. He kicks Big D in the gut, hard enough for him to drop to one knee. Not content, Rob grabs him behind the head and throws him head first into the nearby wall. D stumbles back, so Rob firmly grabs him, and pushes his head into the wall again, over, and over, and over. D’s legs give out, and he slumps to the floor. Rob isn’t done though, he stalks around D’s body, before firmly punting the side of his head for good measure. Scarily, whilst the rage is on his face, there is barely any other sign of emotion or noise from him. He steps back, and looks at the other wrestler left in the room, which is Reggie Cyde. Cyde rather diplomatically holds his hands up, and walks straight of the room.
Rob, destruction completed, then continues his walk to his locker. He approaches the bench and sits down, head in his hands. To ask the question “what just happened?” wouldn’t even cover it right now. This feeling, it wasn’t embarrassment, it was more than that, this was a feeling of everything coming to an end, an end out of your own control, and it was almost crippling.
A deep breath, and then, vibration, his phone began to ring. Instinctively he grabbed the phone and looked at the caller, his wife, Sharon. He knew she was watching at home, caring for their child, he knew that she would be worried, however if she knew what just happened, she would be even more worried.
Another deep breath, then he answers.
“Hey Shar.” He can’t even begin to try and smile.
“Rob...”
“I’ll be home in a few hours, I’ve decided against the hotel.” He interrupts.
“Oh, okay...well...”
“Just a few flesh-wounds, nothing that hasn’t been stitched up before.” Again, he cuts her off, but its so factually sounding its not as offensive as it could be.
“Oh...right.” There’s a small pause, neither say anything until Sharon breaks it, “just… remember we love you, and we’re both here when you come home.” Both, referring to their ten month old son as well as herself.
“I know, I’ll see you shortly. Love you” Rob says the words, but there’s almost no emotion, the blank look slowly returning as he hangs up. He pauses for a moment, before looking back at his phone, and begins to call another number.
“Hey, it’s Rob...listen, first thing Monday morning I want to to put my house on the market. I know, I know its the family home...no I haven’t spoken to her about it, but it’s not her decision, it’s mine….Where are we going? I can’t speak for the both of us, but I’m going away for a while, I think that’s for the best.”
April, 2011, the CXA Reunion Show – The moments after My-Ron Novaar (Myron Fox to some) inexplicably put himself onto the cross in the final moments of a crucifixion match. Neither man was in control, but both were battle worn when Novaar chose to lose the match, to everybody’s shock...
“Arnold. Arnold…”
Rob turns around.
“I told you, Arnold. I told you that I had it covered. That I had plans. You thought they were for my victory. You were wrong. They were for my defeat.”
Arnold waves Novaar away, clearing thinking The Prince is full of it.
“Oh, you think you could still have beaten me? Maybe, Rob, maybe. You managed to get to your feet. You surprised even me with that! Maybe you could have beaten me…but you’ll never know! You’ll never know how this match would have ended and that’s going to burn you inside!”
Arnold has clearly heard enough and heads towards the back.
“Don’t you want to hear why I did it?”
Arnold stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Remember the ritual, Rob? Remember when I spoke to the spirits? The dark forces? I never said what they had told me. Not in total. I hinted that they needed a sacrifice and you bought that as being you. Everybody did. But the sacrifice was never you…it was ME! That’s right. They asked me to lose. To commit myself to the flames of defeat so that I may rise again. This is the final part of my plan…of my resurrection! Tonight, I am truly REBORN as The Prince!”
The Cyberstar starts to laugh, as Arnold shakes his head and wanders into the back.
…
“No” That’s all he could think. No other word even came into his brain, just “no”. Just minutes ago, Rob Arnold was in a match with Myron Fox, and by his own admission it was a battle. Had he underestimated Fox? Perhaps, but actually it didn’t matter at this point. Just minutes ago both men stood across from each other and stared into their opponents eyes, and from Rob’s point of view he was ready to throw any fist, push any kick and lift any weight to achieve a win. Second, third, fourth and fifth wind had already been used and he was approaching the half dozen. What did Fox do? He turned around, willingly and lost the match, attaching himself to the cross, and giving Rob the win.
Rob guaranteed the win leading up to the match, promising that he would show Fox out to be a fraud, that behind all the gimmicks there was not much of a wrestler. What just happened though, proved that Rob was wrong, simply because he wasn’t proved right. Yes, he won the match, but nobody will ever know if Rob was better, nobody will even know if Fox is indeed a fraud. Fox had single-handedly taken this away from him in what can only be described as a premeditated act.
Everything that Arnold had worked towards in the previous months, getting back into the business, rekindling his old mentality, training harder than he perhaps ever had, it became worthless. He sat there, in front of cameras, behind radio microphones, and he told everybody what he would do and how he would do it. He had the prestige of going to America and becoming XHF Champion, he had all the achievements to back up the talk. Yet in his actions, Myron Fox completely undone everything he talked about, every ounce of credibility just faded. In seconds, Rob Arnold won a wrestling match, but lost everything.
He kept shaking his head as he walked though the back, his eyes wide, his face withdrawn. As he approached the locker room, an old friend, Joxide approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and stopping him ahead of the entrance. “Rob, buddy are you okay? That was a pretty brutal match.”
“I’m fine, no real war wounds.” Was the response, but it was empty, no smirk, no joke, no arrogance, no emotion whatsoever. Joxide picked up on this as well, and took a step back.
“Are you okay mate?”
There was no response. Rob just looked him dead in the eye for half a second, before walking into the locker room. Joxide chose not to follow him in, though clearly had a look of concern across his face. In the locker room however, were two wrestlers, one in particular looking to have a joke at Rob’s expense.
“Big D thinks that you’re looking pretty stupid right now!” Exclaimed the third-personing Big D, not one known for much intelligence. Rob however ghosted past him, heading to his changing area. Not to be ignored however, the Deester decided to follow Rob, either to make his point known, or because he may not have been aware that Rob was ignoring him.
“You deaf Arnold? The Big D said you’re looking stupid!” He begins to laugh rather obnoxiously, and this causes Rob to stop in his tracks. He turns slowly and faces D, tilting his head to the right, and slowly, he produces that characteristic smirk that one associates with The True Innovator.
“You know what D? You’re right, I do,” he pauses “I really do.”
The Deester, not really knowing how to respond, stops laughing, and begins to grow confusion across his brow. This doesn’t last however, as Rob’s face again drops, not to a blank look, but one of pure rage. He kicks Big D in the gut, hard enough for him to drop to one knee. Not content, Rob grabs him behind the head and throws him head first into the nearby wall. D stumbles back, so Rob firmly grabs him, and pushes his head into the wall again, over, and over, and over. D’s legs give out, and he slumps to the floor. Rob isn’t done though, he stalks around D’s body, before firmly punting the side of his head for good measure. Scarily, whilst the rage is on his face, there is barely any other sign of emotion or noise from him. He steps back, and looks at the other wrestler left in the room, which is Reggie Cyde. Cyde rather diplomatically holds his hands up, and walks straight of the room.
Rob, destruction completed, then continues his walk to his locker. He approaches the bench and sits down, head in his hands. To ask the question “what just happened?” wouldn’t even cover it right now. This feeling, it wasn’t embarrassment, it was more than that, this was a feeling of everything coming to an end, an end out of your own control, and it was almost crippling.
A deep breath, and then, vibration, his phone began to ring. Instinctively he grabbed the phone and looked at the caller, his wife, Sharon. He knew she was watching at home, caring for their child, he knew that she would be worried, however if she knew what just happened, she would be even more worried.
Another deep breath, then he answers.
“Hey Shar.” He can’t even begin to try and smile.
“Rob...”
“I’ll be home in a few hours, I’ve decided against the hotel.” He interrupts.
“Oh, okay...well...”
“Just a few flesh-wounds, nothing that hasn’t been stitched up before.” Again, he cuts her off, but its so factually sounding its not as offensive as it could be.
“Oh...right.” There’s a small pause, neither say anything until Sharon breaks it, “just… remember we love you, and we’re both here when you come home.” Both, referring to their ten month old son as well as herself.
“I know, I’ll see you shortly. Love you” Rob says the words, but there’s almost no emotion, the blank look slowly returning as he hangs up. He pauses for a moment, before looking back at his phone, and begins to call another number.
“Hey, it’s Rob...listen, first thing Monday morning I want to to put my house on the market. I know, I know its the family home...no I haven’t spoken to her about it, but it’s not her decision, it’s mine….Where are we going? I can’t speak for the both of us, but I’m going away for a while, I think that’s for the best.”
