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Some Post-Heat Thoughts -=- Following his shocking return on Tuesday Night Heat, Nomad exits the arena. He�s still wearing his own "NoMaD" logo shirt, his black jeans, and his black steel-toe stomping boots. His shades are stashed in the pocket of the tattered trenchcoat he�s still wearing, and his hair is now pulled back into a short ponytail. He has a black duffel bag slung low over his right shoulder, full of his wrestling gear....just in case. He walks across the lower level of the parking garage, and comes to his car. His jet black BMW Z3 Roadster with a stylized "N" custom-painted on both the driver�s and passenger�s side doors. It�s tucked away in the corner behind a concrete pillar, hidden so as to not attract any attention. After all, Nomad wouldn�t have wanted his surprise for Dino Delsante and the rest of the world spoiled -=- -=- He produces a bundle of keys attached to a black carabiner. Dangling from the keyring is a Slipknot keychain. Nomad slips the key into the lock, turns it, and pulls open the door. He reaches down and pulls the trunk release, tosses his duffel bag in the trunk, and climbs into his car. He closes the door, and breathes deeply for a moment -=- I have to say, it felt good in there tonight, Nomad thinks to himself. I�ve still got it. I wasn�t sure if I�d find that old EWA spark again, but it was there alright. Man, did I miss this place. I missed home. -=- Nomad pulls a Rockford Fosgate case out of his coat pocket, takes his car stereo faceplate out of it, and attaches it to the deck in the dashboard of his car. He flips through the options contained within the 12-disc CD changer mounted in his trunk, and stops upon disc 5, track 3. He hits play, and his Phoenix Gold car audio system comes to life with "Everything Sucks" by Dope. He turns it down so he can hear himself think, and drives out of the parking garage. The second he hits the street, he drops the car into third gear and peels out. He�s soon rocketing down the street at 85 miles per hour, on his way to the Sheraton hotel where all the EWA superstars are staying -=- Well, I�ve pretty much got my game plan laid out for the moment. With the beatings I�m going to give Delsante, it won�t be long before I get a shot at my EWA International Title. And once I get the match, I�ve got it in the bag. I suppose once I give the belt prestige again, I can just drop it to my hand-picked champion and leave quietly. Then again, almost nothing goes according to plan in the EWA. I guess I�ll just have to play it by ear. That�s never been a problem before. Hell, I�ve already got a roadblock popping up. That little bitch Brink is back in the picture. I thought our conflict died when I dropped him head-first through a fucking skylight. I guess the pussy wants to get his ass kicked even more. Too bad we�ve both got our hands full right now. Maybe once I take the title from Delsante, me and Brink can tangle to finally settle who was the better International Champion. He�s the only one other than myself to give that strap credibility, I�ve always given him credit for that. But when you stack it up, when you measure the tape....I�ve always come out on top. He says he�s gone farther than me?! Hardly. He�s always followed in others� shadows. When he first came on the scene, he was pathetic. He could barely hold his own in a jobber match, any title gold was out of the question. Then Thrylla took it upon himself to train the little tyke. His own little proteg�. After months of playing the role of "Little Thrylla," Brink finally struck out on his own. Then he tried to follow the path I had already blazed, the road I paved long before. I know that whole situation ended pretty indecisively, but he still can�t hold a candle to me. He had the EWA World Title, sure. But like I said earlier tonight....it didn�t mean jack shit. The pool of talent in the EWA is more watered-down than a Denny�s fountain drink these days. He was just the best of a bad batch. If he went toe-to-toe with some of the old EWA greats, he�d shit his pants just in time to get pinned, 1-2-3. Hell, I fought him and Thorn, and kicked both their asses. Hell, I nearly killed �em. I tossed Thorn off a roof twelve stories up, and gave Brink the Journey�s End through a skylight. And yet still, he claims superiority over me. -=- Nomad reaches down to his Rockford Fosgate stereo and pushes a few buttons, and Dope shuts off. The CD changer switches to disc 12, track 13, and a live version of "Cemetary Gates" by Pantera cranks over the car�s system. The red light Nomad is waiting at turns green, and the BMW speeds up like a rocket on wheels. Screaming along at speeds well over the legal limit, Nomad continues on his train of thought -=- I guess I really can�t concern myself with Brink right now, though. His time will come soon enough, but I can�t let that get in the way of the goals I have now. First and foremost on my agenda is Dino Delsante. I�m hoping he�ll be pretty pissed off after what I did to him tonight. The idea wasn�t just to hurt, but also to humiliate. If I injure his pride, I�m likely to get under his skin faster. And the more damage I do, the sooner I get my title shot. And once I get the EWA International Title back around my waist, I can get to work on the rest of my plan. If I ever leave a true mark on the EWA, this is going to be it. I just hope it goes off without a hitch. With all the trouble Chandler and Diamante are stirring up, I should be left relatively alone to take care of business. Then again, Thrylla�s in the picture now, too. Even though he�s been one of my best friends in the business, he�s also been the most unpredictable son-of-a-bitch I�ve ever met. For all I know, he might still hold a grudge from the Hell On Earth match. God knows that put him on the shelf for months. And quite frankly, his knee will never be 100% again. I guess if he does come knocking on my door, I�m just going to have to deal with him like I will everyone else who gets in my way: Go through them. -=- Nomad slows the car down, slipping it into third gear as he pulls into the parking garage of the Sheraton hotel. He goes down a ramp, around a corner, and into the farthest depths of the concrete structure. He pulls into a shadow-eclipsed parking spot, much like the one he was in at the arena. He pushes a button on the stereo, and the music shuts off. He flips a switch, and the faceplate pops off into his hand. He places the faceplate in its case, and slips it in his pocket. He pops the trunk, and gets out of his car. After retrieving his black duffel bag and locking the vehicle securely, Nomad slings the bag over his shoulder and begins walking up to the elevators -=- I guess in the end, it�s just me trying to come full circle. I came into the EWA as a nobody, I didn�t even fight on the independent circuits. The EWA, hell, Tom Stone made my career. Sure, I went on to other things after I left the Extreme Wrestling Association, but nothing was like the EWA. I had decent success in the FWF, the BLW....but nothing could match the rush I felt stepping into an EWA ring. Am I really back to restore the International Title to its former glory? I�m not sure. Maybe I�m back to restore myself to my former glory. My career has been lackluster lately, at best. Ad campaigns for Hot Topic and London Fog, a movie under my belt that barely broke even. Maybe I came back to erase the doubt I had in myself. Sure, the Dino Delsante situation makes for a good excuse, but maybe that�s all it is. Maybe I�m lying to myself. One way or another, though, I�m back. And I�m sure as hell going to make this run count. I may be starting off with Dino Delsante, but my plans extend far beyond this expendable "superstar." Only time will tell how my plans actually pan out. For now, though, I might as well make the best of it. If I want to be remember for one thing, I want it to be for being the angriest, the most intense....the best wrestler the EWA has ever seen. And for now, that�s all that matters. Too bad poor Dino has to be the first one to learn that when you cross Nomad, you�d better be prepared to take a trip. A trip that leads to your Journey�s End. -=- Nomad steps into the elevator in the parking garage, and pushes the button for the 23rd floor. His eyes fix straight forward as the polished steel doors of the elevator slide silently shut -=- 
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