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Is It That Hard To Find A Little Peace And Quiet?! -=- The scene is the roof of the Sheraton hotel. It�s the night before all the EWA wrestlers and crew leave for the next Tuesday Night Heat tapings. Nomad is standing on the edge of the roof, overlooking the skyline of the city of Denver, Colorado. He�s wearing a black Sevendust shirt, black jeans, his black stomping boots, and, of course, his tattered black trenchcoat. The wind is blowing briskly, flapping Nomad�s hair and trenchcoat in the breeze. A pensive look is set on the face of Nomad, his gaze set thoughtfully on the horizon. The sun has already set several hours prior, and the nightlife of Denver is slowly winding down. In a short while, the clock will strike midnight. A hatch in the roof rattles and opens, and a security guard emerges with a flashlight -=- Guard: Hey! You�re not allowed up here!!! -=- Nomad spins around, flashing the guard a look of stern anger -=- Nomad: Are you going to escort me off this roof, sir? Guard: Nomad!!! Oh, man, I�m sorry sir!!! Look, I, uh....I really can�t let you be up here. It�s a restricted area....people could get hurt. Nomad: When I�m involved, people get hurt no matter what the circumstances. I�m simply trying to reflect, sir, and I�d rather not be disturbed. Guard: Uhhh....I, uh....Mr. Nomad, I�ll call for some backup if it becomes necessary. I�d rather not have to do that. Nomad: Are you really that much of an anal-retentive bastard that you�d make a big deal out of a man on the roof?! Guard: Yes, I would. It�s my job, sir. Nomad: That�s ludicrous. If anything happened, you could simply say that I wasn�t up here when you made your check of the roof. Guard: Sorry, but I have a very guilty conscience. I would have a hard time sleeping at night knowing that I let a man die. Nomad: You have a guilty conscience? Guard: Yes, sir, I do. Nomad: Hmmm....I DON�T. -=- Nomad knocks the flashlight from the guard�s hand with an inner crescent kick, and spins around planting his heel in the man�s gut. The man doubles over, and Nomad slaps him in a front facelock and drops him in the Wandering on the concrete roof. Nomad bends down, balancing on his toes, and speaks into the face of the unconscious man -=- Nomad: When I�m trying to think, I like to be able to THINK. I�m sorry you had to learn the price for interrupting me, sir, but hey....I don�t really give a fuck. -=- Nomad opens up the rooftop hatch, and climbs back down. He closes the hatch behind him, and locks it tightly -=- I�ll leave a note with the front desk when I check out tomorrow....he�ll be scared and hungry, but nothing severe. That should teach the intrusive little prick. -=- Nomad walks down the hallway, gets in an elevator, and goes down to the 23rd floor. He walks down the hallway to room 23-12. He slides a keycard, and steps inside. His room is orderly and clean. The curtains are drawn tight, and he has only dim lighting illuminating his suite. He walks over to the window, shutting off the few lights on the way, and pulls the curtains wide open. Now on the 23rd floor, rather than the 50-story roof, he still has a great view -=- -=- Nomad hates humanity. He thinks it�s a vile plague on the face of the earth. Murder, rape, and David Hasselhoff are only a few of the things that have caused Nomad to lose his faith in his own species. If you can�t walk down the street without fearing for you life, what kind of a world do you live in? -=- Ours, thinks Nomad in response to his own question. -=- Nomad takes a deep breath, draws the curtains closed, and walks over to the phone. He dials "0" for the front desk -=- Nomad: Yes, hello. I�d like a wake-up call, please. Yes, room 23-12. Yeah. 7:45 AM, please. Thank you. Goodnight. -=- Nomad hangs up the phone, and gets ready for bed. At 12:44, he climbs into bed and turns out the light -=- -=- The phone rings, stirring Nomad from his sleep. He answers the phone and hangs back up immediately....wake-up call received. He climbs out of bed, and heads into the bathroom. He takes a quick shower, and gets ready. Since it�s a nice, sunny Denver morning, Nomad packs his trenchcoat in his suitcase. He puts on a black Fear Factory t-shirt, grey Caffeine cargo pants, and his black stomping boots. He packs up the rest of his stuff in his large rolling suitcase, and heads out of his room. He goes down to the lobby, and walks up to the front desk -=- Receptionist: Good morning, sir. Nomad: Hey. Checking out, billed to the Extreme Wrestling Association. Receptionist: Of course, sir. May I please see your ID and room key? -=- Nomad hands the woman his driver�s license, room key, and hands her an envelope containing the letter about the poor man trapped on the roof -=- Nomad: Could you please give this letter to the management? Receptionist: Yes, sir, of course. Nomad: Thanks. -=- Nomad walks away, and goes down into the parking garage. He loads his suitcase into the trunk of his jet black BMW Z3 Roadster, then climbs inside. He starts it up, attaches his Rockford Fosgate stereo�s faceplate, and switches to disc 1, track 1. "Bored" by Deftones cranks over the system, and Nomad begins the drive to the city of next week�s Tuesday Night Heat -=- -=- Nomad pulls up to the front of a Hilton Grand hotel. A valet gingerly steps up to the car, prepared to park it as per his job description. Nomad glares at the young man, shakes his head, and pops the trunk. He goes around to the back of his car, takes out the suitcase, and places it on the sidewalk -=- Nomad: No one drives this car but me, son. Besides, I have an appearance to make. Take this suitcase inside and have it brought to my room. Valet: What is your room number, sir? Nomad: I don�t fucking know, I just got here. I�m Nomad, with the EWA. They�ll have booked a room for me already. Valet: Alright, sir. -=- The valet takes Nomad�s suitcase inside, as Nomad climbs back into his car. He presses a few buttons on his stereo, and the system suddenly blasts "Shame" by Stabbing Westward. Nomad puts his BMW Z3 Roadster in first gear, and screams away from the hotel. He drives to the arena where the next Tuesday Night Heat is going to be taped, and parks his car in one of the VIP spots. He gets out, and walks into the arena. There�s a line of fans, mostly kids, leading up to a series of tables. Serial Thrylla, Reckless, Dino Delsante, Nick Diamante, Chandler, and others are already seated and signing autographs -=- Shit, Nomad thinks. I�m fucking late. -=- Nomad walks towards his spot at the tables, but suddenly a blonde-haired woman with gigantic tits and a crotch-high miniskirt steps in front of him -=- Bimbo: Hi, I�m Ariel Childe, reporter for the local news. Could we get a quick interview with you?! Nomad: No. I have an appearance to make. Ariel Chile: Great, this won�t take long at all!!! Nomad: I said I can�t do an� Ariel Childe: What brought you back to the EWA after such a long break? Nomad: Sigh. I already said this a million times. I came back for the sole purpose of getting my International Title back and giving it credibility. Ariel Childe: Ummm....okay! Why did you target Dino Delsante, then? Nomad: Because he has the fucking International Title, you bleach-blonde slam-pig!!! Ariel Childe: Fascinating! Now....what do you think about the match you�re been scheduled in this Tuesday? Nomad: Finally, an original question!!! I think it�s great. You see, I� Ariel Childe: Thank you for your time, Nomad, I�ll� -=- Nomad snatches the microphone from Ms. Childe�s hand, and shoves her into a nearby laundry cart -=- Nomad: This interview just went solo. Now, where was I....right. Main event. First off, I think it�s great that I�m in the main event in my first match back in the EWA. It�s where I belong. Secondly, I couldn�t be happier with my opponents. First off, Dino Delsante. This douche cut an interview the other day, in which he said several asinine comments. Nomad: First....you�re not the best of the best, Dino. You�re a fucking midcarder!!! If you were the best of the best, you�d be knocking Diamante�s ass around the arena rather than hiding in his shadow for so long. Second....my past IS greater than your present. I have held the World Title, Dino....something you can only dream about. My bragging rights are a thousandfold more than yours. And they�re better, too. So shut your face. Third....I don�t have to worry about you winning MY title two, three, or fifty times. Because your title reigns are boring. They don�t attract attention. You could hold that title for the next ten years, and it wouldn�t matter. Because in the fifty-one days I had that belt, I did more than you EVER will. So don�t think I�m jealous, Delsante, because that is way off base. Fourth....my finishing move isn�t enough to take you out?! Then why the fuck were you laid out on the mat, sleeping like a brain-dead quadriplegic for 10 minutes while I cut an interview?! If my move was so unspectacular, why didn�t you get up and kick my ass?! Why, Dino?!?!?! BECAUSE YOU SUCK, YOU DICK-FACED MORON. Nomad: Fifth....you....YOU are the cornerstone of the EWA? The EWA is built on YOU?! Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. The EWA was built on the blood, sweat, and tears of the following people, and ONLY the following people: Serial Thrylla, Nomad, Chandler, The Regulators, and Nick Diamante. We worked to make this federation the best, even when it was a floundering fed just trying to get off the ground. Until you do for the EWA what we did for the EWA, never....EVER....claim to have built the EWA. Or I�ll be forced to shove a history lesson directly down your throat. And finally, sixth....you think I�m using you as a stepping stone? Don�t be so conceited. I don�t NEED a stepping stone. I�ve already been to heights in my career you can�t even imagine. Kicking YOUR sorry ass is nothing but a hobby at this point. I don�t need a stepping stone, boy. I can take whatever I want, whenever I want, with or without anyone�s permission. I don�t need to work my way up the ladder. Know why? Because I AM the measuring stick. You want to know if you�re a great wrestler? Compare your career to mine. And your career, Dino Delsante, isn�t worth festering dog vomit. So climb down off your pedestal, because the spotlight is much better suited to someone who DOESN�T suck. -=- Ariel Childe moans and attempts to get out of the laundry cart, but just falls back in -=- Nomad: Next up, the "franchise" himself, Serial Thrylla. This guy has seen it all, he�s done it all....he�s the man. But he sure as hell isn�t invincible. I�ve kicked his ass several times before, and vice versa. Sometimes in this career, your best friends are also your greatest enemies. Look at Brink and Thorn. Me and Thrylla have maintained a conditional friendship ever since we came into this company, and that means that when we step into the ring, it isn�t personal. It�s business. When we step in the ring, we give it our all. We fight with every ounce of our being, every fiber in our bodies. And when the winner�s hand is raised, it�s only because luck shined on him that night. Whether it be me or Thrylla, the winner simply got lucky. But this Tuesday, things are different. Thrylla�s going to be distracted by Reckless. And when I get into the ring, I�ll be giving it 100% while he can only give it 50%. Don�t think I�ll hesitate to break you in two, Thrylla, because I WON�T. And this Tuesday, that�s just what I�ll do. Nomad: And my third opponent....my tag-team partner, "The Hardcore Superstar"....Reckless. Yeah, I know he�s my partner. But we�re sure as fuck not friends. Back in a little federation called the BLW, me and Reckless met over the World Title. I had his ass beat, dead to rights, when his goons ran in and kicked my ass. Don�t think I�ve forgotten that, Reck. Don�t even THINK it. I haven�t forgotten what you did to me that night, and I never will. I hold a grudge like Atlas holds up the Earth....forever. And someday....maybe not Tuesday, I�m not sure, but someday....I�ll get revenge for that night in the BLW. And I�ll take you to your fucking Journey�s End. -=- A random EWA worker yells at Nomad, telling him he has to sit down and start signing autographs, and Nomad nods his head -=- Nomad: This interview is over. -=- Nomad turns away from the camera, and walks over toward the tables.... -=- 
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